ld flagstaff convinced him that
his hopes would, in all probability, be doomed to disappointment, and
that he would soon fall back into a state of apathy, from which he might
perhaps be unable to rouse himself, in which case his fate would
certainly be that of the poor sailor whose remains he had that day
buried in the pit near to which they had been discovered. He resolved,
therefore, to give up watching altogether, and to devote all his
energies in future to devising some plan of escape from the island, but
when he bent his mind to this task he felt a deep sinking of the heart,
for he had no implements wherewith to construct a boat or canoe.

Suddenly it occurred to him, for the first time in his life, that he
ought, in this extremity, to pray to God for help. He was, as we have
said, a straightforward man, prompt to act as well as ready to conceive.
He fell on his knees at once, humbly confessed his sin in depending so
entirely on himself in time past, and earnestly asked help and guidance
for the future. His prayer was not long--neither was the publican's--
but it was effectual. He arose with feelings of strong resolution and
confidence, which appeared to himself quite unaccountable, for he had
not, as yet, conceived any new idea or method as to escaping from the
island. Instead of setting his mind to work, as he had intended, he
could not help dwelling on the fact that he had never before
deliberately asked help from his Maker, and this raised a train of
self-condemnatory thoughts which occupied him the remainder of that day.
At night he prayed again before laying down to rest.

Next morning he rose like a giant refreshed, and, after a plunge in the
sea and a hearty breakfast, set out with Cuffy for a meditative walk.

Great were the thoughts that swelled the seaman's broad chest during
that walk, and numerous, as well as wild and quaint, were the plans of
escape which he conceived and found it necessary to abandon.

"It's harder work to think it out than I had expected, Cuffy," he said,
sitting down on a cliff that overlooked the sea, and thinking aloud.
"If you and I could only swim twenty miles or so at a stretch, I'd risk
it; but, as nothin' short o' that would be likely to be of sarvice, we
must give it up. Then, if I could only cut down trees with my shoe, and
saw planks with my jacket, we might make a boat; but I can't do that,
and we haven't no nails--except our toe-nails, which ain't the right
sha