g (camunium, R. chalcas paniculata, Lour.) is a light-coloured
wood, close, and finely grained, takes an exquisite polish, and is used
for the sheaths of krises. There is also a red-grained sort, in less
estimation. The appearance of the tree is very beautiful, resembling in
its leaves the larger myrtle, with a white flower.

The langsani likewise is a wood handsomely veined, and is employed for
cabinet and carved work.

Beside these the kinds of wood most in use are the madang, ballam,
maranti, laban, and marakuli. The variety is much greater, but many, from
their porous nature and proneness to decay, are of very little value, and
scarcely admit of seasoning before they become rotten.

I cannot quit the vegetable kingdom without noticing a tree which,
although of no use in manufacture or commerce, not peculiar to the
island, and has been often described, merits yet, for its extreme
singularity, that it should not be passed over in silence. This is the
jawi-jawi and ulang-ulang of the Malays, the banyan tree of the
continent, the Grossularia domestica of Rumphius, and the Ficus indica or
Ficus racemosa of Linnaeus. It possesses the uncommon property of
dropping roots or fibres from certain parts of its boughs, which, when
they touch the earth, become new stems, and go on increasing to such an
extent that some have measured, in circumference of the branches, upwards
of a thousand feet, and have been said to afford shelter to a troop of
horse.* These fibres, that look like ropes attached to the branches, when
they meet with any obstruction in their descent conform themselves to the
shape of the resisting body, and thus occasion many curious
metamorphoses. I recollect seeing them stand in the perfect shape of a
gate long after the original posts and cross piece had decayed and
disappeared; and I have been told of their lining the internal
circumference of a large bricked well, like the worm in a distiller's
tub; there exhibiting the view of a tree turned inside out, the branches
pointing to the centre, instead of growing from it. It is not more
extraordinary in its manner of growth than whimsical and fantastic in its
choice of situations. From the side of a wall or the top of a house it
seems to spring spontaneously. Even from the smooth surface of a wooden
pillar, turned and painted, I have seen it shoot forth, as if the
vegetative juices of the seasoned timber had renewed their circulation
and begun to produce leaves a