ich has
thrived and now covers a great part of the mountain slopes. This is
the algoroda tree, the drooping foliage of which is suggestive of a
weeping willow. Then there is the beautiful West Indian rain-tree,
which the Honolulu people call the monkey-pod tree, and which in
the Philippines is miscalled _acacia_. Its broad branches extend
outward in graceful curves, the foliage is thick but not crowded,
and it is an ideal shade tree, apart from the charm of its blossoms
of purplish pink.

The fire-tree and the mango are two others which are a joy to all true
lovers of trees. The fire-tree is deciduous, and loses its leaves in
December, In April or May, before the leaves come back, it bursts into
bloom in great bunches of scarlet about the size of the flower mass
of the catalpa tree. The bark is white, and as the tree attains the
size of a large maple, the sight of this enormous bouquet is something
to be remembered. When the leaves come back, the foliage is thick,
and the general appearance of the tree is like that of a locust.

Among tropical trees, however, the most beautiful is the mango. Its
shape is that of a sharply domed bowl. The leaves are glossy and
thickly clustered. It is distinguishable at a long distance by its
dignity and grace. But the mass of its foliage is a drawback, inasmuch
as few trunks can sustain the weight; and one sees everywhere the great
trunk prostrate, the roots clinging to the soil, and the upper branches
doing their best to overcome the disadvantages of a recumbent position.

We ate our first mangoes in Honolulu, and were highly disgusted with
them, assenting without murmur to the statement that the liking of
mangoes is an acquired taste. I had a doubt, to which I did not give
utterance, of ever acquiring the taste, but may as well admit that
I did acquire it in time. The only American fruit resembling a mango
in appearance is the western pawpaw. The mango is considerably larger
than the pawpaw, and not identical in shape, though very like it in
smooth, golden outer covering. When the mango is ripe, its meat is
yellow and pulpy and quite fibrous near the stone, to which it adheres
as does a clingstone peach. It tastes like a combination of apple,
peach, pear, and apricot with a final merger of turpentine. At first
the turpentine flavor so far dominates all others that the consumer
is moved to throw his fruit into the nearest ditch; but in time it
diminishes, and one comes to agree with