The crater, or, Vulcan's Peak : a tale of the Pacific |
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10. | CHAPTER X. |
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CHAPTER X. The crater, or, Vulcan's Peak : | ||
10. CHAPTER X.
Hath kept her temple undefiled
By sinful sacrifice,
Earth's fairest scenes are all his own,
He is a monarch, and his throne
Is built amid the skies.”
Wilson.
Our youthful hermit was quite two months in regaining
his strength, though, by the end of one he was able to look
about him, and turn his hand to many little necessary jobs.
The first thing he undertook was to set up a gate that
would keep the animals on the outside of the crater. The
pigs had not only consumed much the largest portion of
his garden truck, but they had taken a fancy to break up
the crust of that part of the crater where the grass was
showing itself, and to this inroad upon his meadows, Mark
had no disposition to submit. He had now ascertained
that the surface of the plain, though of a rocky appearance,
was so far shelly and porous that the seeds had taken very
generally; and as soon as their roots worked their way
into the minute crevices, he felt certain they would of
themselves convert the whole surface into a soil sufficiently
rich to nourish the plants he wished to produce there.
Under such circumstances he did not desire the assistance
of the hogs. As yet, however, the animals had done good,
rather than harm to the garden, by stirring the soil up,
and mixing the sea-weed and decayed fish with it; but
than useful. In most places the crust of the plain was just
thick enough to bear the weight of a man, and Mark, no
geologist, by the way, came to the conclusion that it existed
at all more through the agency of the salt deposited
in ancient floods, than from any other cause. According
to the great general law of the earth, soil should have been
formed from rock, and not rock from soil; though there
certainly are cases in which the earths indurate, as well
as become disintegrated. As we are not professing to
give a scientific account of these matters, we shall simply
state the facts, leaving better scholars than ourselves to
account for their existence.
Mark made his gate out of the fife-rail, at the foot of the
mainmast, sawing off the stanchions for that purpose.
With a little alteration it answered perfectly, being made
to swing from a post that was wedged into the arch, by
cutting it to the proper length. As this was the first attack
upon the Rancocus that had yet been made, by axe
or saw, it made the young man melancholy; and it was
only with great reluctance that he could prevail on himself
to begin what appeared like the commencement of breaking
up the good craft. It was done, however, and the gate
was hung; thereby saving the rest of the crop. It was
high time; the hogs and poultry, to say nothing of Kitty,
having already got their full share. The inroads of the
first, however, were of use in more ways than one, since
they taught our young cultivator a process by which he
could get his garden turned up at a cheap rate. They
also suggested to him an idea that he subsequently turned
to good account. Having dug his roots so early, it occurred
to Mark that, in so low a climate, and with such a
store of manure, he might raise two crops in a year, those
which came in the cooler months varying a little in their
properties from those which came in the warmer. On this
hint he endeavoured to improve, commencing anew beds
that, without it, would probably have lain fallow some
months longer.
In this way did our young man employ himself until he
found his strength perfectly restored. But the severe illness
he had gone through, with the sad views it had given
give up life itself, without a friendly hand to smooth his
pillow, or to close his eyes, led him to think far more seriously
than he had done before, on the subject of the true
character of our probationary condition here on earth, and
on the unknown and awful future to which it leads us.
Mark had been carefully educated on the subject of religion,
and was well enough disposed to enter into the inquiry
in a suitable spirit of humility; but, the grave circumstances
in which he was now placed, contributed
largely to the clearness of his views of the necessity of
preparing for the final change. Cut off, as he was, from
all communion with his kind; cast on what was, when he
first knew it, literally a barren rock in the midst of the
vast Pacific Ocean, Mark found himself, by a very natural
operation of causes, in much closer communion with his
Creator, than he might have been in the haunts of the
world. On the Reef, there was little to divert his thoughts
from their true course; and the very ills that pressed upon
him, became so many guides to his gratitude by showing,
through the contrasts, the many blessings which had been
left him by the mercy of the hand that had struck him.
The nights in that climate and season were much the
pleasantest portions of the four-and-twenty hours. There
were no exhalations from decayed vegetable substances or
stagnant pools, to create miasma, but the air was as pure
and little to be feared under a placid moon as under a
noon-day sun. The first hours of night, therefore, were
those in which our solitary man chose to take most of his
exercise, previously to his complete restoration to strength;
and then it was that he naturally fell into an obvious and
healthful communion with the stars.
So far as the human mind has as yet been able to penetrate
the mysteries of our condition here on earth, with
the double connection between the past and the future, all
its just inferences tend to the belief in an existence of a
vast and beneficent design. We have somewhere heard, or
read, that the gipsies believe that men are the fallen angels,
toiling their way backward on the fatal path along which
they formerly rushed to perdition. This may not be, probably
is not true, in its special detail; but that men are
condition of existence, is not only agreeable to our consciousness,
but is in harmony with revelation. Among the
many things that have been revealed to us, where so many
are hid, we are told that our information is to increase, as
we draw nearer to the millennium, until “The whole earth
shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the
waters cover the sea.” We may be far from that blessed
day; probably are; but he has lived in vain, who has dwelt
his half century in the midst of the civilization of this our
own age, and does not see around him the thousand proofs
of the tendency of things to the fulfilment of the decrees,
announced to us ages ago by the pens of holy men. Rome,
Greece, Egypt, and all that we know of the past, which
comes purely of man and his passions; empires, dynasties,
heresies and novelties, come and go like the changes of
the seasons; while the only thing that can be termed stable,
is the slow but sure progress of prophecy. The agencies
that have been employed to bring about the great ends
foretold so many centuries since, are so very natural, that
we often lose sight of the mighty truth in its seeming simplicity.
But, the signs of the times are not to be mistaken.
Let any man of fifty, for instance, turn his eyes toward the
East, the land of Judea, and compare its condition, its
promises of to-day, with those that existed in his own
youth, and ask himself how the change has been produced.
That which the Richards and Sts. Louis of the middle ages
could not effect with their armed hosts, is about to happen
as a consequence of causes so obvious and simple that they
are actually overlooked by the multitude. The Ottoman
power and Ottoman prejudices are melting away, as it
might be under the heat of divine truth, which is clearing
for itself a path that will lead to the fulfilment of its own
predictions.
Among the agents that are to be employed, in impressing
the human race with a sense of the power and benevolence
of the Deity, we think the science of astronomy,
with its mechanical auxiliaries, is to act its full share.
The more deeply we penetrate into the arcana of nature,
the stronger becomes the proofs of design; and a deity
thus obviously, tangibly admitted, the more profound will
Mark Woolston's youth, the great progress which has since
been made in astronomy, more especially in the way of its
details through observations, had but just commenced. A
vast deal, it is true, had been accomplished in the way of
pure science, though but little that came home to the understandings
and feelings of the mass. Mark's education
had given him an outline of what Herschel and his contemporaries
had been about, however; and when he sat on the
Summit, communing with the stars, and through those
distant and still unknown worlds, with their Divine First
Cause, it was with as much familiarity with the subject as
usually belongs to the liberally educated, without carrying
a particular branch of learning into its recesses. He had
increased his school acquisitions a little, by the study and
practice of Navigation, and had several works that he was
fond of reading, which may have made him a somewhat
more accurate astronomer than those who get only leading
ideas on the subject. Hours at a time did Mark linger on
the Summit, studying the stars in the clear, transparent
atmosphere of the tropics, his spirit struggling the while
to get into closer communion with that dread Being which
had produced all these mighty results; among which the
existence of the earth, its revolutions, its heats and colds,
its misery and happiness, are but specks in the incidents
of a universe. Previously to this period, he had looked
into these things from curiosity and a love of science;
now, they impressed him with the deepest sense of the
power and wisdom of the Deity, and caused him the better
to understand his own position in the scale of created
beings.
Not only did our young hermit study the stars with his
own eyes, but he had the aid of instruments. The ship
had two very good spy-glasses, and Mark himself was the
owner of a very neat reflecting telescope, which he had
purchased with his wages, and had brought with him as a
source of amusement and instruction. To this telescope
there was a brass stand, and he conveyed it to the tent on
the Summit, where it was kept for use. Aided by this
instrument, Mark could see the satellites of Jupiter and
Saturn, the ring of the latter, the belts of the former, and
spherical forms of all the nearer planets, then known to
astronomers, were plainly to be seen by the assistance of
this instrument; and there is no one familiar fact connected
with our observations of the heavenly bodies, that strikes
the human mind, through the senses, as forcibly as this.
For near a month, Mark almost passed the nights gazing
at the stars, and reflecting on their origin and uses. He
had no expectations of making discoveries, or of even adding
to his own stores of knowledge: but his thoughts were
brought nearer to his Divine Creator by investigations of
this sort; for where a zealous mathematician might have
merely exulted in the confirmation of some theory by means
of a fact, he saw the hand of God instead of the solution
of a problem. Thrice happy would it be for the man of
science, could he ever thus hold his powers in subjection to
the great object for which they were brought into existence;
and, instead of exulting in, and quarrelling about the pride
of human reason, be brought to humble himself and his
utmost learning, at the feet of Infinite Knowledge and
power, and wisdom, as they are thus to be traced in the
path of the Ancient of Days!
By the time his strength returned, Mark had given up,
altogether, the hope of ever seeing Betts again. It was
just possible that the poor fellow might fall in with a ship,
or find his way to some of the islands; but, if he did so,
it would be the result of chance and not of calculations.
The pinnace was well provisioned, had plenty of water,
and, tempests excepted, was quite equal to navigating the
Pacific; and there was a faint hope that Bob might continue
his course to the eastward, with a certainty of reaching
some part of South America in time. If he should
take this course, and succeed, what would be the consequence?
Who would put sufficient faith in the story of a
simple seaman, like Robert Betts, and send a ship to look
for Mark Woolston? In these later times, the government
would doubtless despatch a vessel of war on such an errand,
did no other means of rescuing the man offer; but, at the
close of the last century, government did not exercise that
much of power. It scarcely protected its seamen from the
English press-gang and the Algerine slave-driver; much
rock in the midst of the Pacific. American vessels did
then roam over that distant ocean, but it was comparatively
in small numbers, and under circumstances that promised
but little to the hopes of the hermit. It was a subject he
did not like to dwell on, and he kept his thoughts as much
diverted from it as it was in his power so to do.
The season had now advanced into as much of autumn
as could be found within the tropics, and on land so low.
Everything in the garden had ripened, and much had been
thrown out to the pigs and poultry, in anticipation of its
decay. Mark saw that it was time to re-commence his
beds, selecting such seed as would best support the winter
of that climate, if winter it could be called. In looking
around him, he made a regular survey of all his possessions,
inquiring into the state of each plant he had put into
the ground, as well as into that of the ground itself. First,
then, as respects the plants.
The growth of the oranges, lemons, cocoa-nuts, limes,
figs, &c., placed in rows beneath the cliffs, had been prodigious.
The water had run off the adjacent rocks and
kept them well moistened most of the season, though a
want of rain was seldom known on the Reef. Of the two,
too much, rather than too little water fell; a circumstance
that was of great service, however, in preserving the stock,
which had used little beside that it found in the pools, for
the last ten months. The shrubs, or little trees, were quite
a foot high, and of an excellent colour. Mark gave each
of them a dressing with the hoe, and manured all with a
sufficient quantity of the guano. About half he transplanted
to spots more favourable, putting the cocoa-nuts, in particular,
as near the sea as he could get them.
With respect to the other plants, it was found that each
had flourished precisely in proportion to its adaptation to
the climate. The products of some were increased in size,
while those of others had dwindled. Mark took note of
these facts, determining to cultivate those most which succeeded
best. The melons of both sorts, the tomatoes, the
egg-plants, the peppers, cucumbers, onions, beans, corn,
sweet-potatoes, &c. &c., had all flourished; while the Irish
potato, in particular, had scarce produced a tuber at all.
As for the soil, on examination Mark found it had been
greatly improved by the manure, tillage and water it had
received. The hogs were again let in to turn it over with
their snouts, and this they did most effectually in the course
of two or three days. By this time, in addition to the
three grown porkers our young man possessed, there were
no less than nine young ones. This number was getting
to be formidable, and he saw the necessity of killing off,
in order to keep them within reasonable limits. One of
the fattest and best he converted into pickled pork, not
from any want of that article, there being still enough left
in the ship to last him several years, but because he preferred
it corned to that which had been in the salt so long
a time. He saw the mistake he had made in allowing the
pigs to get to be so large, since the meat would spoil long
before he could consume even the smallest-sized shoats.
For their own good, however, he was compelled to shoot
no less than five, and these he buried entire, in deep places
in his garden, having heard that earth which had imbibed
animal substances, in this way, was converted into excellent
manure.
Mark now made a voyage to Loam Island, in quest of a
cargo, using the raft, and towing the dingui. It was on
this occasion that our young man was made to feel how
much he had lost, in the way of labour, in being deprived
of the assistance of Bob. He succeeded in loading his
raft, however, and was just about to sail for home again,
when it occurred to him that possibly the seeds and roots
of the asparagus he had put into a corner of the deposit
might have come to something. Sure enough, on going
to the spot, Mark found that the seed had taken well, and
hundreds of young plants were growing flourishingly, while
plants fit to eat had pushed their tops through the loam,
from the roots. This was an important discovery, asparagus
being a vegetable of which Mark was exceedingly fond,
and one easily cultivated. In that climate, and in a soil
sufficiently rich, it might be made to send up new shoots
the entire year; and there was little fear of scurvy so long
as he could obtain plenty of this plant to eat. The melons
and other vegetables, however, had removed all Mark's
dread of that formidable disease; more especially as he
that were almost oppressive. In a word, the means
of subsistence now gave the young man no concern whatever.
When he first found himself on a barren rock, indeed,
the idea had almost struck terror into his mind; but,
now that he had ascertained that his crater could be cultivated,
and promised, like most other extinct volcanoes,
unbounded fertility, he could no longer apprehend a disease
which is commonly owing to salted provisions.
When Mark found his health completely re-established,
he sat down and drew up a regular plan of dividing his
time between work, contemplation, and amusement. Fortunately,
perhaps, for one who lived in a climate where
vegetation was so luxuriant when it could be produced at
all, work was pressed into his service as an amusement.
Of the last, there was certainly very little, in the common
acceptation of the word; but our hermit was not without
it altogether. He studied the habits of the sea-birds that
congregated in thousands around so many of the rocks of
the Reef, though so few scarce ever ventured on the crater
island. He made voyages to and fro, usually connecting
business with pleasure. Taking favourable times for such
purposes, he floated several cargoes of loam to the Reef,
as well as two enormous rafts of sea-weed. Mark was
quite a month in getting these materials into his compost
heap, which he intended should lie in a pile during the
winter, in order that it might be ready for spading in the
spring. We use these terms by way of distinguishing the
seasons, though of winter, strictly speaking, there was none.
Of the two, the grass grew better at mid-winter than at
mid-summer, the absence of the burning heat of the last
being favourable to its growth. As the season advanced,
Mark saw his grass very sensibly increase, not only in surface,
but in thickness. There were now spots of some
size, where a turf was forming, nature performing all her
tasks in that genial climate, in about a fourth of the time
it would take to effect the same object in the temperate
zone. On examining these places, Mark came to the conclusion
that the roots of his grasses acted as cultivators,
by working their way into the almost insensible crevices
of the crust, letting in air and water to places whence they
to be the case with the grass that grew within the crater,
which had increased so much in the course of what may
be termed the winter, that it was really fast converting a
plain of a light drab colour, that was often painful to the
eyes, into a plot of as lovely verdure as ever adorned the
meadows of a Swiss cottage. It became desirable to keep
this grass down, and Kitty being unable to crop a meadow
of so many acres, Mark was compelled to admit his pigs
and poultry again. This he did at stated times only, however;
or when he was at work himself in the garden, and
could prevent their depredations on his beds. The rooting
gave him the most trouble; but this he contrived in a great
measure to prevent, by admitting his hogs only when they
were eager for grass, and turning them out as soon as they
began to generalize, like an epicure picking his nuts after
dinner.
It was somewhere near mid-winter, by Mark's calculations,
when the young man commenced a new task that
was of great importance to his comfort, and which might
affect his future life. He had long determined to lay down
a boat, one of sufficient size to explore the whole reef in,
if not large enough to carry him out to sea. The dingui
was altogether too small for labour; though exceedingly
useful in its way, and capable of being managed even in
pretty rough water by a skilful hand, it wanted both weight
and room. It was difficult to float in, even a raft of sea-weed,
with so light a boat; and as for towing the raft, it
was next to impossible. But the raft was unwiedly, and
when loaded down, besides carrying very little for its great
weight, it was very much at the mercy of the currents and
waves. Then the construction of a boat was having an
important purpose in view, and, in that sense, was a desirable
undertaking.
Mark had learned so much in putting the pinnace together,
that he believed himself equal to this new undertaking.
Materials enough remained in the ship to make half-a-dozen
boats, and in tumbling over the lumber he had found a
quantity of stuff that had evidently been taken in with a
view to repair boats, if not absolutely to construct them.
A ship's hold is such an omnium gatherum, stowage being
who does not know where to put his hand on everything,
to ascertain how much or how little is to be found in it.
Such was the fact with Mark, whose courtship and marriage
had made a considerable inroad on his duties as a
mate. As he overhauled the hold, he daily found fresh
reasons for believing that Friend Abraham White had
made provisions, of one sort and another, of which he was
profoundly ignorant, but which, as the voyage had terminated,
proved to be of the greatest utility. Thus it was,
that just as he was about to commence getting out these
great requisites from new planks, he came across a stem,
stern-frame, and keel of a boat, that was intended to be
eighteen feet long. Of course our young man profited by
this discovery, getting the materials of all sorts, including
these, round to the ship-yard by means of the raft.
For the next two months, or until he had reason to believe
spring had fairly set in, Mark toiled faithfully at
his boat. Portions of his work gave him a great deal of
trouble; some of it on account of ignorance of the craft,
and some on account of his being alone. Getting the
awning up anew cost poor Mark the toil of several days,
and this because his single strength was not sufficient to
hoist the corners of that heavy course, even when aided
by watch-tackles. He was compelled to rig a crab, with
which he effected his purpose, reserving the machine to
aid him on other occasions. Then the model of the boat
cost him a great deal of time and labour. Mark knew a
good bottom when he saw it, but that was a very different
thing from knowing how to make one. Of the rules of
draughting he was altogether ignorant, and his eye was
his only guide. He adopted a plan that was sufficiently
ingenious, though it would never do to build a navy on the
same principle.
Having a great plenty of deal, Mark got out in the rough
about twice as many timbers for one side of his boat as
would be required, in this thin stuff, when he set them up
in their places. Aided by this beginning, the young man
began to dub and cut away, until he got each piece into
something very near the shape his eye told him it ought to
be. Even after he had got as far as this, our boat-builder
in otherwise reducing his lines to fair proportions. Satisfied,
at length, with the bottom he had thus fashioned,
Mark took out just one half of his pieces, leaving the other
half standing. After these moulds did he saw and cut his
boat's timbers, making, in each instance, duplicates. When
the ribs and floors of his craft were ready, he set them up
in the vacancies, and secured them, after making an accurate
fit with the pieces left standing. On knocking away
the deal portions of his work, Mark had the frame of his
boat complete. This was much the most troublesome part
of the whole job; nor was it finished, when the young man
was obliged, by the progress of the seasons, to quit the
ship-yard for the garden.
Mark had adopted a system of diet and a care of his
person, that kept him in perfect health, illness being the
evil that he most dreaded. His food was more than half
vegetable, several plants having come forward even in the
winter; and the asparagus, in particular, yielding at a rate
that would have made the fortune of a London gardener.
The size of the plants he cut was really astounding, a
dozen stems actually making a meal. The hens laid all
winter, and eggs were never wanting. The corned pork
gave substance, as well as a relish, to all the dishes the
young man cooked; and the tea, sugar and coffee, promising
to hold out years longer, the table still gave him little
concern. Once in a month, or so, he treated himself to a
bean-soup, or a pea-soup, using the stores of the Rancocus
for that purpose, foreseeing that the salted meats would
spoil after a time, and the dried vegetables get to be worthless,
by means of insects and worms. By this time, however,
there were fresh crops of both those vegetables, which
grew better in the winter than they could in the summer,
in that hot climate. Fish, too, were used as a change,
whenever the young man had an inclination for that sort
of food, which was as often as three or four times a week;
the little pan-fish already mentioned, being of a sort of
which one would scarcely ever tire.
It being a matter of some moment to save unnecessary
labour, Mark seldom cooked more than once in twenty-four
hours, and then barely enough to last for that day.
really necessary for the wants of one person, it being his
opinion that a quarter of an acre of such soil as that which
now composed his garden, would more than furnish all the
vegetables he could consume. The soil, it is true, was of
a very superior quality. Although it had lain so long unproductive
and seemingly barren, now that it had been
stirred, and air and water were admitted, and guano, and
sea-weed, and loam, and dead fish had been applied, and
all in quantities that would have been deemed very ample
in the best wrought gardens of christendom, the acre he
had under tillage might be said to have been brought to
the highest stage of fertility. It wanted a little in consistency,
perhaps; but the compost heap was very large,
containing enough of all the materials just mentioned to
give the garden another good dressing. As for the grass,
Mark was convinced the guano was all-sufficient for that,
and this he took care to apply as often as once in two or
three months.
Our young man was never tired, indeed, with feasting
his eyes with the manner in which the grass had spread
over the mount. It is true, that he had scattered seed, at
odd and favourable moments, over most of it, by this time;
but he was persuaded the roots of those first sown would
have extended themselves, in the course of a year or two,
over the whole Summit. Nor were these grasses thin and
sickly, threatening as early an extinction as they had been
quick in coming to maturity. On the contrary, after
breaking what might be called the crust of the rock with
their vigorous though nearly invisible roots, they made a
bed for themselves, on which they promised to repose for
ages. The great frequency of the rains favoured their
growth, and Mark was of opinion after the experience of
one summer, that his little mountain might be green the
year round.
We have called the mount of the crater little, but the
term ought not to be used in reference to such a hill, when
the extent of the island itself was considered. By actual
measurement, Mark had ascertained that there was one
knoll on the Summit which was just seventy-two feet above
the level of the rock. The average height, however, might
barrier of the crater had almost as much as the plain within
it, though it was so broken and uneven as not to appear
near as large. Kitty had long since determined that the
hill was more than large enough for all her wants; and
glad enough did she seem when Mark succeeded, after a
great deal of difficulty, in driving the hogs up a flight of
steps he had made within the crater, to help her crop the
herbage. As for the rooting of the last, so long as they
were on the Summit, it was so much the better; since, in
that climate, it was next to impossible to kill grass that
was once fairly in growth, and the more the crust of the
ashes was broken, the more rapid and abundant would be
the vegetation.
Mark had, of course, abandoned the idea of continuing
to cultivate his melons, or any other vegetables, on the
Summit, or he never would have driven his hogs there.
He was unwilling, notwithstanding, to lose the benefit of
the deposits of soil and manure which he and Bob had
made there with so much labour to themselves. After
reflecting what he could do with them, he came to the
conclusion that he would make small enclosures around
some fifteen or twenty of the places, and transplant some
of the fig-trees, orange-trees, limes, lemons, &c., which
still stood rather too thick within the crater to ripen their
fruits to advantage. In order to make these little enclosures,
Mark merely drove into the earth short posts, passing
around them old rope, of which there was a superabundance
on board the ship. This arrangement suggested
the idea of fencing in the garden, by the same means, in
order to admit the pigs to eat the grass, when he was not
watching them. By the time these dispositions were made,
it was necessary to begin again to put in the seeds.
On this occasion Mark determined to have a succession
of crops, and not to bring on everything at once, as he had
done the first year of his tillage. Accordingly, he would
manure and break up a bed, and plant or sow it, waiting
a few days before he began another. Experience had told
him that there was never an end to vegetation in that climate,
and he saw no use in pushing his labours faster than
he might require their fruits. It was true, certain plants
periods, but the season was so long as very well to allow
of the arrangement just mentioned. As this distribution
of his time gave the young man a good deal of leisure, he
employed it in the ship-yard. Thus the boat and the garden
were made to advance together, and when the last was
sown and planted, the first was planked. When the last
bed was got in, moreover, those first set in order were
already giving forth their increase. Mark had abundance
of delicious salad, young onions, radishes that seemed to
grow like mushrooms, young peas, beans, &c., in quantities
that enabled him to turn the hogs out on the Reef,
and keep them well on the refuse of his garden, assisted a
little by what was always to be picked up on the rocks.
By this time Mark had settled on a system which he
thought to pursue. There was no use in his raising more
pigs than he could use. Taking care to preserve the
breed, therefore, he killed off the pigs, of which he had
fresh litters, from time to time; and when he found the
old hogs getting to be troublesome, as swine will become
with years, he just shot them, and buried their bodies in
his compost heap, or in his garden, where one common-sized
hog would render highly fertile several yards square
of earth, or ashes. This practice he continued ever after,
extending it to his fowls and ducks, the latter of which
produced a great many eggs. By rigidly observing this
rule, Mark avoided an evil which is very common even in
inhabited countries, that of keeping more stock than is
good for their owner. Six or eight hens laid more eggs
than he could consume, and there was always a sufficient
supply of chickens for his wants. In short, our hermit
had everything he actually required, and most things that
could contribute to his living in great abundance. The
necessity 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
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 fidning 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 X. The crater, or, Vulcan's Peak : | ||