stooping, he put his hands
down on it, and finally lying down he rolled on it so as to have the
nice sensation of the warm soft grass all over his body. So
agreeable was it lying and rolling about in that open green place
with the sweet sunshine on him, that he felt no inclination to get up
and travel on. It was so sweet to rest after all his strivings and
sufferings in that great dark forest! So sweet was it that he pretty
soon fell asleep, and no doubt slept a long time, for when he woke,
the sun, which had been over his head, was now far down in the west.
It was very still, and the air warm and fragrant at that hour, with
the sun shining through the higher branches of the trees on the
green turf where he was lying. How green it was--the grass, the trees,
every tiny blade and every leaf was like a piece of emerald green
glass with the sun shining through it! So wonderful did it seem to
him--the intense greenness, the brilliant sunbeams that shone into
his eyes, and seemed to fill him with brightness, and the stillness
of the forest, that he sat up and stared about him. What did it
mean--that brightness and stillness?

Then, at a little distance away, he caught sight of something on a
tree of a shining golden yellow colour. Jumping up he ran to the tree,
and found that it was half overgrown with a very beautiful climbing
plant, with leaves divided like the fingers of a hand, and large
flowers and fruit, both green and ripe. The ripe fruit was as big as
a duck's egg, and the same shape, and of a shining yellow colour.
Reaching up his hand he began to feel the smooth lovely fruit, when,
being very ripe, it came off its stem into his hand. It smelt very
nice, and then, in his hunger, he bit through the smooth rind with
his teeth, and it tasted as nice as it looked. He quickly ate it,
and then pulled another and ate that, and then another, and still
others, until he could eat no more. He had not had so delicious a
meal for many a long day.

Not until he had eaten his fill did Martin begin to look closely at
the flowers on the plant. It was the passion-flower, and he had
never seen it before, and now that he looked well at it he thought
it the loveliest and strangest flower he had ever beheld; not
brilliant and shining, jewel-like, in the sun, like the scarlet
verbena of the plains, or some yellow flower, but pale and misty,
the petals being of a dim greenish cream-colour, with a large blue
circle in the centre; and the