discoveries in botany. There was, in profusion, vegetation of all
heights, the existence of which in the tropical forests of the New
World had not been yet ascertained. Cousin Benedict would certainly
have attached his name to some discovery of this kind. But he did not
like botany--he knew nothing about it. He even, quite naturally, held
flowers in aversion, under the pretext that some of them permit
themselves to imprison the insects in their corollas, and poison them
with their venomous juices.

At times, the forest became marshy. They felt under foot quite a
network of liquid threads, which would feed the affluents of the little
river. Some of the rills, somewhat large, could only be crossed by
choosing fordable places.

On their banks grew tufts of reeds, to which Harris gave the name of
papyrus. He was not mistaken, and those herbaceous plants grew
abundantly below the damp banks.

Then, the marsh passed, thickets of trees again covered the narrow
routes of the forest.

Harris made Mrs. Weldon and Dick Sand remark some very fine
ebony-trees, much larger than the common ebony-tree, which furnish a
wood much blacker and much stronger than that of commerce. Then there
were mango-trees, still numerous, though they were rather far from the
sea. A kind of fur of white moss climbed them as far as the branches.
Their thick shade and their delicious fruit made them precious trees,
and meanwhile, according to Harris, not a native would dare to
propagate the species. "Whoever plants a mango-tree dies!" Such is the
superstitious maxim of the country.