I went to the Cocal I should find myself transported suddenly
from the West Indies to the East. Just such must be the shore of a
Coral island in the Pacific.

These Cocos, be it understood, are probably not indigenous. They
spread, it is said, from an East Indian vessel which was wrecked
here. Be that as it may, they have thoroughly naturalised
themselves. Every nut which falls and lies, throws out, during the
wet season, its roots into the sand; and is ready to take the place
of its parent when the old tree dies down.

About thirty to fifty feet is the average height of these Coco
palms, which have all, without exception, a peculiarity which I have
noticed to a less degree in another sand- and shore-growing tree,
the Pinaster of the French Landes. They never spring-upright from
the ground. The butt curves, indeed lies almost horizontal in some
cases, for the lowest two or three yards; and the whole stem, up to
the top, is inclined to lean; it matters not toward which quarter,
for they lean as often toward the wind as from it, crossing each
other very gracefully. I am not mechanician enough to say how this
curve of the stem increases their security amid loose sands and
furious winds. But that it does so I can hardly doubt, when I see a
similar habit in the Pinaster. Another peculiarity was noteworthy:
their innumerable roots, long, fleshy, about the thickness of a
large string, piercing the sand in every direction, and running down
to high-tide mark, apparently enjoying the salt water, and often
piercing through bivalve shells, which remained strung upon the
roots. Have they a fondness for carbonate of lime, as well as for
salt?

The most remarkable, and to me unexpected, peculiarity of a Cocal is
one which I am not aware whether any writer has mentioned; namely,
the prevalence of that amber hue which we remarked in the very first
specimens seen at St. Thomas's. But this is, certainly, the mark
which distinguishes the Coco palm, not merely from the cold dark
green of the Palmiste, or the silvery gray of the Jagua, but from
any other tree which I have ever seen.

When inside the Cocal, the air is full of this amber light.
Gradually the eye analyses the cause of it, and finds it to be the
resultant of many other hues, from bright vermilion to bright green.
Above, the latticed light which breaks between and over the
innumerable leaflets of the fruit fronds comes down in