ame
rock, during many a day afterwards, we spread out the bountiful supply
with which we had been blessed on our Coral Island. Sometimes we sat
down at this table to a feast consisting of hot rolls,--as Peterkin
called the newly baked bread fruit,--a roast pig, roast duck, boiled and
roasted yams, cocoa nuts, taro, and sweet potatoes; which we followed up
with a dessert of plums, apples, and plantains,--the last being a large-
sized and delightful fruit, which grew on a large shrub or tree not more
than twelve feet high, with light-green leaves of enormous length and
breadth. These luxurious feasts were usually washed down with cocoa-nut
lemonade.

Occasionally Peterkin tried to devise some new dish,--"a conglomerate,"
as he used to say; but these generally turned out such atrocious
compounds that he was ultimately induced to give up his attempts in
extreme disgust. Not forgetting, however, to point out to Jack that his
failure was a direct contradiction to the proverb which he, Jack, was
constantly thrusting down his throat, namely, that "where there's a will
there's a way." For he had a great will to become a cook, but could by
no means find a way to accomplish that end.

One day, while Peterkin and I were seated beside our table on which
dinner was spread, Jack came up from the beach, and, flinging down his
axe, exclaimed,--

"There, lads, the boat's finished at last! so we've nothing to do now but
shape two pair of oars, and then we may put to sea as soon as we like."

This piece of news threw us into a state of great joy; for although we
were aware that the boat had been gradually getting near its completion,
it had taken so long that we did not expect it to be quite ready for at
least two or three weeks. But Jack had wrought hard and said nothing, in
order to surprise us.

"My dear fellow," cried Peterkin, "you're a perfect trump. But why did
you not tell us it was so nearly ready? won't we have a jolly sail to-
morrow? eh?"

"Don't talk so much, Peterkin," said Jack; "and, pray, hand me a bit of
that pig."

"Certainly, my dear," cried Peterkin, seizing the axe; "what part will
you have? a leg, or a wing, or a piece of the breast; which?"

"A hind leg, if you please," answered Jack; "and, pray, be so good as to
include the tail."

"With all my heart," said Peterkin, exchanging the axe for his hoop-iron
knife, with which he cut off the desired portion. "I'm only too glad, my
dear boy, to see that