The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert IslandWyss, Johann David
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The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert Island
Wyss, Johann David
Family life -- Fiction; Islands -- Fiction; Survival -- Fiction
Next morning, my wife said: "If you can exist on shore long enough to
visit Falconhurst, dear husband, I should like you to attend to the
little fruit trees. I fear they have been too much neglected. I have
watered them occasionally, and spread earth over the roots as they lay,
but I could not manage to plant them."
"You have done far more than I could have expected, my wife," I replied,
"and provided you do not ask me to give up the sea altogether, I most
willingly agree to your request, and will go to Falconhurst as soon as
the raft is unloaded, and everything safely arranged here."
Life on shore was an agreeable change for us all, and the boys went
actively to work, so that the stores were quickly brought up to the
tent, piled in order, and carefully covered with sailcloths, fastened
down by pegs all round. The pinnace being provided with an anchor, was
properly moored, and her elegant appearance quite altered the looks of
our harbor, hitherto occupied only by the grotesque tub-boat, and flat,
uninteresting raft.
Taking an ample supply of everything we should require at Falconhurst,
we were soon comfortably re-established in that charming abode, its
peaceful shade seeming more delightful than ever, after the heat and
hard work we had lately undergone.
Several Sundays had passed during our stay at Tentholm, and the welcome
Day of Rest now returned again, to be observed with heartfelt devotion
and grateful praise.
I did not attempt too much in the form of preaching, as I could not
have secured the attention of my hearers to any long-winded discourse,
but they were interested in the Bible reading and simple instructions I
drew from it, and their young voices joined sweetly in favorite hymns,
which my wife sang from memory.
In the evening I desired the boys to let me see their dexterity in
athletic exercises, such as running, leaping, wrestling, and climbing;
telling them they must keep up the practice of these things, so as to
grow strong, active men, powerful to repel and cope with danger, as well
as agile and swift-footed to escape from it. No man can be really
courageous and self-reliant without an inward consciousness of physical
power and capability.
"I want to see my sons strong, both morally and physically," said I;
"that means, little Franz," as the large blue eyes looked inquiringly up
at me, "brave to do what is good and right, and to hate evil, and strong
to work, hunt, and provide for themselves and others, and to fight if
necessary."
On the following day, the boys seeming disposed to carry out my wishes
by muscular exercise of all sorts, I encouraged them by saying I meant
to prepare a curious new weapon for them, only they must promise not to
neglect the practice of archery; as to their guns, I had no reason to
fear they would be laid aside.
Taking a long cord, I attached a leaden bullet to each end and had
instantly to answer a storm of questions as to what this could possibly
be for.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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