THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE IN THE FOREST. 341 
anticipation of a drought, but every family, and almost every species, 
does this in a different manner. Some, like Oncidium Lanceanum, lay 
up their store in thick, leathery leaves, so that they can enjoy plenty of 
sunlight without injury. Others, like the Cattleya, have thick leaves 
and swollen stems, which latter is one of the forms of the pseudo bulb, 
and is peculiar to the orchid family. Where the leaves are thin the 
pseudo bulbs are often very large, so that if every leaf should be dried 
up the plant still retains its vitality. In some cases the store of food is 
laid up in cylindrical leaves, some resembling porcupine’s quills, others 
like yard lengths of thick twine; in others, there is a plump, fleshy stem 
which answers the same purpose. A few species have no leaves or 
pseudo bulbs. In such cases their aérial roots perform all the functions 
of both. 
The Bromeliaceaw, wild pines as they are called, have chosen an 
entirely different manner of storing water against a drought. Fold- 
ing the bases of their leaves together, and tightly overlapping one 
upon another, a cup is formed, which retains a store of water for sev- 
eral weeks. Every leaf being a natural gutter leading to this reser- 
voir, the plant succeeds in gathering a little water with every shower, 
so that it is hardly ever actually dry. Taking advantage of this, a 
species of Utricularia, a strictly aquatic plant, has succeeded in locat- 
ing itself in these little pools, where it luxuriates far above its swamp- 
dwelling cousins. Not satisfied with this wonderful contrivance, the 
Bromelia has also developed a peculiar texture of leaf, almost as tough 
as horn, but at the same time quite flexible, which enables it to stand 
such a strong heat and glare as would cripple the more delicate crehid, 
Leaving the dense forest, in which only winged creatures can well 
observe the struggle for life, we come across a river or creek, which, if 
it is wide enough, breaks the continuity, and allows a streak of sun- 
light to penetrate. If, on the contrary, the creek be only a narrow one, 
the forest trees meet overhead, or we paddle our canoe under their 
trunks and branches, which lean over and almost cheke the passage. 
Where the river is broad the forest slopes down to it, looking at a dis- 
tance as if there were a high embankment when actually the shore is 
quite flat tor a long distance behind. Here the struggle for life can be 
fully appreciated, as the vegetation is nearer the eye. All along the 
banks, without a single break, shrubs and low trees are densely packed 
together, each trying to find room for itself at the expense of its neigh- 
bor. They take up every inch of available space, extending their 
branches as far as possible over the stream, while the creeping and 
scrambling vines take advantage of this to spread themselves over the 
whole face of the embankment of foliage, festooning it with their gay 
flowers and revelling in the fact that they have succeeded in ‘ coming 
over ’ their supporters. Sometimes retribution overtakes them, as they 
make the shrub or tree so top-heavy that, when a flood comes, the 
roots are loosened and the swift current tears away the whole mass, 
