The gratitude of Mr. Merton for his son’s escape was unbounded, and even Mrs. Merton was ashamed of her disparaging remarks about Harry. As for Tommy, he went to his friend’s home to seek reconciliation, reflecting with shame and contempt upon the ridiculous prejudices he had once entertained.
He had now learned to consider all men as his brethren, not forgetting the poor negro; and that, as he said, it is much better to be useful than rich or fine.
* * * * *
DANIEL DEFOE
Robinson Crusoe
Daniel Defoe,
English novelist, historian and pamphleteer,
was born in 1660 or
1661, in London, the son of James Foe, a
butcher, and only assumed
the name of De Foe, or Defoe, in
middle life. He
was brought up as a dissenter, and became a
dealer in hosiery in
the city. He early began to publish his
opinions on social and
political questions, and was an
absolutely fearless
writer, audacious and independent, so that
he twice suffered imprisonment
for his daring. The immortal
“Robinson Crusoe”
was published on April 25, 1719. Defoe was
already fifty-eight
years of age. It was the first English
work of fiction that
represented the men and manners of its
own time as they were.
It appeared in several parts, and the
first part, which is
here epitomised, was so successful that
no fewer than four editions
were printed in as many months.
“Robinson Crusoe”
was widely pirated, and its authorship gave
rise to absurd rumours.
Some claimed it had been written by
Lord Oxford in the Tower;
others that Defoe had appropriated
Alexander Selkirk’s
papers. The latter idea was only justified
inasmuch as the story
was partly founded on Selkirk’s
adventures and partly
on Dampier’s voyages. Defoe died on
April 26, 1731.
I.—I Go to Sea
I was born of a good family in the city of York, where my father—a foreigner, of Bremen—settled after having retired from business. My father had given me a competent share of learning and designed me for the law; but I would be satisfied in nothing but going to sea. My mind was filled with thoughts of seeing the world, and nothing could persuade me to give up my desire.
At length, on September 1, 1651, I left home, and went on board a ship bound for London. The ship was no sooner out of the Humber than the wind began to blow and the sea to rise in a most frightful manner; and as I had never been at sea before, I was most inexpressibly sick in body and terrified in mind. The next day, however, the wind abated, and for several days the weather continued calm. My fears being forgotten, and the current of my desires returned, I entirely forgot the vows to return home that I made in my distress.