rd to a familiar fruit. I was under the impression that
cocoanuts grew on their trees in the same form as that in which they are
usually presented to us in grocers' windows--namely, about the size of a
large fist with three spots at one end. Learning from trustworthy books
that at a certain stage of development the nut contains a delicious
beverage like lemonade, I sent one of my heroes up a tree for a nut,
through the shell of which he bored a hole with a penknife. It was not
till long after the story was published that my own brother--who had
voyaged in Southern seas--wrote to draw my attention to the fact that
the cocoanut is nearly as large as a man's head, and its outer husk is
over an inch thick, so that no ordinary penknife could bore to its
interior! Of course I should have known this, and, perhaps, should be
ashamed of my ignorance, but, somehow, I'm not!

I admit that this was a slip, but such, and other slips, hardly justify
the remark that some people have not hesitated to make, namely, that I
have a tendency to draw the long bow. I feel almost sensitive on this
point, for I have always laboured to be true to nature and to fact even
in my wildest flights of fancy.

This reminds me of the remark made to myself once by a lady in reference
to this same "Coral Island." "There is one thing, Mr. Ballantyne," she
said, "which I really find it hard to believe. You make one of your
three boys dive into a clear pool, go to the bottom, and then, turning
on his back, look up and wink and laugh at the other two."

[Illustration: TROPHIES FROM MR. BALLANTYNE'S TRAVELS.]

"No, no, not '_laugh_,'" said I, remonstratively.

"Well, then, you make him smile."

"Ah, that is true, but there is a vast difference between laughing and
smiling under water. But is it not singular that you should doubt the
only incident in the story which I personally verified? I happened to be
in lodgings at the seaside while writing that story, and, after penning
the passage you refer to, I went down to the shore, pulled off my
clothes, dived to the bottom, turned on my back, and, looking up, I
smiled and winked."

The lady laughed, but I have never been quite sure, from the tone of
that laugh, whether it was a laugh of conviction or of unbelief. It is
not improbable that my fair friend's mental constitution may have been
somewhat similar to that of the old woman who declined to believe her
sailor-grandson when he told her he had seen flying-