Then there were mango-trees, still numerous, though they were rather far from the sea.

A kind of fur of white moss climbed them as far as the branches.
Their thick shade and their delicious fruit made them precious trees, and meanwhile, according to Harris, not a native would dare to propagate the species.

"Whoever plants a mango-tree dies!" Such is the superstitious maxim of the country.
During the second half of this first day of the journey, the little troop, after the midday halt, began to ascend land slightly inclined.
They were not as yet the slopes of the chain of the first plane, but a sort of undulating plateau which connected the plain with the mountain.
There the trees, a little less compact, sometimes clustered in groups, would have rendered the march easier, if the soil had not been invaded by herbaceous plants.

One might believe himself in the jungles of Oriental India.

Vegetation appeared to be less luxuriant than in the lower valley of the little river, but it was still superior to that of the temperate regions of the Old or of the New World.
Indigo was growing there in profusion, and, according to Harris, this leguminous plant passed with reason for the most usurping plant of the country.