The difficult march was at length over, and we emerged from the forest upon a large plain covered with curious little bushes; the branches of these little shrubs and the ground about them were covered with pure white flakes.
“Snow! snow!” exclaimed Franz. “Oh, mother, come down from the cart and play snowballs. This is jolly; much better than the ugly rain.”
I was not surprised at the boy's mistake, for indeed the flakes did look like snow; but before I could express my opinion, Fritz declared that the plant must be a kind of dwarf cotton-tree. We approached nearer and found he was right—soft fine wool enclosed in pods, and still hanging on the bushes or lying on the ground, abounded in every direction. We had indeed discovered this valuable plant. The mother was charmed; and gathering a great quantity in three capacious bags, we resumed our journey.
Crossing the cotton-field, we ascended a pretty wooded hill. The view from the summit was glorious: luxuriant grass at our feet stretching down the hill-side, dotted here and there with shady trees, among which gushed down a sparkling brook, while below lay the rich green forest, with the sea beyond.
What better situation could we hope to find for our new farm? Pasture, water, shade, and shelter, all were here.
We pitched our tent, built our fireplace, and, leaving the mother to prepare our repast, Fritz and I selected a spot for the erection of our shed. We soon found a group of trees so situated that the trunks would serve as posts for our intended building. Thither we carried all our tools, and then, as the day was far advanced, enjoyed our supper, and lay down upon most comfortable beds which the mother had prepared for us with the cotton.
The group of trees we had selected was exactly suited to our purpose, for it formed a regular rectilinear figure, the greatest side of which faced the sea. I cut deep mortices in the trunks about
