y
legend parallel to this. If it has, then I am sure the palm is awarded
to the deity who gave to the human race the tree that bears the coconut.

Passing a confectioner's shop, I saw a tempting packet labelled
"Cokernut Toffee." I bought a pennyworth and gave it to my little girl,
and

"I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge."

How many boys and girls are there in this kingdom to whom the word
coconut connotes an ingredient which goes to the making of a very
toothsome sweetie? And how many confectioners and shop girls are there
whose idea is no broader? Again:

"I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,
And merrie sang the Birde as she sat upon the spraye."

And I said, "Little Bird, what do you know of the coconut?" And it made
answer, "It is a cup full of food, rich and sweet, which kind hands hang
out for me in winter," How narrow may be the key-hole through which we
take our outlook on things human and divine, never doubting that we see
the whole! In our own British Empire, only a few thousand miles away,
sits a mild Hindu, almost unclad and wholly unlettered, to whom the tree
that bore the fruit that flavoured the toffee that my little girl is
enjoying seems to be one of the predominating tints of the whole
landscape of life. It puts a roof over his head, it lightens his
darkness, it helps to feed his body, it furnishes the wine that maketh
glad his heart and the oil that causeth his face to shine, and time
would fail me to tell of all the other things that it does for him. As a
type and symbol, it is always about him, spanning the sunshine and
shower of life with bows of hope.

The coconut tree is a palm, and has nothing to do with cocoa of the
breakfast table. That word is a perversion of "cacao," and came to us
from Mexico: the other is the Portuguese word "coco," which means a nut.
It is what Vasco da Gama called the thing when he first saw it, and the
word, with our English translation added, has stuck to it. The tree is,
I need scarcely say, a palm, one of many kinds that flourish in India.
But none of them can be ranked with it. The rough date palm makes dense
groves on sandy plains, but brings no fruit to perfection, pining for
something which only Arabia can supply; the strong but unprofitable
"brab," or fan palm, rises on rocky hills, the beautiful fish-tailed
palm in forests solitarily, while the "areca" rears its tall, smooth
stem and delicate head in gardens and supplies million