Last Leaves from Dunk Island

Huge coco-nut palms, that a few hours ago might have vaunted their stately straightness, lie uprooted or broken at the base, or lean at pitiable angles. Some lie fifty yards from the spot where their fronds saluted Sunday mornings sun, yet still carry fragments of their burden of nuts. What significant illustration of the demonism of the wind does a fallen palm present! During ordinary gales the fronds stream before the wind like the loosened hair of a woman, offering to it coy resistance; but, subject itself to the tormenting cyclone as the palm-tree may, lean in obedience to its will, bow before its strength, sway to its caprices, there comes a time when graceful acts are of no avail. The wind will have its savage way. The wailing palm is prostrated, torn and dishevelled, carried along as if it were a straw, and piled with other trophies of victory and violation in calamitous heaps.