No botanist ever entered a primitive forest without envying the bird to whom no blossom is inaccessible, who, high above the loftiest trees, looks down upon the sea of verdure, and enjoys prospects whose beauty can hardly be imagined by man. A majestic uniformity is the character of our woods, which often consist but of one species of tree, while in the tropical forests an immense variety of families strive for existence, and even in a small space one neighbour scarcely ever resembles the other. Even at a distance this difference becomes apparent in the irregular outlines of the forest, as here a dome-shaped crown, there a pointed pyramid, rises above the broad flat masses of green, in ever-varying succession. On approaching, the differences of colour are added to the irregularities of form; for while our forests are deprived of the ornament of flowers, many tropical trees have large blossoms, mixing in thick bunches with the leaves, and often entirely overpowering the verdure of the foliage by their gaudy tints. Thus splendid white, yellow, or red-coloured crowns are mingled with those of darker or more humble hue. At length when, on entering the forest, the single leaves become distinguishable, even the last traces of harmony disappear. Here they are delicately feathered, there lobed--here narrow, there broad-- here pointed, there obtuse--here lustrous and fleshy, as if in the full luxuriance of youth, there dark and arid, as if decayed with age. In many the inferior surface is covered with hair; and as the wind plays with the foliage, it appears now silvery, now dark green--now of a lively, now of a sombre hue. Thus the foliage exhibits an endless variety of form and colour; and where plants of the same species unite in a small group, they are mostly shoots from the roots of an old stem. This is chiefly the case with the palms; but the species of the larger trees are generally so isolated in the wood, that one rarely sees two alike on the same spot. Each is surrounded by strangers that begrudge it the necessary space and air; and where so many thousand forms of equal pretensions vie for the possession of the soil, none is able to expand its crown or extend its branches at full liberty. Hence there is a universal tendency upwards; for it is only by overtopping its neighbours that each tree can attain the region of freedom and of light; and hence also the crowns borne aloft on those high columnar trunks are comparatively small. Shooting up straight and tall in this general struggle, they present no fantastic branches, no projecting limbs, like the sturdy oaks of our forests, and each, supported by the surrounding crowd, loses depth and tenacity of root. They may partly be compared to a body of military: the storm may rage, the lightning blast, the earthquake shake, and though many fall, the body at large scarcely feels the loss. Separate them and they will be found far inferior in power to the wild warrior, who, accustomed to stand alone,