about seeking fish which it catches in the following manner. In the first place it does not dive as other sea-birds, such as geese, ducks, and divers do, but rises high into the air like birds of prey circling about and waiting until a fish, attracted by the noise, rises to the surface. Great flocks of these birds may be seen hovering about, and from time to time they drop with such force on their prey that they dive half an arm's length under the water. The fish, astonished by the noise of the wings, do not move, and so let themselves be caught.

It sometimes happens that two birds seize upon a fish. Nothing is more entertaining than to watch, either from on board ship or from the shore, the battle that follows between them, for neither bird relinquishes the prey which is finally torn in pieces, each one carrying off his share. Their beaks are half a palm long, and are more curved than those of any other birds of prey. They are, indeed, longer, and their wings more spreading than those of eagles or vultures. On the other hand, their bodies are so lean that they are scarcely larger than pigeons. Provident nature has given them strong wings to sustain the weight of their enormous beak, for they do not require them for such a meagre body. The Spaniards call these birds alcatraz.'

Many other birds, unknown to us, are found in this country. Most remarkable for the variety of their plumage and their forms are the parrots; some are as large or even larger than our cocks, while others are scarcely the size of a sparrow. Flocks of parrots are as numerous as are flocks of ravens, crows, or jays in Europe. The natives use them for food, just as we do pigeons and blackbirds, rearing them about their houses for their entertainment, for they take the place of our linnets and magpies. There is another of nature's gifts which I must not omit to mention.

The alcatraz is a pelican, but the description would rather seem to fit the albatross.

H

BOOK IX

ISPANIOLA has a wealth of harbours, in one of which the colony of Savana has been founded, thus named because it stands in a savana, that is to say, in a swampy plain overgrown with grass very suitable for rearing cattle and horses; such is the name given in Spain to a place of this kind. The new colony is rightly proud of a stream which flows through it and which is so swollen by rains at certain seasons of the year, that the entire plain, although large, is covered; and were it not for the hills, which arrest them, the waters would flow uninterruptedly to the harbour. During the period of inundation, such an enormous quantity of eels is washed in, that when the waters subside, the eels, caught by stumps and thick reeds, growing in the swamp, remain scattered over the ground. As soon as the news spreads, such sailors as are on friendly terms with their neighbours load their ships with these fish; but if the eel-hunters do not appear after the flood, or come too soon and are obliged to leave again, the islanders, fearing that the mass of these eels may rot and corrupt the atmosphere, turn droves of pigs loose on the plain, and thus furnish them with ample provender.

The number of pigs in this island is considerable. They all descend from some which were brought here. By a dispensation of nature, all these quadrupeds have one and sometimes two litters in the year. Mares and cows have

one colt or calf, and sometimes two, when ten months old; and I am assured that they live longer than in our climate. I cite a convincing example. Twenty-six years ago, the same Dean, whose testimony I have often invoked, took with him to Hispaniola a live cow, which calved each year, according to the report of neighbours. The Dean, who at this moment is in my house, boasts that thanks to that one cow and its descendants, he has formed a herd of more than eight hundred head of cattle. The same is told concerning birds. Hardly are they out of their nests and got their feathers than they begin to breed.

Our dean also deserves praise because, amongst the colonists of Concepcion, the city of his deanery, he was the first to cultivate cinnamon. From that time forth these trees, which are as large as the mulberry, have propagated with such rapidity in Hispaniola, Cuba, and Jamaica (the last being the island where the Emperor recently conferred upon me a rich benefice with the title of Abbot) that a pound of cinnamon will not cost more a few years hence than the apothecaries now ask for an ounce. Unfortunately there is nothing pleasant in human things without some bitterness; attracted by the sweet odour of these trees the ants attack them in such swarms that they consume everything sweet in their neighbourhood, and do great injury to the inhabitants. The stems of the cinnamon-trees are so long that they look like swordscabbards. A curious thing is told in this connection: when the winds blow, and especially when the cinnamon is ripening, the canes strike against one another with such a noise that it sounds like a flock of thousands of geese and ducks fighting. According to the quality of the sap, whether still bitter or ripe, and according to the weight and grain of the pith in the canes, the sounds vary and are sweet to hear.

I must again speak at length concerning a tree which I would rather call a stalk, since it is not hard, but filled

with marrow, like an artichoke; and yet it nevertheless grows to the height of a laurel-tree. I have already mentioned it briefly in my First Decade. The possessors of such trees say they are plane-trees although they are different in every respect. In fact they bear no resemblance to plane-trees, for the latter is a strong tree with broad branches, more leafy than other trees, lofty, straight, and strong; probably Your Excellency has already heard this. The tree I mention is deficient in resistive quality. It bears fruits but few leaves, and is frail, drooping, and with only one stalk and no branches. It has few leaves which, at the top, are half an arm's length and two spans in breadth, and at the bottom, quite similar to the long pointed leaves of canes. When touched by the cold of winter, these trees droop their heads, as though by their own weight. Their life is so exuberant that they wither and die after nine or ten months. They grow rapidly, and when they are mature some bunches are put forth from the stock which contain about thirty fruits, and sometimes more. In the islands these fruits attain the size of our garden cucumbers and on the continent they are still larger. When they are unripe, their colour is green, and when they ripen, they become white. The pulp is as soft as fresh butter, quite recalling the same taste. At first it is not agreeable to eat, but becomes so if habitually eaten. The Egyptians commonly say this was the apple eaten by Adam, the first created of our race, by which he caused the perdition of mankind.

The merchants who visit those countries for the profit of dealing in effeminating spices, useless essences, perfumes of Araby, and unnecessary jewels, call these fruits musa. For my own part, I do not know what Latin name to give to these trees and vegetables. I have consulted several Latin authors, and have applied to those of our

Plantains or bananas are meant. The description which follows is extremely faulty.

contemporaries who are reputed to have the best knowledge of that language, but none of them has satisfied me. Pliny, indeed, mentions a certain fruit called mixa; a learned man has told me I should call this fruit mixa because there is only a slight difference between mixa and musa; but I do not share his point of view, since Pliny affirms that they made wine of mixa, whereas that would be impossible with musa. I have seen many of these fruits and have even eaten some of them at Alexandria, when on my mission to the Sultan in the name of our masters Ferdinand and Isabella. I am therefore far from believing that wine could be made from them.

I must now explain from what country this plant migrated, so to speak, to the region occupied by the Spanish colonists, and what are its drawbacks. It was originally brought from a part of Ethiopia called Guinea, where it grows wild, as in its native country. When planted, it develops so rapidly that people generally regret having cultivated it on their property. As soon as it is sown anywhere, it vitiates the soil for any other product, contrary to the lupins, which fertilise the earth by their growth. Spreading more rapidly than mountain ferns, it grows and thrusts out its roots, so that the field where it once takes root can never be freed from it, either by the plough or by the hoe. Each minute little root, as small as a hair which hides itself in the sod, perpetually thrusts forth a large number of shoots, that draw such nourishment from the mother stem that they exhaust all its strength, and quickly kill it. Moreover, the same thing happens to the sprouts themselves, which die as soon as they have produced their fruit; as though punished for their unkindness to their mother. This plant is moreover so fragile, that, although it is as thick as a man's thigh and as tall as a laurel-tree, the blow of a sword or stick breaks it to the ground, as though it were an artichoke. In the territory of an aged sovereign in Hispaniola, called Moccorix, whose name the country bears, is found