hey were penetrated, and which in that luxurious clime, put
out their feelers in every direction, and gathered to their embrace
whatever of nutriment and support the richly impregnated waters
afforded. In the process of a few years accumulation, the floating mass
increased in length, breadth and thickness, till it became an island,
capable of sustaining not only shrubs and trees, but sometimes a human
habitation. Some of these were from two to three hundred feet square,
and could be moved about at pleasure, like a raft, from city to city,
along the borders of the lake. The natives, who were skilful gardeners,
and passionately devoted to the cultivation of flowers, improved upon
this beautiful hint of nature, to enlarge their means of supplying the
capital with fruits, vegetables and flowers. Constructing small rafts of
reeds, anchoring them out in the lake, and then covering them with the
sediment drawn up from the bottom, they soon found them covered with a
thrifty vegetation, and a vigorous soil, from which they were able to
produce a large supply of the various luxuries of their highly favored
clime.

It was to one of these fairy gardens that the beautiful Karee retired,
rich in the priceless jewel of freedom, and feeling that a chinampa all
her own, and flowers to train and commune with, was the summit of human
desire. Karee was no common character. Gifted by nature with unusual
talents, she had, though in adverse circumstances, cultivated them by
all the means in her power. Remarkably quick of perception, and shrewd
and accurate of observation, with a memory that retained every thing
that was committed to it, in its exact outlines and proportions, she
was enabled to gather materials for improvement from every scene through
which she passed. Her imagination was exceedingly powerful and active,
sometimes wild and terrific, but kept in balance by a sound judgment and
a discriminating taste. Her love of flowers was a passion, a part of her
nature. For her they had a language, if not a soul. And there was not
one of all the endless varieties of that luxuriant clime, that had not a
definite and emphatic place in the vocabulary of her fancy. The history
of her life she could have written in her floral dialect, and to her,
though its lines might have faded rapidly, its pages would have been
always legible and eloquent. Her attachments were strong and enduring,
and there was that element of heroism in her soul, that she woul