A BIT OF USELESSNESS 121 
and some of split bamboo. But they resemble 
one another in several respects—all are ram- 
‘shackle, all lean with the grace of Pisa, all have 
shutters and doors, so that at night they may be 
hermetically closed, and all are half-hidden in the 
folds of a curtain of flowers. The most shiftless, 
unlovely hovel, poised ready to return to its orig- 
inal chemical elements, is embowered in a mosaic 
of color, which in a northern garden would be 
worth a king’s ransom—or to be strictly modern, 
should I not say a labor foreman’s or a comrade’s 
ransom! 
The deep trench which extends along the front 
of these sad dwellings is sometimes blue with wa- 
ter hyacinths; next the water disappears beneath 
a maze of tall stalks, topped with a pink mist of 
lotus; then come floating lilies and more hya- 
cinths. Wherever there is sufficient clear water, 
the wonderful curve of a cocoanut palm is etched 
upon it, reflection meeting palm, to form a den- 
dritic pattern unequaled in human devising. 
Over a hut of rusty oil-cans, bougainvillia 
stretches its glowing branches, sometimes cerise, 
sometimes purple, or allamanders fill the air with 
a golden haze from their glowing search-lights, 
either hiding the huts altogether, or softening 
