“Well done, my lad! when did you find it?”
“He found a bed of clay near the river this morning,” said his mother, “and came home in such a mess, I had regularly to scrape his clothes and wash him thoroughly!”
“Well, mother, I can only tell you I should never in all my days have found the clay, if I had not slipped and fallen amongst it.”
“That I can well believe,” returned his mother; “only, to hear your talk this morning, one would have thought your discovery of clay the result of very arduous search indeed.”
“When you have ended the question of the clay and the turtle-shell,” said Ernest, “I should like to show you some roots I found to-day; they are getting rather dry now. They look something like radishes, although the plant itself was almost a bush; but I have not ventured to taste them, although our old sow was devouring them at a great rate.”
“In that you did wisely, my boy. Swine eat many things injurious to men. Let me see your roots. How did you discover them?”
“I was rambling in the wood this morning, and came upon the sow, very busy grubbing under a small bush, and eating something ravenously; so I drove her away, and found a number of these roots, which I brought for you to see.”
“Indeed, Ernest,” I exclaimed, after taking the roots in my hand and considering them attentively, “I am inclined to believe that you have really made a brilliant discovery! If this proves to be, as I expect, the manioc root, we might loose every other eatable we possess, and yet not starve. In the West Indies, cakes called cassava bread are made from it; and, already having potatoes, we shall be very independent if we can succeed in preparing flour from these roots. Great care must be taken in the manufacture to express the juice, otherwise the flour may be injurious and even poisonous.
