beach, and were not favourable. The long flat shore, unrelieved by bay or cove, gave no promise that it would contain behind the fringe of cocoanut palms anything to fascinate the eye. No sooner was the belt passed than avenues of noble trees were disclosed with groups of picturesque houses, patches of emerald green rice-fields, thronged bazaars, and palaces set in park-like grounds. Villages of mud huts cluster outside the very walls of the compounds which contain the palatial residences of the Europeans; and the happy, careless children of the sun seem to revel in a picturesque squalor with every sign of contentment. If the dwellings of the natives are mean, the trees that shelter them are not. Many of the roads are adorned with magnificent avenues, and every compound possesses groups of trees that would be an ornament to any English park.
One of the most striking trees is the flamboyant Poinciana regia, a native of Madagascar. Its acacia foliage is of a vivid green, and its boughs are laden with masses of brilliant scarlet blossom. In some parts of India the flowers bloom before the leaves unfold. The tree then appears clothed completely in scarlet, a strange sight in the blaze of the midday sun. In Hindustani it is known as the gulmohr, or peacock-flower, from the markings on one of its petals. The name has been corrupted into goldmohur, by which it is known to Europeans in some districts.
As an avenue tree, nothing equals the banyan in Madras, which retains its leaves until the fresh flush comes with the monsoons. Four varieties are common on the roadside and in the compounds. The many-stemmed Ficus indica is the finest, and to the eye of the foreigner the most wonderful of all the trees in the East. It is seen to best advantage standing by itself in the compound, where it looks like a small grove. Some
