Give me the plates of iron and the graters we brought yesterday." My wife was astonished; but I requested her to wait patiently and she should have bread, not perhaps light buns, but eatable flat cakes.

But first she was to make me two small bags of sailcloth.

She obeyed me; but, at the same time, I observed she put the potatoes on the fire, a proof she had not much faith in my bread-making.

I then spread a cloth over the ground, and, giving each of the boys a grater, we began to grate the carefully-washed manioc roots, resting the end on the cloth.
In a short time we had a heap of what appeared to be moist white sawdust; certainly not tempting to the appetite; but the little workmen were amused with their labour, and jested no little about the cakes made of scraped radishes.
"Laugh now, boys," said I; "we shall see, after a while.

But you, Ernest, ought to know that the manioc is one of the most precious of alimentary roots, forming the principal sustenance of many nations of America, and often preferred by Europeans, who inhabit those countries, to wheaten bread." When all the roots were grated, I filled the two bags closely with the pollard, and my wife sewed the ends up firmly.