236 EDGE OP THE JUNGLE 



branch was to sink still deeper into the swamp- 

 water, where its hind-legs would weaken and 

 vanish as it touched dry land less and less. And 

 here to-day we watched a quartette of these man- 

 atees, living contented lives and breeding in the 

 gardens of Georgetown. 



The mist again drifted its skeins around leaf 

 and branch, gray things became grayer, drops 

 formed in mid-air and slipped slowly through 

 other slower forming drops, and a moment later 

 rain was falling gently. We went away, and to 

 our mind's eye the manatees behind that gray 

 curtain still munch bamboos, the spur-wings 

 stretch their colorful wings cloudward, and the 

 bubble-eyed crocodiles float intermittently be- 

 tween two watery zones. 



To say that these are beautiful botanical gar^ 

 dens is like the statement that sunsets are admir- 

 able events. It is better to think of them as a 

 setting, focusing about the greatest water-lily in 

 the world, or, as we have seen, the strangest 

 mammal; or as an exhibit of roots — roots as va- 

 ried and as exquisite as a hall of famous sculp- 

 ture; or as a wilderness of tapestry foliage, in 

 texture from cobweb to burlap; or as a heaven- 

 roofed, sun-furnaced greenhouse of blossoms, 



