Only one privation still distressed the colonists. Azotic food they had in plenty, and the vegetables which corrected it; from the ligneous roots of the dragon-trees, submitted to fermentation, they obtained a sort of acidulated beer. They had even made sugar, without sugar-cane or beet-root, by collecting the juice which distills from the “acer saccharinum,” a sort of maple which flourishes in all parts of the temperate zone, and which abounded on the island. They made a very pleasant tea from the plant brought from the warren; and, finally, they had plenty of salt, the only mineral component necessary to food—but bread was still to seek. Perhaps, at some future time, they would have been able to replace this aliment by some equivalent, sago flour, or the breadfruit tree, which they might possibly have discovered in the woods of the southwest; but so far they had not met with them. Just at this time a little incident occurred which brought about what Smith, with all his ingenuity, could not have achieved. One rainy day the colonists were together in the large hall of Granite House, when Herbert suddenly cried, “See, Mr. Smith, a grain of corn.” And he showed his companions a single gram which had got into the lining of his waistcoat through a hole in his pocket. Pencroff had given him some ring-doves in Richmond, and in feeding them one of the grains had remained in his pocket. “A grain of corn?” said the engineer, quickly. “Yes, sir; but only one.” “That’s a wonderful help,” said Pencroff, laughing. “The bread that grain will make will never choke us.” Herbert was about to throw away the grain, when Cyrus Smith took it, examined it, found that it was in good condition, and said quietly to the sailor:— “Pencroff, do you know how many ears of corn will spring from one grain?” “One, I suppose,” said the sailor, surprised at the question. “Ten, Pencroff. And how many grains are there to an ear?” “Faith, I don’t know.” “Eighty on an average,” said Smith. “So then, if we plant this grain, we shall get from it a harvest of 800 grains; from them in the second year 640,000; in the third, 512,000,000; in the fourth, more than 400,000,000,000. That is the proportion.” His companions listened in silence. The figures stupefied them. “Yes, my friend,” resumed the engineer. “Such is the increase of Nature. And what is even this multiplication of a grain of corn whose ears have only 800 grains, compared with the poppy plant, which has 32,000 seeds, or the tobacco plant, which has 360,000? In a few years, but for the numerous enemies which destroy them, these plants would cover the earth. And now, Pencroff,” he resumed, “do you know how many bushels there are in 400,000,000,000 grains?” “No,” answered the sailor, “I only know that I am an idiot!” “Well, there will be more than 3,000,000, at 130,000 the bushel!” “Three millions!” cried Pencroff. “Three millions.” “In four years?”