Having provided my implements I now proceeded to till my land. I took a
whole back-aching day to pluck all the large weeds and stones off my
farm, and retired weary at night to dream of my flourishing crops of the
future.

Up with the lark next morning, I set out to find my noble long-eared
steed, Edward; but although I roamed about for an hour and a half I
could not discover him anywhere, so breakfasted and searched again, but
to no purpose. I gave him up as having been drowned whilst browsing on
the toothsome but truculent thistle or gorse. I looked at my plough and
cart in dismay, saying, "Man proposes, and an ass disposes." But shortly
after this dismal reflection, judge of my joy when I heard his musical
voice lifted up in sweet song, and borne to my enraptured ears on the
balmy noontide breeze. Laugh not, reader, for the poor brute's voice
_was_ sweeter to me in my loneliness than that of the greatest operatic
singer who ever trilled her wondrous notes.

Even after hearing the ass's braying I was a long time before I came
upon him quite down upon the stony shore, with not a blade of grass nor
even a thistle for him to nibble at. How he got there is to me a problem
to this day; but how I laboured to get him up again will ever remain in
my mind, for it makes me feel sore all over to think of it.

Where I found him was at the south end of the island, facing rocky
Fauconnaire. How I wandered up and down seeking a place for him to
regain the lower path of the island. But all in vain. No place could I
find; and all the afternoon I worked like a Titan, getting him up to the
pathway again. Poor fellow! he was very docile, and I had thoughts of
trying to carry him up; but although I got under him and lifted him, I