plendid fruit of this
noblest and most stately tree of the tropics. The ripe and the unripe
fruit hung side by side from the same branches, and Johnny could hardly
be persuaded to postpone gathering a supply of it until our return. Our
course had been upon the whole rather an ascending one, so that this
grove must have occupied an elevated situation. The ground over which
it extended was nearly level, with slight wave-like undulations. As we
approached its eastern limit, Max told us to prepare ourselves for the
most charming spectacle that we had ever beheld. He walked on before
with the air of a cicerone when about to exhibit a _chef d'oeuvre_, and
stood waiting and beckoning for us at the border of the grove. On
joining him we found that he had scarcely exaggerated in his
descriptions of the spot.

We stood at the top of a smooth and gradual descent. Before us lay a
secluded valley, from which the land rose on every side, to about the
elevation of the grove behind us. In some places it ascended in gentle
slopes, in others by abrupt acclivities. In the bosom of the valley
spread a little lake of oval form, fringed in some places with
shrubbery, while in others, groups of casuarinas extended their long
drooping boughs in graceful arches over the water. After pausing a
moment we descended to the margin of the pond, which was so limpid that
we could distinguish every pebble at the bottom. At the upper or
northern end, and near the point at which we had come out of the grove,
a small stream precipitated itself some fifteen feet down a rocky
declivity, and fell into a circular basin a few yards in diameter.
Overflowing this basin, it found its way into the lake by another
descent of a few feet. Around the basin, and on both sides of the
waterfall, were several curious columns of basalt, and irregular
picturesque piles of basaltic rock. The plash of the water, falling
into the rocky basin, was the only sound that broke the Sabbath-like
silence that pervaded the valley. There was, or seemed to be, something
unreal and dream-like about the scene, that made us pause where we
stood, in silence, as though the whole were an illusion, which a word or
a motion would dispel.

"How beautiful!" exclaimed Browne, at last, and a soft clear echo, like
the voice of the tutelary spirit of the valley, answered, "Beautiful!"

"Hark!" cried Johnny, "what a charming echo. Listen again," and he
shouted "Hurrah!"

"Hurrah!" so