flourish, orchids hang decoratively, and several shrubs spring aspiringly
among its roots. But the big tree still asserts its individuality. It is
the host, the others merely dependents or tenants. Most of the functions
of the tree are associated with the sea. Twice a year it studs its
branches with pink fruit, food for many weeks for a carnival of birds,
the relics of the feast dully carpeting the sand. Before the first
fruiting the old leaves fall, and for a brief interval the shadows of
branches and twigs, intricate, involved, erratic, might be likened to
unschooled scribblings, with here a flourish and there a blot and many a
boisterous smudge. Soon--it is merely a question of days--the swelling
buds displace millions of leaf-sheaves, pale green and fragile, which
fall and, curling in on themselves, redden, and again the yellow sand is
littered, while overhead fresh foliage, changing rapidly from golden,
glistening brown to rich dark green, makes one compact blotch. And when
the wind torments sea and forest, and branches bend and sway, and
creepers drift before it, the white blooms of the orchids, so light and
delicate that a sigh agitates them, might be "foam flakes torn from the
fringe of spray" and tossed aloft.

The technical description of a fairly common tree--IXORA TIMORENSIS--is
silent on a quality that appeals to the unversed admirer almost as
strongly as the handsome flowers, which occur in large, loose panicles at
the terminals of the branches. Boldly exposed, the white flowers as they
lose primal freshness change to cream, but last for several weeks. The
omitted compliment from formal records is the singular fragrance of the
flowers--strong, sweet, and enticing, though with a drug-like savour, as
if rather an artificial addition than a provision of Nature. During
December the perfume hangs heavily about the trees, being specially
virile in the cool of evening and morning. Being confined to the tropical
coast, away from the centres of population, and flowering at a season