never seen one at that time. The fish were so strong and large, that,
when I was young, the man would not allow me to attempt to catch
them, lest they should pull me into the water; but, as I grew bigger,
I could master them. Such was our food from one year's end to the
other; we had no variety, except when occasionally we broiled the
dried birds or the fish upon the embers, instead of eating them dried
by the sun. Our raiment, such as it was, we were also indebted to the
feathered tribe for. The birds were skinned with the feathers on, and
their skins sewn together with sinews, and a fish-bone by way of a
needle. These garments were not very durable, but the climate was so
fine that we did not suffer from the cold at any season of the year.
I used to make myself a new dress every year when the birds came; but
by the time that they returned, I had little left of my last year's
suit, the fragments of which might be found among the rocky and steep
parts of the ravine where we used to collect firing.

Living such a life, with so few wants, and those periodically and
easily supplied, hardly varied from one year's end to another, it may
easily be imagined that I had but few ideas. I might have had more,
if my companion had not been of such a taciturn and morose habit; as
it was, I looked at the wide ocean, and the sky, and the sun, moon,
and stars, wondering, puzzled, afraid to ask questions, and ending
all by sleeping away a large portion of my existence. We had no tools
except the old ones, which were useless--no employment of any kind.
There was a book, and I asked what it was for and what it was, but I
got no answer. It remained upon the shelf, for if I looked at it I
was ordered away, and at last I regarded it with a sort of fear, as
if it were a kind of incomprehensible animal. The day was passed in
idleness and almost silence; perhaps not a dozen sentences were
exchanged in the twenty-four hours. My companion always the same,