Every thirtieth notch was longer and broader
It was thus I made my calendar
One morning I found, on counting up
I sat in my castle and thought of the goodness of God in thus keeping me alive
I humbled myself
For twelve hours I tasted nothing
Having now been on the island a whole year
They were not to be spoken of as spring, summer, autumn, and winter
year [ˈjǝ:], since [sɪns], account [ǝˈkaunt], wreck [rek], neither [ˈnaɪðǝ], almanac [ˈɔ:lmǝnæk], full [ful], month [mʌnƟ], therefore [ˈðeǝfɔ:], solemn [ˈsɔlǝm], peril [ˈperɪl], autumn [ˈɔ:tǝm]
IT was now just one year since I was cast upon this lonely island. Do you wonder how I have kept an account of the time? I will tell you.
A few days after the ship wreck it came into my mind that I should lose track of the days and the seasons. For I had neither almanac nor notebook. It would be hard always to remember the days of the week and I might even forget when it was Sunday.
So I set up a large post by my door. At the top of this post I cut in large letters these words:
I CAME ON SHORE HERE
SEPTEMBER 30, 1659.
Every morning I cut a little notch on the side of the post under these words.
Every seventh notch was twice as long as the rest, and this showed me that the day was Sunday.
Every thirtieth notch was longer still and broader. This showed me that a full month had gone by.
It was thus I made my calendar.
One morning I found, on counting up, that there were three hundred and sixty-five notches on the post. I knew, therefore, that it was just one year since my landing.
I kept this day as a solemn fast.