Jungle Orchids

From the heart of the jungle comes a savage cry of victory. This is Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. From the black core of dark Africa, land of enchantment, mystery and violence, comes one of the most colorful figures of all time.

Fans cry from the immortal pan of Edgar Rice Burrows. Tarzan, the bronzed white sun of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burrows, the story of jungle orchids. Everything about Edwina Clark formed a strange contradiction.

Her name and her fair skin proclaimed her to be English, and yet she had the almond eyes of the high cheek bones of the Orient. Her face had a classic beauty, unlined and extremely youthful, but her hair was silver-gray, and her serene manner, her apparent gentleness, was perhaps the strangest contradiction of all,

when one took into consideration the great bullwhip which seldom left her hand. Edwina's shop, like the others in the flower bazaar of Becorata, consisted of crude stalls. But behind hers was a magnificent modern greenhouse in which she spent most of her waking hours.

My poor sweet darling, you look so ill. You speak to me, Moana? I spoke to this poor ailing orchid plant. My heart weeps to see it die. It most beautiful orchid, but was half dead when native bring from jungle.

I know. Have you ever seen anything so incredibly lovely, or? Who got take two other side of Greenhouse where it'd get more like? No! I don't want you to touch it! Put your clumsy stupid fool! You've got my lovely ocklet!

No, Moana! No you swift! Please Moana! No! No! Far from the flower bazaar of Beccorata, Torgo, the small native boy, wandered among the flowers of the jungle. He'd been warned against straying from the village of his people, But it was spring, and the fascination of nature had been too great.