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Updated: June 5, 2025
I will go into the forest and rest." He walked swiftly across the plain, and parting the clinging branches of two gigantic ferns, entered the dim wood. He laid the heavy cross beneath a tree, and strolled idly. It was a forest of fronds. Lofty fern trees waved above wide-leaved palms. Here and there a little marsh with crowding plant life held the riotous groves apart.
The rain beat and the wind roared and beautiful palms lashed the air with their fronds It was grand to get on shore once again At the end of the wharf we were hustled into a sled on steel runners, like a hearse with curtains around it and drawn by bullocks The streets were all of mosaic, thousands of little stones being packed together like corn on a cob.
And all the time the trees themselves were of the same form and foliage as at first, the leaves or fronds I feel inclined to call them, for they were more like very, very delicate ferns or ferny grass than leaves with which each branch was luxuriantly clothed, seeming to bathe themselves in each new colour as the petals of a flower welcome a flood of brilliant sunshine.
His legs were scarcely half the length of his body. So, staring one another out of countenance, we remained for perhaps the space of a minute. Then, stopping to look back once or twice, he slunk off among the bushes to the right of me, and I heard the swish of the fronds grow faint in the distance and die away.
All down the smooth white walls evermore was stealing a thin veil of dissolution; while here and there little runnels of the purest water were tumbling in tiny cataracts from top to bottom. It was one of the thousand birthplaces of streams, ever creeping into the day of vision from the unlike and the unknown, unrolling themselves like the fronds of a fern out of the infinite of God.
One Sunday I walked across lots to church and on the way picked a twig of balm of Gilead poplar keeping it with me through service for its fragrance. That night I dream that I am in a pasture looking for fertile fronds of the cinnamon fern which I fail to find. I see cows and am afraid. This based on reality of a few days before. At length by a stone I find a fern coiled as in spring.
The highest peak, which presents a buttressed face to the north, and overlooks our peaceful bay, is crowned with a forest of bloodwoods, upon which the jungle steadily encroaches. The swaying fronds of aspiring palms, adorned in due season with masses of straw-coloured inflorescence, to be succeeded by loose bunches of red, bead-like berries, shoot out from the pall of leafage.
It was the night of a confetti fête at Shephard's Hotel. Among the trees of the gardens were ropes of lights and the soft color-spots of Chinese lanterns. Branches glittered with incandescent fruit of brilliant colors. Flags hung between the fronds of the palms and the plumes of the acacias, and among the pleasure-seekers from East and West of Suez fell pelting showers of confetti.
An invigorating breeze stirred gently, as if but half- awakened, and tenderly ruffled fronds of bracken, sliding softly upward from moss and roots, tremulously caressing the sweet-smelling grass, to sweep grandly over the hill-crest in ripples and eddies, increasing in volume as it sped. The earth was throbbing: it panted like a thirsty wood-spirit.
The lower part of a stem of a Palm, for instance, does not increase in size after it has lost its crown of leaves. This is carried up gradually. The upper part of the stem is a cone, having fronds, and below this cone the stem does not increase in diameter.
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