One lady there, from Chile, who made a flying-jib for the _Spray_, taking her pay in tallow, would be called a belle at Newport.

Blessed island of Juan Fernandez! Why Alexander Selkirk ever left you was more than I could make out.
[Illustration: Robinson Crusoe's cave.] A large ship which had arrived some time before, on fire, had been stranded at the head of the bay, and as the sea smashed her to pieces on the rocks, after the fire was drowned, the islanders picked up the timbers and utilized them in the construction of houses, which naturally presented a ship-like appearance.

The house of the king of Juan Fernandez, Manuel Carroza by name, besides resembling the ark, wore a polished brass knocker on its only door, which was painted green.

In front of this gorgeous entrance was a flag-mast all ataunto, and near it a smart whale-boat painted red and blue, the delight of the king's old age.
I of course made a pilgrimage to the old lookout place at the top of the mountain, where Selkirk spent many days peering into the distance for the ship which came at last.

From a tablet fixed into the face of the rock I copied these words, inscribed in Arabic capitals: /*[4] IN MEMORY OF ALEXANDER SELKIRK, MARINER, */ /# A native of Largo, in the county of Fife, Scotland, who lived on this island in complete solitude for four years and four months.