“There you are wrong, Pencroft,” said the engineer; “these gigantic eucalypti, which shelter us, are good for something.”
“And what is that?”
“To render the countries which they inhabit healthy. Do you know what they are called in Australia and New Zealand?”
“No, captain.”
“They are called ‘fever trees.’”
“Because they give fevers?”
“No, because they prevent them!”
“Good. I must note that,” said the reporter.
“Note it then, my dear Spilett; for it appears proved that the presence of the eucalyptus is enough to neutralize miasmas. This natural antidote has been tried in certain countries in the middle of Europe and the north of Africa where the soil was absolutely unhealthy, and the sanitary condition of the inhabitants has been gradually ameliorated. No more intermittent fevers prevail in the regions now covered with forests of the myrtaceae. This fact is now beyond doubt, and it is a happy circumstance for us settlers in Lincoln Island.”
“Ah! what an island! What a blessed island!” cried Pencroft. “I tell you, it wants nothing—unless it is—”