it and send it to you in the form of a
book, would it not be as good and useful as ever?"

"Oh, bother! Jack, you're a philosopher, and that's worse than
anything!" cried Peterkin with a look of pretended horror.

"Very well, Peterkin, we shall see," returned Jack, halting under the
shade of a cocoa-nut tree. "You said you were thirsty just a minute
ago. Now jump up that tree and bring down a nut--not a ripe one; bring
a green, unripe one."

Peterkin looked surprised, but seeing that Jack was in earnest, he
obeyed.

"Now cut a hole in it with your penknife and clap it to your mouth, old
fellow," said Jack.

Peterkin did as he was directed, and we both burst into uncontrollable
laughter at the changes that instantly passed over his expressive
countenance. No sooner had he put the nut to his mouth, and thrown back
his head in order to catch what came out of it, than his eyes opened to
twice their ordinary size with astonishment, while his throat moved
vigorously in the act of swallowing. Then a smile and a look of intense
delight overspread his face, except, indeed, the mouth, which, being
firmly fixed to the hole in the nut, could not take part in the
expression; but he endeavoured to make up for this by winking at us
excessively with his right eye. At length he stopped, and drawing a
long breath, exclaimed:

"Nectar! perfect nectar!--I say, Jack, you're a Briton--the best fellow
I ever met in my life--Only taste that!" said he, turning to me and
holding the nut to my mouth. I immediately drank, and certainly I was
much surprised at the delightful liquid that flowed copiously down my
throat. It was extremely cool, and had a sweet taste, mingled with
acid; in fact, it was the likest thing to lemonade I ever tasted, and
was most grateful and refreshing. I handed the nut to Jack, who, after
tasting it, said, "Now, Peterkin, you unbeliever! I never saw or tasted
a cocoa-nut in my life before, except those sold in shops at home; but I
once read that the green nuts contain that stuff; and you see it is
true."

"And, pray," asked Peterkin, "what sort of `stuff' does the ripe nut
contain?"

"A hollow kernel," answered Jack, "with a liquid like milk in it; but it
does not satisfy thirst so well as hunger. It is very wholesome food, I
believe."

"Meat and drink on the same tree!" cried Peterkin; "washing in the sea,
lodging on the ground--and all for nothing! My dear boys, we're set up
for life! It must b