"Is that what they make oil from, Walter?"
"Yes."
"And that one next to it?"
"A fig tree."
"How do you know?"
"Jacques showed me one at Marseilles, last voyage, in a garden."
"And these others?"
"I don't know what they are."
"I think it's queer. Here are pines, beeches, and ash, just such as we have at home, and olives and figs growing right among them. I don't see, when we get all the rest, why we can't have the olives and figs."
They now ascended a hill, and, upon reaching the summit, looked down upon a vale, which presented so striking a contrast to the dry and barren soil they had passed over as to cause them to exclaim, "How beautiful!"