e skin of the tree on the other side, Don Pablo pulled by the rope,
and with a loud tear and a crash, and a vast deal of crackling among
the branches, the great bombax settled into a horizontal position across
the chasm. The bridge was built.

After all, it was no slight adventure to cross it. The rounded trunk was
anything but sure footing, and even had it been a flat plank, the depth
of the chasm--nearly an hundred feet clear--and the white roaring
torrent below, were enough to shake the stoutest nerves. All, however,
got over in safety, and proceeded up to the palm-woods. I say all--but I
mean only the male population of the new settlement. Dona Isidora and
the little Leona remained by the camp, both of them busy scraping
_yucca_ roots, to be manufactured into cassava, and then into bread.

On arriving among the palm-trees, Don Pablo was struck with a singular
fact. He observed (indeed, he had already noticed as much from the
opposite side of the river) that instead of one species of palm, there
were not less than a dozen kinds growing in this wood. This was a very
unusual circumstance, as although two or three species are often found
together, such a varied collection as were there could only have been
made by human hands. Here, again, was recognised the work of the
missionary monk, who had no doubt planted most of the species, having
received them very likely from many distant stations of his
fellow-labourers in other parts of the Amazon valley.

Whether Franciscan, Jesuit, or Dominican (for all three have had their
missions in this part of the world), the holy father who resided here,
thought Don Pablo, must have been an ardent horticulturist. Whether or
not he converted many Indians to his faith, he seemed to have exerted
himself to provide for their temporal necessities, for there was hardly
a useful plant or tree suitable to the climate that was not to be found
growing near the spot. Such were the reflections of Don Pablo.

"What a variety of beautiful palms!" said he, looking around upon these
by far the fairest forms of the vegetable creation.

Now, my boy reader, I have not the slightest doubt but that you, too,
think the palms the fairest forms of the vegetable creation. I have not
the shadow of a doubt that your heart beats joyfully at the very word
"palm;" that you love to gaze at one of the stately trees, and that you
would give all your pocket-money for an afternoon's ramble through a
real palm-wood