urrounded by a railing. Out of the middle of it there grows a
gnarled and ancient tree with crooked boughs splitting asunder with
hardly any leaves on them.

_Now_ do you see?

You only see monkeys looking like little black demons against the
afterglow still lingering in the sky as they leap from the tall palm
trees near, but this tree is not a palm.

Suddenly a leaf, shaped like that of a poplar, but much larger, floats
down, and in an instant a slight dark figure, tied up in a bundle of
loose clothes, falls upon it, and holding it between the palms of the
hands bows again and again. That leaf is a precious relic, for this is
the sacred Bo tree, said to be at least two thousand years old!

[Illustration: SWAYING ITS LEAN UNLOVELY BODY TO AND FRO IN TIME WITH
THE TUNE.]

After the Cingalese had come over from India and settled here, a monk
came and converted them to Buddhism; he was followed by his sister, a
princess, as he was a prince, and she brought with her, so it is said, a
branch of the actual tree under which Buddha sat when he considered all
the problems of life and found an answer to them, which he left to his
people. This branch, being planted, became a tree itself. So the story
goes; and that there has been a tree here worshipped for untold ages is
true, and if that is so, whatever its origin, this also to us is a
sacred spot, hallowed by the thousands of poor souls who, knowing not
the light, yet have come here with yearnings towards the light and to
the "unknown god."

After dinner we wander out again into the tree-shaded road near, and a
sight of extraordinary splendour startles us. Every tree is brilliantly
illuminated as if by a million points of electric light. You have seen
an arc-light which seems to scintillate rays? These lights might be very
tiny arc-lights, for each one vibrates in the intensity of its
luminousness. We can see the outlines of the trees clearly. It is a
wonderful evening for fire-flies. No one knows why on some nights they
appear like this in countless thousands, and on other nights, apparently
the same, there is not one to be seen. It looks almost as if they had
parties and agreed to do their best on certain occasions. They have
evidently done their best for us to-night, for the other people
following us out of the hotel, who have been here longer than us, are
entranced.

"Never saw anything like it, not even in the West Indies," says one man.

"Puts a Christmas tree in