goats; I will also have Guinea-pigs, agoutis, and coatis. My house
shall be enlarged, I will have a farm, a dairy! But the time has not
yet come; let us first prepare the garden. Why has it not been already
prepared? I am impatient to render the earth productive, fruitful by
my cares, to walk in the shade of the trees I may plant; it seems to
me that I shall be at home there, more than any where else!'

You are right, Selkirk; to possess the entire island, is to possess
nothing; it is simply to have permission to hunt, a right of promenade
and pasture, which the other inhabitants of the island, quadrupeds or
birds, can claim as well as yourself. What is property, without the
power of improvement? Can the earth become the domain of a single
person, when the true limits of his possessions must always be those
of the field which affords him subsistence? Envy not then the
happiness of the rich; they are but the transient holders and
distributors of the public fortune; we possess, in reality, only that
which we can ourselves enjoy; the rest escapes us, and contributes to
the well-being of others.

Selkirk comprehends that his streams, his bank of turf, his fish-pond,
his bed of water-cresses, his grotto, his cabin, belong to him far
otherwise than the twelve or fifteen square leagues of his island; to
his private domain he now intends to add a garden, and this garden,
this orchard, will be to him an increase of his wealth, since it will
aid in the satisfaction of his wants.

The humidity with which the earth begins to be penetrated, facilitates
his labors; he sets himself to the work.

Behold him then, now armed with his hatchet, now with a wooden shovel,