"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 inclosed 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 hillside, 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 ten feet from the ground, and again ten feet higher up to form a second story. In these mortices I inserted beams, thus forming a framework for my building, and then, making a roof of laths, I overlaid it with bark, which I stripped from a neighboring tree, and fixed with acacia thorns, and which would effectually shoot off any amount of rain. While clearing up the scraps of bark and other rubbish for fuel for our fire, I noticed a peculiar smell, and stooping down I picked up pieces of the bark, some of which, to my great surprise, I found was that of the terebinth tree, and the rest that of the American fir. The goats, too, made an important discovery among the same heap, for we found them busily rooting out pieces of cinnamon, a most delicious and aromatic spice.