ing to rot on the ground; I could make no more use of them but for
fuel, and that I had no occasion for but to dress my food.

In a word, the nature and experience of things dictated to me, upon just
reflection, that all the good things of this world are no farther good to
us than they are for our use; and that, whatever we may heap up to give
others, we enjoy just as much as we can use, and no more. The most
covetous, griping miser in the world would have been cured of the vice of
covetousness if he had been in my case; for I possessed infinitely more
than I knew what to do with. I had no room for desire, except it was of
things which I had not, and they were but trifles, though, indeed, of
great use to me. I had, as I hinted before, a parcel of money, as well
gold as silver, about thirty-six pounds sterling. Alas! there the sorry,
useless stuff lay; I had no more manner of business for it; and often
thought with myself that I would have given a handful of it for a gross
of tobacco-pipes; or for a hand-mill to grind my corn; nay, I would have
given it all for a sixpenny-worth of turnip and carrot seed out of
England, or for a handful of peas and beans, and a bottle of ink. As it
was, I had not the least advantage by it or benefit from it; but there it
lay in a drawer, and grew mouldy with the damp of the cave in the wet
seasons; and if I had had the drawer full of diamonds, it had been the
same case--they had been of no manner of value to me, because of no use.

I had now brought my state of life to be much easier in itself than it
was at first, and much easier to my mind, as well as to my body. I
frequently sat down to meat with thankfulness, and admired the hand of
God's providence, which had thus spread my table in the wilderness. I
learned to look more upon the bright side of my condition, and less upon
the dark side, and to consider what I enjoyed rather than what I wanted;
and this gave me sometimes such secret comforts, that I cannot express
them; and which I take notice of here, to put those discontented people
in mind of it, who cannot enjoy comfortably what God has given them,
because they see and covet something that He has not given them. All our
discontents about what we want appeared to me to spring from the want of
thankfulness for what we have.

Another reflection was of great use to me, and doubtless would be so to
any one that should fall into such distress as mine was; and this was, to
compa