hird story was
wanted I was compelled to seek new fields of adventure in the books of
travellers. Regarding the Southern seas as a most romantic part of the
world--after the backwoods!--I mentally and spiritually plunged into
those warm waters, and the dive resulted in the 'Coral Island.'

It now began to be borne in upon me that there was something not quite
satisfactory in describing, expatiating on, and energising in, regions
which one has never seen. For one thing, it was needful to be always
carefully on the watch to avoid falling into mistakes--geographical,
topographical, natural-historical, and otherwise.

[Illustration: TROPHIES FROM MR. BALLANTYNE'S TRAVELS]

For instance, despite the utmost care of which I was capable while
studying up for the 'Coral Island,' I fell into a blunder through
ignorance in regard to a familiar fruit. I was under the impression that
cocoanuts grew on their trees in the same form as that in which they are
usually presented to us in grocers' windows--namely, about the size of a
large fist, with three spots at one end. Learning from trustworthy
books that at a certain stage of development the nut contains a
delicious beverage like lemonade, I sent one of my heroes up a tree for
a nut, through the shell of which he bored a hole with a penknife. It
was not till long after the story was published that my own brother--who
had voyaged in Southern seas--wrote to draw my attention to the fact
that the cocoanut is nearly as large as a man's head, and its outer husk
is over an inch thick, so that no ordinary penknife could bore to its
interior! Of course I should have known this, and, perhaps, should be
ashamed of my ignorance, but, somehow I'm not!

I admit that this was a slip, but such, and other slips, hardly justify
the remark that some people have not hesitated to make--namely, that I
have a tendency to draw the long bow. I feel almost sensitive on this
point, for I have always laboured to be true to nature and to fact even
in my wildest flights of fancy.

This reminds me of the remark made to myself once by a lady in reference
to this same 'Coral Island.' 'There is one thing, Mr. Ballantyne,' she
said, 'which I really find it hard to believe. You make one of your
three boys dive into a clear pool, go to the bottom, and then, turning
on his back, look up and wink and laugh at the other two.'

'No, no, not "_laugh_,"' said I, remonstratively.

'Well, then, you make him smile.'

'