Following closely on its heels is the _Poinsiana Regia_, a native of Madagascar, naturalized in some parts of India, but not met with here. The _Amherstia_ is, however, indigenous to these parts, flourishing in a limited area. I do not think the specimens introduced by a friend of mine into the Calcutta Botanical Gardens thrived particularly well, neither am I aware whether it is to be found among our exotics at home. In a lofty glass house, with a high temperature, saturated atmosphere, and rich, loamy soil, it might flourish. The finest specimen I ever beheld was in the Commissioner’s ground. Several seeds of its near rival germinated in my own greenhouse in Herefordshire, but the heat was insufficient to carry them through the winter, though the gardener at Moor Park, to whom I gave some seeds, kept them in a flourishing condition for several years. Various kinds of acacias and mimosas perfumed the air and delighted the eye; and the beauty of many a garden was considerably enhanced by well-kept clumps of the graceful bamboo and the elegant plantain. The display of floral wealth was also considerable, but there is a limit to my memory. Those were the days in which whole forests of teak were cut down with a recklessness impossible to understand under any administration; no thought was taken of the future, which must take care of itself. Forests, instead of being thinned, were absolutely cleared on a principle of penny wise, pound foolish, which characterizes those of our own agriculturists, who refuse to replace worn-out fruit trees, because they themselves may not live to see them grow up and bear. Considering all that their forefathers did for them, such wanton selfishness is a little surprising—even in men! Day after day, huge rafts of teak, in charge of a Burmese crew, were floated down the river to the timber-yard. This had been going on ever since the monsoon set in, at which time this river, to the depth of which I have already alluded, is subject to sudden rises of twenty feet and more. One of the sights of the place was to watch the elephants at work stacking these ponderous pieces of timber; and, knowing from habit exactly what was required of them, they certainly set about it in a most intelligent and methodical manner, with little or no prompting on the part of their drivers. Anyone watching them at this occupation could also form some idea of their colossal strength, a power which they themselves are apparently incapable of appreciating, and which they willingly delegate to the service of man. Few animals are more easily tamed, and once domesticated, the desire for liberty seems to die out in them for good and all. The Burmese turn them into the jungle to browse, just as we do horses into a field; when they require one, they have but to walk a short distance and call any one of them by name, when the pachyderm leaves off feeding and follows his master like a dog. The mention of