rrent, which closely follows
the trend of the land like a mighty river, with a constant temperature
resembling the Gulf Stream of the Atlantic, and a width of five
hundred miles, makes a semi-tropical climate of a latitude which is
often Arctic farther inland. Its equatorial situation alone endows
Ceylon with endless summer.

It is curious to observe how the nature of some plants and trees is
changed by transplanting them hither, and the same is also remarked of
the average individual who has come from other less genial lands to
settle in an equatorial climate. If it proves to be a healthy one, he
takes very kindly to the delightful do-nothing of such a region,
together with its lazy, sensuous enjoyments, losing in a large degree
the energy and ambition naturally developed among the people of the
north. The moral is obvious. He who runs may read. It requires a
colder clime, with a soil not too willing, to awaken human energy, and
to place man at his best. Luxury enervates; necessitous labor
strengthens.

Fruit-bearing trees transplanted from the United States, such as
peach, cherry, and pear trees, have in many instances ceased to
produce fruit, and have become partial evergreens. Experiments with
grapevines from northern climates have met with similar results. In
nearly the same latitude, however, though in opposite hemispheres, the
transplanting of some fruit trees, and especially of the vine, seems
to impart fresh life and fruitfulness. Those brought from France and
Italy put on new vigor when they are domesticated on the Pacific coast
of this continent; while the mission grapevine and others native in
California, exported thence to the countries named, flourish
marvelously and produce abundantly. At this writing, news comes to us
of the partial failure of the grape crop in some of the vineyards of
southern France, and also that, following out the results of late
experiences, the old vines are to be replaced by the introduction of
California varieties. The grapevine does not seem adapted to tropical
climes. It is not a perennial growth, but must enjoy its long winter
rest in order to thrive. Even in mild, equable southern California,
its fruit-bearing branches are cut back annually to the main stalk,
where the principal life is stored. The new branches of the mission
grape, as it is called in this region, produce bunches of the
luscious fruit yearly, which often weigh four and five pounds each;
but as we have said