The Birmingham age-herald., 1912-05-19

1 and yet they flourish in pride stateli-
 ness and sublimity.
 l I am afraid to mention their height
 lest I should. fail to command credence,
 Suffice 1t to say that some of them
 tower over 150 feet in the air. Every year they shed a cluster of leaves. the
 falling of which, creates a sound re-
 sembling thunder, and the fallen foliage
 leaves ring aroVNl the trunk of the I tree By means of this annual register
 of rings the age of the palm may be
 ascertained and used 10 frequent d tree near Metropolis that proclaimed It's age at 325 years.
 It stood upon a jutting, pre-eminent promotory and as l always stopped to rest there in my jaunts to visit an old recluse known as the Hermit of the
 Stars, of whom l shall presently speak. it became my greatest crony l gen orally paused here early in the morn ing when the rising mountain peaks and the valleys were filled with the chilly mists of the matn hour; when
 the air was yet heavy with the pro nounced odor of the tangerine and the stephenotic fragrance of the coffee
 bloom; when the boninas, madresylva
 wines and raspberries hung dripping with the eopious dews of night; when half domes ticated pecearies occasionally ambled across my zigzag path and from the caju trees came the shrill pipping of the jacotingo.
 And oh what a glorious view was afforded me. I saw the fair facade of the Emperor's palace, the multi-paned
 oriels of the Escola Domestica the
 huge marble letters of the Hotel Or
 leans, the white dome of the Crystal
 palace, and the picturesque minaret of
 the touches, all wing with one another l in smiling their brightest and look -
 ing their prettiest beneath the sun's
 first kiss of dawn In the offing wound l the glistening coils of the estrada de lferro Crailway) around almost perpen-
 dicular pillars of granite, binding them
 with letters of steel. as in the folds of some monster python, keeping pace with the railHoad in its intricate wind ings. crossing and recrossing the same at oft repeated intervals. ran the white | line of the Emperor's old highway, hug ging the cliffs. leaping the gorges sand spanning the innumerable caccatas as it toiled upward in weary stretches and linterminable lengths. broad fields of dark green mandoca, retreating in the distance suggested an immense carpet suspended upon nearly vertical walls iand 2000 feet below lay the bay--a huge disc Of burnished metal sullen and Apparently motionless. while far beyond through occasional gaps in the noun tains could be seen the blue sweep of the sea: it's surface dotted with the white sails Of crude catamafans and countless jangadas glinting in the
 morning ray. To the background noun tain peak, range upon range. scalloping
 the horizon with scraggy points as bill lows Of adamant upon a sead of jade
 Then turned and regarded my crony, the palm. it's aged crest battling un- ceasingly with the clouds and its plum ous tuft pointing during the night to the silent watches of the glittering
 cruz do sul (Southern Cross). IL spoke
 to me, too grooming in the sunlight, whispering in the shade. When the storm wind rose 1t told me tales most N eird and melancholy--lnd legends of the days when the Nyterois and Guanabaras held converse meath it's
 fronds: when their songs of war and dance lost echo on the water and the blue smoke of their council fires rose against the sun,