Returning my attention to Roban, she resumes her coaching. “Cities too sprang up. We will stop now and get some of the luscious fruit,” as the car-barge slows and draws up to an orchard station. We who have listened spellbound to explanation are getting over our paralysis, and are the first to jump on land. Saucy running crazy is soon lost to view. We dart hither and thither with delight, pulling mangoes, decking ourselves with orchids, mimicking songsters. I wonder no more where they get their conservatory plants. When a bell calls us to dinner. In a bower, vine surrounded and bird enlivened, we draw up to board, not a board, either—none, or saws to make them are in the land, it is a great lily leaf, hardened and enameled. Indentations serve for places. The food, on small leaf trays, arises from the table center dummy like. It is in mouthful-size pastry cups (that makes me think of home tarts), blending grain food with other kinds. Raised with the fingers, nothing can be neater. The seats are leaves. Springs raise us smaller people to a level with the rest. I observe greatly rejuvenated looks in us and say to Charley: “Do you see we are getting younger?” He stops picking a pomegranate. “Certainly. It is the purity of the atmosphere. Have you noticed, my dear, that there has been no dust since our arrival? And, tho’ the sun is constantly shining, no one carries a shade or is overheated. Ah, this is the Country to live in!” Smacking his lips before starting in again on the fruit. “Glorious Arc!” I can not say it enough! None other place like thee on earth in gorgeous marvels! Nearest to God above! I could climb a Pole to see Him, hadst thou one! I look around to see the climatic effect upon my aged father; but he is not here. I remember he may be yet on the Traveler’s shoulder for farther travel. This somewhat modifies my charm—for a short time only, then I give way like the rest to the fulness of this Inning Reception. As bright tints float around in the air, on the water, and foliage, I wonder what pencil but God’s could put them there. As we return to the barge Saucy at my elbow grasps my sleeve, saying, “Auntie, did you see the team that draws the barge? If you did not, look this time, now.” What?—what? Crocodiles? I stagger back, then renerve myself, reassured that what I had always supposed so hideously untamable could be well broke, kept well in hand, presenting an innocent pair of open countenances. “How odd the water is Auntie,” says Mae, when we are calmly seated. She is looking over the side, then rises and crosses to the other. “It is high up on one side and low down on the other.” Robet speaks without looking up, her eyes intent on her nephew, leaning moodily on the railing. “The river flows sideways.” “How—how can it?” “It melts on its inward side, freezing on its outward again.” “Making ice for cool drinks,” says the child.