into the cage of the poor parrot, and hung in our dining-room, to accustom her to society. In a few days the eggs were hatched, and the poultry-yard had an increase of fifteen little strangers, who fed greedily on bruised acorns, and soon became as tame as any of our fowls, though I plucked the large feathers out of their wings when they were full-grown, lest their wild nature should tempt them to quit us.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Francis had soon become tired of playing with the long leaves his brother had brought him, and they were thrown aside, Fritz happened to take some of the withered leaves up, which were soft and flexible as a ribbon, and he advised Francis to make whiplashes of them, to drive the goats and sheep with, for the little fellow was the shepherd. He was pleased with the idea, and began to split the leaves into strips, which Fritz platted together into very good whipleshes. I remarked, as they were working, how strong and pliant these strips seemed, and, examining them closely, I found they were composed of long libres, or filaments, which made me suspect it to be Phormium tenax, or New Zealand flax, a most important discovery to us, and which, when I communicated it to my wife, almost overwhelmed her with joy. "Bring me all the leaves you can without delay," cried she, "and I will make you stockings, shirts, coats, sewing-thread, cords—in fact, give me but flax and work-tools, and I can manage all." I could
