A notable feature of the Philippine landscape is the mango tree. This truly magnificent tree is often of perfect symmetry, and rears aloft on its massive trunk and wide-spreading branches a perfect dome of green and glistening leaves, adorned in season with countless strings of sweet-scented blossom and pendent clusters of green and golden fruit, incomparably luscious, unsurpassed, unequalled. Beneath that shapely vault of verdure the feathered tribes find shelter. The restless mango bird [3] displays his contrasted plumage of black and yellow as he flits from bough to bough, the crimson-breasted pigeon and the ring-dove rest secure. These glorious trees are pleasing objects for the eye to rest on. All through the fertile valleys of Luzon they stand singly or in groups, and give a character to the landscape which would otherwise be lacking. Only the largest and finest English oaks can compare with the mango trees in appearance; but whilst the former yield nothing of value, one or two mango trees will keep a native family in comfort and even affluence with their generous crop. Bamboos. On the banks of the Philippine streams and rivers that giant grass, the thorny bamboo, grows and thrives. It grows in clumps of twenty, forty, fifty stems. Starting from the ground, some four to six inches in diameter, it shoots aloft for perhaps seventy feet, tapering to the thickness of a match at its extremity, putting forth from each joint slender and thorny branches, carrying small, thin, and pointed leaves, so delicately poised as to rustle with the least breath of air. The canes naturally take a gradual curve which becomes more and more accentuated as their diameter diminishes, until they bend over at their tops and sway freely in the breeze. I can only compare a fine clump of bamboos to a giant plume of green ostrich feathers. Nothing in the vegetable kingdom is more graceful, nothing can be more useful. Under the blast of a typhoon the bamboo bends so low that it defies all but the most sudden and violent gusts. If, however, it succumbs, it is generally the earth under it that gives way, and the whole clump falls, raising its interlaced roots and a thick wall of earth adhering to and embraced by them. Piercing the hard earth, shoving aside the stones with irresistible force, comes the new bamboo, its head emerging like a giant artichoke.