of cooking for himself, and the want of pure,
cold spring water, were the two greatest physical hardships he endured.
There were moments, indeed, when Mark would have gladly yielded one-half
of the advantages he actually possessed, to have a good spring of living
water. Then he quelled the repinings of his spirit at this privation, by
endeavouring to recall how many blessings were left at his command,
compared to the wants and sufferings of many another shipwrecked
mariner of whom he had read or heard.

The spring passed as pleasantly as thoughts of home and Bridget would
allow, and his beds and plantations flourished to a degree that
surprised him. As for the grass, as soon as it once got root, it became
a most beneficial assistant to his plans of husbandry. Nor was it grass
alone that rewarded Mark's labours and forethought in his meadows and
pastures. Various flowers appeared in the herbage; and he was delighted
at finding a little patch of the common wild strawberry, the seed of
which had doubtless got mixed with those of the grasses. Instead of
indulging his palate with a taste of this delicious and most salubrious
fruit, Mark carefully collected it all, made a bed in his garden, and
included the cultivation of this among his other plants. He would not
disturb a single root of the twenty or thirty different shoots that he
found, all being together, and coming from the same cast of his hand
while sowing, lest it might die; but, with the seed of the fruit, he was
less chary. One thing struck Mark as singular. Thus far his garden was
absolutely free from weeds of every sort. The seed that he put into the
ground came up, and nothing else. This greatly simplified his toil,
though he had no doubt that, in the course of time, he should meet with
intruders in his beds. He could only account for this circumstance by
the facts, that the ashes of the volcano contained of themselves no
combination of the elements necessary to produce plants, and that the
manures he used, in their nature, were free from weeds.

Chapter XI.

"The globe around earth's hollow surface shakes,
And is the ceiling of her sleeping sons:
O'er devastation we blind revels keep;
While buried towns support the dancer's heel."

Young.

It was again mid-summer ere Mark Woolston had his boat ready for
launching. He had taken things leisurely, and completed his work in all
its parts, before he thought of putting the craft