After I had been two or three days returned to my castle, I thought that, in order to bring Friday off from his horrid way of feeding, and from the relish of a cannibal’s stomach, I ought to let him taste other flesh;

so I took him out with me one morning to the woods.

I went, indeed, intending to kill a kid out of my own flock, and bring him home and dress it;

but as I was going, I saw a she-goat lying down in the shade, and two young kids sitting by her.

I caught hold of Friday.

“Hold,” says I, “stand still,” and made signs to him not to stir.

Immediately I presented my piece, shot and killed one of the kids.

The poor creature, who had, at a distance indeed, seen me kill the savage his enemy, but did not know, or could imagine, how it was done, was sensibly surprised, trembled and shook, and looked so amazed, that I thought he would have sunk down.

He did not see the kid I had shot at, or perceive I had killed it, but ripped up his waistcoat to feel if he was not wounded;

and, as I found presently, thought I was resolved to kill him;

for he came and kneeled down to me, and embracing my knees, said a great many things I did not understand;

but I could easily see that the meaning was to pray me not to kill him.

 I soon found a way to convince him that I would do him no harm;

and taking him up by the hand, laughed at him, and pointing to the kid which I had killed, beckoned to him to run and fetch it, which he did;

and while he was wondering, and looking to see how the creature was killed, I loaded my gun again;

and by and by I saw a great fowl, like a hawk, sit upon a tree, within shot;

so, to let Friday understand a little what I would do, I called him to me again, pointing at the fowl, which was indeed a parrot, though I thought it had been a hawk;

I say, pointing to the parrot, and to my gun, and to the ground under the parrot, to let him see I would make it fall, I made him understand that I would shoot and kill that bird.

Accordingly I fired, and bade him look, and immediately he saw the parrot fall.

He stood like one frightened again, notwithstanding all I had said to him;

and I found he was the more amazed, because he did not see me put anything into the gun, but thought that there must be some wonderful fund of death and destruction in that thing, able to kill man, beast, bird, or anything near or far off;

and the astonishment this created in him was such as could not wear off for a long time;

and I believe, if I would have let him, he would have worshipped me and my gun.

As for the gun itself, he would not so much as touch it for several days after;

but would speak to it, and talk to it, as if it had answered him, when he was by himself;

which, as I afterwards learned of him, was to desire it not to kill him.

 Well, after his astonishment was a little over at this, I pointed to him to run and fetch the bird I had shot, which he did, but stayed some time;

for the parrot, not being quite dead, fluttered a good way off from the place where she fell.

However, he found her, took her up, and brought her to me;

and as I had perceived his ignorance about the gun before, I took this advantage to charge the gun again, and not let him see me do it, that I might be ready for any other mark that might present.

But nothing more offered at that time;

so I brought home the kid, and the same evening I took the skin off, and cut it out as well as I could;

and having a pot for that purpose, I boiled or stewed some of the flesh, and made some very good broth;

and after I had begun to eat some, I gave some to my man, who seemed very glad of it, and liked it very well;

but that which was strangest to him, was to see me eat salt with it.

He made a sign to me that the salt was not good to eat, and putting a little into his own mouth, he seemed to nauseate it, and would spit and sputter at it, washing his mouth with fresh water after it.

On the other hand, I took some meat in my mouth without salt, and I pretended to spit and sputter for want of salt, as fast as he had done at the salt.

But it would not do; he would never care for salt with his meat or in his broth;

at least, not a great while, and then but a very little.

 Having thus fed him with boiled meat and broth, I was resolved to feast him the next day with roasting a piece of the kid.

This I did by hanging it before the fire in a string, as I had seen many people do in England, setting two poles up, one on each side of the fire, and one cross on the top, and tying the string to the cross stick, letting the meat turn continually.

 This Friday admired very much.

But when he came to taste the flesh, he took so many ways to tell me how well he liked it, that I could not but understand him;

and at last he told me he would never eat man’s flesh any more, which I was very glad to hear.

 The next day I set him to work to beating some corn out, and sifting it in the manner I used to do, as I observed before;

and he soon understood how to do it as well as I, especially after he had seen what the meaning of it was, and that it was to make bread of;

for after that I let him see me make my bread, and bake it too;

and in a little time Friday was able to do all the work for me, as well as I could do it myself.

 I began now to consider that, having two mouths to feed instead of one, I must provide more ground for my harvest, and plant a larger quantity of corn than I used to do;

so I marked out a larger piece of land, and began the fence in the same manner as before, in which Friday not only worked very willingly and very hard, but did it very cheerfully;

and I told him what it was for;

that it was for corn to make more bread, because he was now with me, and that I might have enough for him and myself too.

He appeared very sensible of that part, and let me know that he thought I had much more labor upon me on his account, than I had for myself;

and that he would work the harder for me, if I would tell him what to do.

 This was the pleasantest year of all the life I led in this place.

Friday began to talk pretty well, and understand the names of almost everything I had occasion to call for, and of every place I had to send him to, and talk a great deal to me;

so that, in short, I began now to have some use for my tongue again, which, indeed, I had very little occasion for before, that is to say, about speech.

Besides the pleasure of talking to him, I had a singular satisfaction in the fellow himself.

His simple, unfeigned honesty appeared to me more and more every day, and I began really to love the creature;

and, on his side, I believed he loved me more than it was possible for him ever to love anything before.

 I had a mind once to try if he had any hankering inclination for his own country again;

and having taught him English so well that he could answer me almost any questions,

I asked him whether the nation that he belonged to never conquered in battle?

At which he smiled, and said, “Yes, yes, we always fight the better”;

that is, he meant, always get the better in fight;

and so we began the following discourse: “You always fight the better,” said I.

“How came you to be taken prisoner then, Friday?”

 _Friday._

My nation beat much for all that.

 _Master._ How beat?

If your nation beat them, how came you to be taken?

 _Friday._ They more many than my nation in the place where me was;

they take one, two, three, and me.

My nation overbeat them in the yonder place, where me no was: there my nation take one, two, great thousand.

 _Master._ But why did not your side recover you from the hands of your enemies then?

 _Friday._ They run one, two, three and me, and make go in the canoe;

my nation have no canoe that time.

 _Master._ Well, Friday, and what does your nation do with the men they take?

Do they carry them away and eat them, as these did?

 _Friday._ Yes, my nation eat mans too;

eat all up.

 _Master._

Where do they carry them?

 _Friday._

Go to other place, where they think.

 _Master._ Do they come hither?

 _Friday._ Yes, yes, they come hither;

come other else place.

 _Master._

Have you been here with them?

 _Friday._ Yes, I been here.

(_Points to the N.W. side of the island, which, it seems, was their side._)

 By this I understood that my man Friday had formerly been among the savages who used to come on shore on the farther part of the island, on the same man-eating occasions that he was now brought for;

and, some time after, when I took the courage to carry him to that side, being the same I formerly mentioned, he presently knew the place, and told me he was there once when they ate up twenty men, two women, and one child.

He could not tell twenty in English, but he numbered them by laying so many stones in a row, and pointing to me to tell them over.

 I have told this passage, because it introduces what follows;

that after I had had this discourse with him, I asked him how far it was from our island to the shore, and whether the canoes were not often lost.

He told me there was no danger, no canoes ever lost;

but that, after a little way out to the sea, there was a current and a wind, always one way in the morning, the other in the afternoon.

 This I understood to be no more than the sets of the tide, as going out or coming in;

but I afterwards understood it was occasioned by the great draught and reflux of the mighty river Orinoco, in the mouth or the gulf of which river, as I found afterwards, our island lay;

and this land which I perceived to the W. and N.W. was the great island Trinidad, on the north point of the mouth of the river.

I asked Friday a thousand questions about the country, the inhabitants, the sea, the coast, and what nations were near.

He told me all he knew, with the greatest openness imaginable.

I asked him the names of the several nations of his sort of people, but could get no other name than Caribs; from whence I easily understood that these were the Caribbees, which our maps place on the part of America which reaches from the mouth of the river Orinoco to Guiana, and onwards to St. Martha.

He told me that up a great way beyond the moon, that was, beyond the setting of the moon, which must be W. from their country, there dwelt white-bearded men, like me, and pointed to my great whiskers, which I mentioned before;

and that they had killed much mans, that was his word;

by all which I understood he meant the Spaniards, whose cruelties in America had been spread over the whole countries, and was remembered by all the nations from father to son.

 I inquired if he could tell me how I might come from this island and get among those white men.

He told me, “Yes, yes, I might go in two canoe.”

I could not understand what he meant, or make him describe to me what he meant by two canoe;

till at last, with great difficulty, I found he meant it must be in a large great boat, as big as two canoes.

 This part of Friday’s discourse began to relish with me very well;

and from this time I entertained some hopes that, one time or other, I might find an opportunity to make my escape from this place, and that this poor savage might be a means to help me to do it.

 During the long time that Friday had now been with me, and that he began to speak to me, and understand me, I was not wanting to lay a foundation of religious knowledge in his mind;

particularly I asked him one time, Who made him?

The poor creature did not understand me at all, but thought I had asked who was his father.

But I took it by another handle, and asked him who made the sea, the ground we walked on, and the hills and woods?

He told me it was one old Benamuckee, that lived beyond all.

He could describe nothing of this great person, but that he was very old, much older, he said, than the sea or the land, than the moon or the stars.

I asked him then, if this old person had made all things, why did not all things worship him?

He looked very grave, and with a perfect look of innocence said, “All things do say O to him.”

I asked him if the people who die in his country went away anywhere?

He said, “Yes, they all went to Benamuckee.”

Then I asked him whether these they ate up went thither too?

He said “Yes.”

 From these things I began to instruct him in the knowledge of the true God.

I told him that the great Maker of all things lived up there, pointing up towards heaven;

that He governs the world by the same power and providence by which He made it;

that He was omnipotent, could do everything for us, give everything to us, take everything from us;

and thus, by degrees, I opened his eyes.

He listened with great attention, and received with pleasure the notion of Jesus Christ being sent to redeem us, and of the manner of making our prayers to God, and His being able to hear us, even into heaven.

He told me one day that if our God could hear us up beyond the sun,

He must needs be a greater God than their Benamuckee, who lived but a little way off, and yet could not hear till they went up to the great mountains where he dwelt to speak to him.

I asked him if he ever went thither to speak to him?

He said, No; they never went that were young men;

none went thither but the old men, whom he called their Oowokakee, that is, as I made him explain it to me, their religious, or clergy;

and that they went to say O (so he called saying prayers), and then came back, and told them what Benamuckee said.

But this I observed that there is priestcraft even amongst the most blinded, ignorant pagans in the world;

and the policy of making a secret religion in order to preserve the veneration of the people to the clergy is not only to be found in the Roman, but perhaps among all religions in the world, even among the most brutish and barbarous savages.

 I endeavored to clear up this fraud to my man Friday, and told him that the pretense of their old men going up to the mountains to say O to their god Benamuckee was a cheat, and their bringing word from thence what he said was much more so;

that if they met with any answer, or spoke with any one there, it must be with an evil spirit;

and then I entered into a long discourse with him about the devil, the original of him, his rebellion against God, his enmity to man, the reason of it, his setting himself up in the dark parts of the world to be worshipped instead of God, and as God, and the many stratagems he made use of to delude mankind to their ruin;

how he had a secret access to our passions and to our affections, to adapt his snares so to our inclinations, as to cause us even to be our own tempters, and to run upon our destruction by our own choice.

 I found it was not so easy to imprint right notions in his mind about the devil, as it was about the being of a God.

Nature assisted all my arguments to evidence to him even the necessity of a great First Cause and overruling, governing Power, a secret directing Providence, and of the equity and justice of paying homage to Him that made us, and the like.

 But there appeared nothing of all this in the notion of an evil spirit;

of his original, his being, his nature, and above all, of his inclination to do evil, and to draw us in to do so too;

and the poor creature puzzled me once in such a manner by a question merely natural and innocent, that I scarce knew what to say to him.

I had been talking a great deal to him of the power of God, His omnipotence, His dreadful aversion to sin, His being a consuming fire to the workers of iniquity;

how, as He had made us all, He could destroy us and all the world in a moment;

and he listened with great seriousness to me all the while.

 After this I had been telling him how the devil was God’s enemy in the hearts of men, and used all his malice and skill to defeat the good designs of Providence, and to ruin the kingdom of Christ in the world, and the like.

“Well,” says Friday, “but you say God is so strong, so great;

is He no much strong, much might as the devil?”

“Yes, yes,” says I, “Friday, God is stronger than the devil;

God is above the devil, and therefore we pray to God to tread him down under our feet, and enable us to resist his temptation, and quench his fiery darts.”

“But,” says he again, “if God much strong, much might as the devil, why God no kill the devil, so make him no more do wicked?”

 I was strangely surprised at his question;

and after all, though I was now an old man, yet I was but a young doctor, and ill enough qualified for a casuist, or a solver of difficulties;

and at first I could not tell what to say;

so I pretended not to hear him, and asked him what he said?

But he was too earnest for an answer to forget his question, so that he repeated it in the very same broken words as above.

By this time I had recovered myself a little, and I said, “God will at last punish him severely;

he is reserved for the judgment, and is to be cast into the bottomless pit, to dwell with everlasting fire.”

This did not satisfy Friday; but he returned upon me, repeating my words “Reserve at last!

me no understand; but why not kill the devil now?

not kill great ago?”

“You may as well ask me,” said I, “why God does not kill you and I, when we do wicked things here that offend Him; we are preserved to repent and be pardoned.”

He muses awhile at this.

“Well, well,” says he, mighty affectionately, “that well; so you, I, devil, all wicked, all preserve, repent, God pardon all.”

Here I was run down again by him to the last degree, and it was a testimony to me how the mere notions of nature, though they will guide reasonable creatures to the knowledge of a God, and of a worship or homage due to the supreme being of God, as the consequence of our nature, yet nothing but Divine revelation can form the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and of a redemption purchased for us, of a Mediator of the new covenant, and of an Intercessor at the footstool of God’s throne;

I say, nothing but a revelation from heaven can form these in the soul, and that therefore the Gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I mean the Word of God, and the Spirit of God, promised for the guide and sanctifier of His people, are the absolutely necessary instructors of the souls of men in the saving knowledge of God, and the means of salvation.

 I therefore diverted the present discourse between me and my man, rising up hastily, as upon some sudden occasion of going out;

then sending him for something a good way off, I seriously prayed to God that He would enable me to instruct savingly this poor savage, assisting, by His Spirit, the heart of the poor ignorant creature to receive the light of the knowledge of God in Christ, reconciling him to Himself, and would guide me to speak so to him from the Word of God as his conscience might be convinced, his eyes opened, and his soul saved.

When he came again to me, I entered into a long discourse with him upon the subject of the redemption of man by the Savior of the world, and of the doctrine of the Gospel preached from heaven, viz., of repentance towards God, and faith in our blessed Lord Jesus.

I then explained to him as well as I could why our blessed Redeemer took not on Him the nature of angels, but the seed of Abraham; and how, for that reason, the fallen angels had no share in the redemption;

that He came only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, and the like.

 I had, God knows, more sincerity than knowledge in all the methods I took for this poor creature’s instruction, and must acknowledge, what I believe all that act upon the same principle will find, that in laying things open to him, I really informed and instructed myself in many things that either I did not know, or had not fully considered before, but which occurred naturally to my mind upon my searching into them for the information of this poor savage.

And I had more affection in my inquiry after things upon this occasion than ever I felt before;

so that whether this poor wild wretch was the better for me or no, I had great reason to be thankful that ever he came to me.

My grief set lighter upon me, my habitation grew comfortable to me beyond measure;

and when I reflected, that in this solitary life which I had been confined to, I had not only been moved myself to look up to heaven, and to seek to the Hand that had brought me there, but was now to be made an instrument, under Providence, to save the life, and, for aught I know, the soul of a poor savage, and bring him to the true knowledge of religion, and of the Christian doctrine, that he might know Christ Jesus, to know whom is life eternal;--I say, when I reflected upon all these things, a secret joy ran through every part of my soul, and I frequently rejoiced that ever I was brought to this place, which I had so often thought the most dreadful of all afflictions that could possibly have befallen me.

 In this thankful frame I continued all the remainder of my time, and the conversation which employed the hours between Friday and me was such, as made the three years which we lived there together perfectly and completely happy, if any such thing as complete happiness can be formed in a sublunary state.

The savage was now a good Christian, a much better than I; though I have reason to hope, and bless God for it, that we were equally penitent, and comforted, restored penitents.

We had here the Word of God to read, and no farther off from His Spirit to instruct than if we had been in England.

 I always applied myself to reading the Scripture, to let him know, as well as I could, the meaning of what I read;

and he again, by his serious inquiries and questions, made me, as I said before, a much better scholar in the Scripture-knowledge than I should ever have been by my own private mere reading.

Another thing I cannot refrain from observing here also, from experience in this retired part of my life, viz., how infinite and inexpressible a blessing it is that the knowledge of God, and of the doctrine of salvation by Christ Jesus, is so plainly laid down in the Word of God, so easy to be received and understood;

that as the bare reading the Scripture made me capable of understanding enough of my duty to carry me directly on to the great work of repentance for my sins, and laying hold of a Savior for life and salvation, to a stated reformation in practice, and obedience to all God’s commands, and this without any teacher or instructor (I mean human); so the same plain instruction sufficiently served to the enlightening this savage creature, and bringing him to be such a Christian, as I have known few equal to him in my life.

 As to all the disputes, wranglings, strife, and contention which has happened in the world about religion, whether niceties in doctrines, or schemes of Church government, they were all perfectly useless to us;

as, for aught I can yet see, they have been to all the rest in the world.

We had the sure guide to heaven, viz., the Word of God; and we had, blessed be God, comfortable views of the Spirit of God teaching and instructing us by His Word, leading us into all truth, and making us both willing and obedient to the instruction of His Word; and I cannot see the least use that the greatest knowledge of the disputed points in religion, which have made such confusions in the world would have been to us if we could have obtained it.

But I must go on with the historical part of things and take every part in its order.