The island of Fierro is one of the most considerable of the Canaries,
and some suppose its name to have been given upon this account: that its
soil, not affording so much as a drop of fresh water, seems to be of
iron; and, indeed, there is in this island neither rivulet, nor well,
nor spring, save that only toward the seaside there are some wells; but
they lie at such a distance from the city, that the inhabitants can make
no use thereof. But the great Preserver and Sustainer of all, remedies
this inconvenience by a way so extraordinary, that we can but sit down
and acknowledge that he gives in this, undeniable demonstration of his
goodness and infinite providence. For in the midst of the island, says a
late traveler, there is a tree, which is the only one of the kind,
insomuch that it hath no resemblance to those mentioned by us in this
relation, nor to any other known to us in Europe. The leaves of it are
long and narrow, and continue in constant verdure, winter and summer;
and its branches are covered with a cloud, which is never dispelled, but
resolved into a moisture, causing to fall from its leaves a very clear
water, and that in such abundance, that the cisterns, which are placed
at the foot of the tree to receive it, are never empty, but contain
enough to supply both man and beast.