But, notwithstanding this, I should not
like to trust it. At all events, the poor babe would have died, if we
had not found him.'
"'Poor babe, he shall not die of hunger now,' said she. 'Let us give him
some figs; but these are not good; we must go and seek some more.'
"The rain having ceased, I consented, passing through the grove, where
there are no fig-trees, to search farther. My daughters had fed the
child with honey and water; it appeared quite reconciled to us, and had
ceased to cry. I judged it might be about eight months old. We soon
found some trees covered with the violet-coloured figs. Whilst I
gathered them, the girls made a pretty bed of moss, adorned with
flowers, for their little favourite, and fed him with the fresh fruit,
which he enjoyed much; and with their fair hair and rosy faces, and the
little negro between them, with his arch, dark countenance, they formed
a charming picture, which affected me greatly."
* * * * *
CHAPTER LVI.
"We had been more than an hour under the tree, when I heard cries again;
but this time I was not alarmed, for I distinguished the voice of the
disconsolate mother, and I knew that I could comfort her. Her grief
brought her back to the spot where she thought her child had been
devoured; she wished, as she afterwards told us, when we could
understand her, to search for some remains of him,--his hair, his bones,
or even a piece of the bark that bound him; and here he was, full of
life and health.
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