THERE is a tree in Paris to which the name "The Sorrowful Tree" is given. Perhaps because it blooms only in the evening.

When the first star appears in the heavens, the first bud of the Sorrowful Tree opens, and as the shades of night advance and the stars thickly stud the sky, the buds continue gradually opening until the whole tree looks like one immense white flower. On the approach of dawn, when the brilliancy of the stars gradually fades away in the light of day, the Sorrowful Tree closes its flowers, and ere the sun is fully risen not a single blossom is visible. A sheet of flower dust, as white as snow, covers the ground around the foot of the tree, which seems blighted and withered during the day, while, however, it is actively preparing for the next nocturnal festival. The fragrance of the blossom is like that of the evening primrose.

If the tree is cut down close to the roots a new plant shoots up and attains maturity in an incredibly short time.

In the vicinity of this singular tree there usually grows another, which is almost an exact counterpart of the Sorrowful Tree, but less beautiful, and, strange to say, it blooms only in the daytime.