198 \ nature's teachings. 



Nature, as well as Art, supplies her buttresses. In our own 

 country we find the natural buttress more or less developed 

 in our trees, as it is wanted. 



Take, for example, any plantation, and examine the trees. 

 It will be found that those in the centre, which are sheltered 

 on all sides from the force of the wind, shoot up straight 

 towards the light, have comparatively slight and slender stems, 

 and occasionally display such energy in forcing themselves 

 upwards, that when two branches find that there is not room 

 for both, they form a sort of alliance, fuse themselves together, 

 and force their united way towards the sky. 



Take, however, the trees in the outside rows of the planta- 

 tion, and see how they throw out their straight roots and 

 branches towards the outside, and how, on the inside, their 

 trunks are as smooth and their roots as little visible as those of 

 the trees that grow in the centre of the plantation. 



Almost any tree will develop itself in this fashion, showing 

 that instinct can rule the vegetable as well as the animal 

 world. 



There is, however, a South American tree which far sur- 

 passes any of our trees in its power of throwing out spurs or 

 buttresses, principally, I presume, because it may have to 

 endure the fiercest storms from any quarter and at any time. 

 So bold are these projections that several men would be hidden 

 if standing between two of them, and so numerous are they 

 that if a section of the tree were taken at the base of the 

 ground, it would resemble a conventional star or asterisk, *, 

 rather than an ordinary tree-trunk, O. 



The scientific name of this curious tree is Aspidomorpha 

 excelsum. 



The natural buttresses are so thin and so wide that they 

 look like large planks set on end, with one edge against the 

 tree. Indeed, they are used as planks, nothing more being 

 required than to cut them from the tree. 



This is very easy, as, while the wood is green, it is so soft 

 that a blow from a " machete," or native cutlass, is sufficient to 

 separate it. With the same instrument the native makes these 

 flat planks into paddles for his canoe, the soft wood yielding 

 readily even to the imperfect edge of the rude tool. When 

 the wood dries, it becomes very hard, light, and singularly 



