But there the kindred ends.

A few green weeds, looking just like English ones, peep up through the gravel.

Weeds, all over the world, are mostly like each other; poor, thin, pale in leaf, small and meagre in stem and flower: meaner forms which fill up for good, and sometimes, too, for harm, the gaps left by Nature's aristocracy of grander and, in these Tropics, more tyrannous and destroying forms.

So like home weeds they look: but pick one, and you find it unlike anything at home.

That one happens to be, as you may see by its little green mouse-tails, a pepper-weed, {77} first cousin to the great black pepper-bush in the gardens near by, with the berries of which you may burn your mouth gratis.
So it is, you would find, with every weed in the little cleared dell, some fifteen feet deep, beyond the gravel.