ght they gaze and gaze again in surprise and in excessive
admiration; and well might Barney O'Flannagan--under the circumstances,
with such sights and sounds around him, and the delightful odours of
myrtle trees and orange blossoms and the Cape jessamine stealing up his
nostrils--deem himself the tenant of another world, and evince his
conviction of the fact in that memorable expression--"I've woked in
paradise!"

But Barney began to find "paradise" not quite so comfortable as it ought
to be; for when he tried to get up he found his bones pained and stiff
from sleeping in damp clothes; and moreover, his face was very much
swelled, owing to the myriads of mosquitoes which had supped of it
during the night.

"Arrah, then, _won't_ ye be done!" he cried, angrily, giving his face a
slap that killed at least two or three hundred of his tormentors. But
thousands more attacked him instantly, and he soon found out,--what
every one finds out sooner or later in hot climates,--that _patience_ is
one of the best remedies for mosquito bites. He also discovered shortly
afterwards that smoke is not a bad remedy, in connection with patience.

"What are we to have for breakfast, Barney!" inquired Martin as he rose
and yawned and stretched his limbs.

"Help yersilf to what ye plase," said Barney, with a polite bow, waving
his hand round him, as if the forest were his private property and
Martin Rattler his honoured guest.

"Well, I vote for oranges," said Martin, going towards a tree which was
laden with ripe fruit.

"An' I'll try plums, by way of variety," added his companion.

In a few minutes several kinds of fruit and nuts were gathered and
spread at the foot of the tree under which they had reposed. Then
Barney proceeded to kindle a fire,--not that he had anything to cook,
but he said it looked sociable-like, and the smoke would keep off the
flies. The operation, however, was by no means easy. Everything had
been soaked by the rain of the previous night, and a bit of dry grass
could scarcely be found. At length he procured a little; and by rubbing
it in the damp gunpowder which he had extracted from his pistol, and
drying it in the sun, he formed a sort of tinder that caught fire after
much persevering effort.

Some of the fruits they found to be good,--others bad. The good they
ate,--the bad they threw away. After their frugal fare they felt much
refreshed, and then began to talk of what they should do.

"We can't