journey, resolving that, in our future excursions
into the interior, we would be careful to avoid this dangerous
precipice.

Soon afterwards we arrived at the foot of the hill, and prepared to
ascend it. Here Jack made a discovery which caused us all very great
joy. This was a tree of a remarkably beautiful appearance, which Jack
confidently declared to be the celebrated bread-fruit tree.

"Is it celebrated?" inquired Peterkin with a look of great simplicity.

"It is," replied Jack.

"That's odd, now," rejoined Peterkin; "I never heard of it before."

"Then it's not so celebrated as I thought it was," returned Jack,
quietly squeezing Peterkin's hat over his eyes; "but listen, you
ignorant boobie! and hear of it now."

Peterkin readjusted his hat, and was soon listening with as much
interest as myself while Jack told us that this tree is one of the most
valuable in the islands of the south; that it bears two, sometimes
three, crops of fruit in the year; that the fruit is very like wheaten
bread in appearance, and that it constitutes the principal food of many
of the islanders.

"So," said Peterkin, "we seem to have everything ready prepared to our
hands in this wonderful island--lemonade ready bottled in nuts, and
loaf-bread growing on the trees!"

Peterkin, as usual, was jesting; nevertheless, it is a curious fact that
he spoke almost the literal truth.

"Moreover," continued Jack, "the bread-fruit tree affords a capital gum,
which serves the natives for pitching their canoes; the bark of the
young branches is made by them into cloth; and of the wood, which is
durable and of a good colour, they build their houses. So you see,
lads, that we have no lack of material here to make us comfortable, if
we are only clever enough to use it."

"But are you sure that that's it?" asked Peterkin.

"Quite sure," replied Jack; "for I was particularly interested in the
account I once read of it, and I remember the description well. I am
sorry, however that I have forgotten the descriptions of many other
trees which I am sure we have seen to-day, if we could but recognise
them. So you see, Peterkin, I'm not up to everything yet."

"Never mind, Jack," said Peterkin with a grave, patronising expression
of countenance, patting his tall companion on the shoulder--"never mind,
Jack; you know a good deal for your age. You're a clever boy, sir--a
promising young man; and if you only go on as you have begun, sir, you
will--