and hewed off each side, till it became light to move; then I turned it, made one side of is smooth and flat as a board from end to end, then turned it downward, cutting the other side, till I brouht the plank to be about three inches thick, and smooth on both sides.  Any body may judge my great labour and fatigue in such a piece of work; but this I went through with patience, as also many other things that my circumstances made necessary for me to do.

The harvest months, November and December, were now at hand, in which I had the pleasing prospect of a very good crop.  But here I met with a new problem; for the goats and hares, having tasted of the outshoot of the blade, kept it to short that it had not strengthen to shoot up into a stalk.  To prevent this, I enclosed it with a hedge, and by day shot some of its devourers; and my dog which I had tied to the field-gate, keeping barking all night; so frightened those creatures, that I got entirely rid of them.

But no sooner did I get rid of these, than other enemies appeared, to wit, whole flocks of several sorts of birds, who only waited till my back was turned, to ruin me:  so much did this provoke me, that I let fly, and killed three of the malefactors; and afterwards served them as they do notorious thieves in England, hung them up in chains as a terror to others.  And, indeed, to good an effect had this that they not only forsook the corn, but all that part of the island, so long as these criminals hung there.

My corn having ripened apace, the latter end of December, which was my second harvest, I reaped it with a scythe, made of one of my broad swords.  I had no fatigue in cutting down my my first crop it was so slender.  The ears I carried home in a basket, rubbing it with my hands, instead of threshing it:  and when the harvest was over, found my half peck of seed produced near two bushels of rice, and two bushels and a half of barley.  And now I plainly foresaw, that by God’s goodness, I should be furnished with bread; but yet I was concerned, because I knew not how to grind or make meal of my corn, nor bread, neither knew how to bake it.  I would not however, taste any of the crop, but resolved to preserve it against next season, and, in the mean while, use my best endeavours to provide myself with other food.

But where were my labours to end?  The want of a plough to turn up the earth, or shovel to dig it, I conquered by making me a wooden spade.  The want of a harrow I supplied myself, with dragging over the corn a great bough of a tree.  When it was growing I was forced to fence it; when ripe to mow it, carry it home, thrash it, part it from the chaff, and save it.  And, after all, I wanted a mill to grind it, sieve to dress it, yest and salt to make it into bread, and an oven to bake it.  This set my brains to work to find some expedient for every one of these necessaries against the next harvest.