. Sometimes,
as we have mentioned, a nut exhibits three lobes; let the reader
imagine the end of one of the marrows cleft in two, and he will have
an idea of the three-lobed nut; and if he imagines two more marrows
placed side by side, and compressed with and on the top of the former
two, he will then have an idea of the four-lobed nut. In fact, almost
invariably, the four-lobed nut parts in the middle, forming two of the
more common two-lobed nuts, only distinguishable by the flatness of
their inner sides from those that grew separately. When green, they
contain a refreshing, sweetish, jelly-like substance, but when old,
the kernel is so hard that it cannot be cut with a knife.

The enormous fruit-bunches, weighing upwards of fifty pounds, hang
three or four years on the tree before they are sufficiently ripened
to fall down; thus, though only one drupe is put forth each season,
yet the produce of three or four years, the aggregate weight of which
must be considerable, burdens the stem at one time. This great weight,
suspended at the top of the lofty and almost disproportionately
slender stem, causes the tree to rock gracefully with the slightest
breeze; the agitated leaves creating a pleasing noise, somewhat
similar to that of a distant waterfall. Some French writers have
enthusiastically alluded to this rustling sound as a delightful
adjunct of the interesting scene; nor have our English travellers
spoken in less glowing language. 'Growing in thousands,' says Mr
Harrison, 'close to each other, the sexes intermingled, a numerous
offspring starting up on all sides, sheltered by the parent plants,
the old ones fallen into the sear and yellow leaf, and going fast to
decay to make room for the young trees, presents to the eye a picture
so mild and pleasing, that it is difficult not to look upon them as
animated objects, capable of enjoyment, and sensible of their
condition.'

Though no longer producing a drug of great value for the exclusive use
of the wealthy, the double cocoa-nut of the Seychelles affords many
humbler benefits to the inhabitants of those islands. The trunk, when
split and cleared of its soft, fibrous interior, serves to make
water-troughs and palisades. The immense leaves are used, in that fine
climate, as materials for building: not only do they make an excellent
thatch, but they are also employed for walls. With one hundred leaves,
a commodious dwelling, including doors, windows, and partitions, may