e beach and partly shaded it from the rays of the sun, which
shone hot above, while blue waves slightly crested with foam were gently
curling against it; there was a human figure upon the beach, wild and
uncouth, clad in the skins of animals, with a huge cap on his head, a
hatchet at his girdle, and in his hand a gun; his feet and legs were
bare; he stood in an attitude of horror and surprise; his body was bent
far back, and his eyes, which seemed starting out of his head, were fixed
upon a mark on the sand--a large distinct mark--a human footprint!
Reader, is it necessary to name the book which now stood open in my hand,
and whose very prints, feeble expounders of its wondrous lines, had
produced within me emotions strange and novel? Scarcely, for it was a
book which has exerted over the minds of Englishmen an influence
certainly greater than any other of modern times, which has been in most
people's hands, and with the contents of which even those who cannot read
are to a certain extent acquainted; a book from which the most luxuriant
and fertile of our modern prose writers have drunk inspiration; a book,
moreover, to which, from the hardy deeds which it narrates, and the
spirit of strange and romantic enterprise which it tends to awaken,
England owes many of her astonishing discoveries both by sea and land,
and no inconsiderable part of her naval glory.

Hail to thee, spirit of De Foe! What does not my own poor self owe to
thee? England has better bards than either Greece or Rome, yet I could
spare them easier far than De Foe, 'unabashed De Foe,' as the hunchbacked
rhymer styled him.

* * * * *

I commenced the Bible in Spain. At first I proceeded slowly--sickness
was in the land, and the face of nature was overcast--heavy rainclouds
swam in the heavens,--the blast howled amid the pines which nearly
surround my lonely dwelling, and the waters of the lake which lies before
it, so quiet in general and tranquil, were fearfully agitated. 'Bring
lights hither, O Hayim Ben Attar, son of the miracle!' And the Jew of
Fez brought in the lights, for though it was midday I could scarcely see
in the little room where I was writing. . . .

A dreary summer and autumn passed by, and were succeeded by as gloomy a
winter. I still proceeded with the Bible in Spain. The winter passed,
and spring came with cold dry winds and occasional sunshine, whereupon I
arose, shouted, and mounting my horse, even Sidi Habismilk, I scoured