Mercy, so picturesquely framed in high rocks, the glade and the corral, with spurs of the mountain in the background, the curious development of Claw Cape, Flotsam Point, etc. Nor did the photographers forget to take the portrait of every inhabitant of the island, leaving out no one. "It multiplies us," said Pencroft.
The sailor was enchanted to see his own countenance, faithfully reproduced, ornamenting the walls of Granite House, and he stopped as willingly before this exhibition as he would have done before the richest shop-windows in Broadway. But it must be acknowledged that the most successful portrait was incontestably that of Master Jup. Master Jup had sat with a gravity not to be described, and his portrait was lifelike!
"He looks as if he was just going to grin!" exclaimed Pencroft.
And if Master Jup had not been satisfied, he would have been very difficult to please; but he was quite contented, and contemplated his own countenance with a sentimental air which expressed some small amount of conceit.
The summer heat ended with the month of March. The weather was sometimes rainy, but still warm. The month of March, which corresponds to the September of northern latitudes, was not so fine as might have been hoped. Perhaps it announced an early and rigorous winter.
It might have been supposed one morning―the 21st―that the first snow had made its appearance. Herbert, looking early from one of the windows of Granite House, exclaimed, "Hallo! the islet is covered with snow!"
"Snow at this time?" asked the reporter, joining the boy.
Their companions were soon beside them, but could only ascertain one thing, that not only the islet, but all the beach below Granite House, was covered with one uniform sheet of white. "It must be snow!" said Pencroft.
"Or rather it's very like it!" replied Neb.
"But the thermometer marks fifty-eight degrees!" observed Gideon Spilett.
Cyrus Harding gazed at the sheet of white without saying anything, for he really did not know how to explain this phenomenon, at this time of year.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Pencroft; "all our plants will
