aly bark, which bore leaves streaked with little parallel veins.

"And what is this tree which resembles a little palm?" asked Harding.

"It is a 'cycas revoluta,' of which I have a picture in our dictionary
of Natural History!" said Herbert.

"But I can't see any fruit on this shrub!" observed his companion.

"No, captain," replied Herbert; "but its stem contains a flour with
which nature has provided us all ready ground."

"It is, then, the bread-tree?"

"Yes, the bread-tree."

"Well, my boy," replied the engineer, "this is a valuable discovery,
since our wheat harvest is not yet ripe; I hope that you are not
mistaken!"

Herbert was not mistaken: he broke the stem of a cycas, which was
composed of a glandulous tissue, containing a quantity of floury pith,
traversed with woody fiber, separated by rings of the same substance,
arranged concentrically. With this fecula was mingled a mucilaginous
juice of disagreeable flavor, but which it would be easy to get rid of
by pressure. This cellular substance was regular flour of a superior
quality, extremely nourishing; its exportation was formerly forbidden by
the Japanese laws.

Cyrus Harding and Herbert, after having examined that part of the Far
West where the cycas grew, took their bearings, and returned to Granite
House, where they made known their discovery.

The next day the settlers went to collect some, and returned to Granite
House with an ample supply of cycas stems. The engineer constructed a
press, with which to extract the mucilaginous juice mingled with the
fecula, and he obtained a large quantity of flour, which Neb soon
transformed into cakes and puddings. This was not quite real wheaten
bread, but it was very like it.

Now, too, the onager, the goats, and the sheep in the corral furnished
daily the milk necessary to the colony. The cart, or rather a sort of
light carriole which had replaced it, made frequent journeys to the
corral, and when it was Pencroft's turn to go he took Jup, and let him
drive, and Jup, cracking his whip, acquitted himself with his customary
intelligence.

Everything prospered, as well in the corral as in Granite House, and
certainly the settlers, if it had not been that they were so far from
their native land, had no reason to complain. They were so well suited
to this life, and were, besides, so accustomed to the island, that they
could not have left its hospitable soil without regret!

And yet so deeply is the love of