shore, but oh! it was a
long, weary pull, although the space was so short, and, to add to the
poor man's misery, the fish which he had eaten caused him intolerable
thirst. But he reached the shore at last.

The first thing that greeted his eye as he landed was the sparkle of a
clear spring at the foot of some cocoanut-trees. He staggered eagerly
towards it, and fell down beside a hollow in the rock, like a large cup
or bowl, which had been scooped out by it.

Who shall presume to describe the feelings of that shipwrecked sailor as
he and his dog drank from the same cup at that sparkling crystal
fountain? Delicious odours of lime and citron trees, and well-nigh
forgotten herbage, filled his nostrils, and the twitter of birds
thrilled his ears, seeming to bid him welcome to the land, as he sank
down on the soft grass, and raised his eyes in thanksgiving to heaven.
An irresistible tendency to sleep then seized him.

"If there's a heaven upon earth, I'm in it now," he murmured, as he laid
down his head and closed his eyes.

Cuffy, nestling into his breast, placed his chin on his neck, and heaved
a deep, contented sigh. This was the last sound the sailor recognised,
as he sank into profound repose.

CHAPTER TWO.

ISLAND LIFE.

There are few of the minor sweets of life more agreeable than to awake
refreshed, and to become gradually impressed with the conviction that
you are a perfectly free agent,--that you may rise when you choose, or
lie still if you please, or do what you like, without let or hindrance.

So thought our hero, John Jarwin, when he awoke, on the same spot where
he had thrown himself down, after several hours of life-giving slumber.
He was still weak, but his weakness did not now oppress him. The slight
meal, the long draught, and the deep sleep, had restored enough of
vigour to his naturally robust frame to enable him, while lying on his
back, to enjoy his existence once more. He was, on first awaking, in
that happy condition of mind and body in which the former does not care
to think and the latter does not wish to move--yet both are pleased to
be largely conscious of their own identity.

That he had not moved an inch since he lay down, became somewhat
apparent to Jarwin from the fact that Cuffy's chin still rested
immovable on his neck, but his mind was too indolent to pursue the
thought. He had not the most remote idea as to where he was, but he
cared nothing for that. He was in abso