"For the present, and before we go into home manufactures," said Max, "I advise Shakespeare, in order to avoid the loss of his remaining self-respect in consequence of wearing foul linen, to betake himself to the beach, wash his garments, and take a bath until they dry in the sun, which is the course I intend to pursue myself." "And what are we going to do for shoes, I wonder!" said Johnny, "mine are badly cracked and torn, and nearly worn out: we shall all have to go barefoot!" and he looked aghast at the thought. "We must kill a shark by-and-bye," said Arthur, "when we have nothing more pressing to do; and we can make leggins, or moccasins, from the skin." "How these things kill the romance and poetry of desert island life!" said Max, "there's no romance about being out at the elbows, or being obliged to wear dirty linen--" "Or in doing one's own washing in salt-water, and sitting naked while one's clothes are drying," interposed Browne, pathetically. "Or in having your toes poke out at the end of your boots," added Morton, advancing his right foot in illustration. "No! these are all stern realities," said Max, "cases not provided for in the story-books; how is it, Johnny, are there any precedents going to show how desert islanders do their washing and mending?" "I think they generally saved heaps of clothes from the wreck," answered Johnny, gravely. "Robinson Crusoe brought off several chests, containing ever so many sailors' clothes of all sorts; whether there were any shoes or not, I don't remember: the Swiss family Robinson also obtained an abundance of such things from the wreck of their ship before it sunk; Philip Quarll made garments for himself from the skins of animals." "But what are we to do? we havn't any wreck from which to supply ourselves with chests of clothing, with arms and ammunition, and stores of ship-biscuit and salt provisions. We're worse off it seems, than any of our predecessors. And since we are not supplied with the requisite capital and stock-in-trade for desert islanders, it is reasonable to infer that we are not destined to a Robinson Crusoe life, so that we may confidently expect to be taken off by some ship, in a short time." As we were finishing our breakfast, a couple of tiny, fairy-like tern, came flying round us. They were very tame, and hovered smoothly over our heads, at the distance of sometimes but a few feet. Their plumage was snowy-white, and as they glided quietly around, peering curiously into our faces, you could almost fancy that there was the gleam of intelligence in their large eyes. "O, what beautiful little birds!" cried Johnny, in great delight: "I wish I had some crumbs of bread for them."