Chapter V: Part 5

The gods all understood that their fates depended upon the god of love, the bright and beautiful Balder. If he died they must die. Think then how troubled they must have been, when, one day, they heard a great cry ringing through the earth, and up to the very top of the ash tree, where was placed their highest heaven, called Walhalla. This piercing cry was: “Balder, fair Balder is going to die!” They had never thought before that their beloved Balder could die, but now they were sore afraid, not only for him, but for themselves. They were told by some wise woman that Balder would surely die unless all substances that could inflict death were made powerless. Upon hearing this his mother, Frigg, travelled over the whole world, and asked the rocks, and the pebbles, frost and rain, and wood and iron; everything, in short, to spare her son. And they all promised not to hurt him.

There was great joy among the gods when Frigg returned with this good news. So Balder was not to die, after all. And there was a great feast held in Walhalla to celebrate the glad tiding. In the midst of the merriment it was proposed to try some of these things that had promised not to hurt Balder, to see how they would avoid injuring him. One of the gods threw a clod of earth at Balder, and it broke into a cloud of dust before it reached him. Another poured a pitcher of water over him, and the water formed a cascade over him without wetting his clothes. Then they tried more dangerous weapons; a rock; a club; a sword; and Vali shot an arrow at him. All passed by him, or fell harmless. Even Thor’s mighty hammer refused to hit Balder.

At last a brother of Balder’s approached, holding in his hand a small bunch of leaves. All laughed at the sight of this harmless weapon. But alas! when the leaves struck Balder’s breast he fell, and died instantly. They were mistletoe leaves, and when Frigg had asked the oak tree to spare her son, she forgot to ask the mistletoe, which grows upon the oak. So the mistletoe had given no promise; and now Balder was dead. The brother who had thrown the leaves was greatly distressed, and all Walhalla was filled with mourning.

Balder being dead, the other gods must die. The giant, who had escaped Thor’s hammer, killed some of them, and others died in various ways. Finally Thor was killed by the sea-serpent; and the great Odin was torn in pieces by the wolf Fenris.

And that was the end of the Scandinavian gods.

Then the Druid priests brought their religion into the country; and, after many years, the Romans came, and taught the Scandinavians the gospel of Jesus Christ.

WORK AND WATER.

It is so easy for most of us to get a drink of water when we feel thirsty, that we are not apt to even think of the vast amount of thought and labor and money that is necessary in many parts of every country in the world in order to give people a glass or a cup of water when they want it.

And yet water is often a very costly thing, so much so indeed that there are lands where people, and civilized people too, cannot afford a drink of it every time they feel thirsty.

If we live in the country we go to our well, or our spring, or our pump from the cistern, and we get all the water we want. If we live in the city we have our hydrants, and perhaps have the water carried to every floor of the house. This is because we are Americans, and, as a nation, we believe that we cannot spend too much money in making ourselves comfortable, and having thing’s convenient around us.

We build great reservoirs and conduct into them the pure water from the streams, often far distant from our cities, and we have pipes running through every street, and into every house, so that even the poorest people can always have plenty of water, no matter what else they may have to go without.

But in many countries that were civilized and enlightened long before America was ever thought of, there are to-day no such conveniences for obtaining a drink of water.

In some places in Europe water is carried about from house to house, as the milk-man brings us milk, and some of the plans of carrying it are very curious.

In parts of Holland where the canals serve as roads, there are water-boats, that go up and down the canals serving water to everyone who wishes to buy it, and has money to pay for it. And sometimes it is pretty stale water when the last families get their supply. But people who are not used to Croton water, or Schuylkill, or Cochituate water do not seem to care much for this. They are glad enough to get water at all.

In other parts of Europe, and in this continent too, the water is carried about by men and women.

In the opposite picture you may see how some of these water-carriers supply their customers.

In Malaga a jaunty Spaniard with a cigar in his mouth, and two jars of water hanging from his shoulders and arms, walks up and down the streets selling the precious fluid at so much a quart or a pint.

1. Water Carrier of Malaga.
2. Pongo.
3. Water Carrier of Mexico.
4. Water Carrier of Guaymas.
5. French Water Carrier.
6. Arabian Woman at the Fountain.

VARIOUS METHODS OF CARRYING WATER.]

In Pongo the water is conveyed in a great leathern jar on the back of a stout, bare-legged fellow who carries a long funnel, so that he can pour the water into the pitcher and pails without taking his jar from his shoulders.

In parts of Mexico the jars are fastened to broad straps which pass around the water-carrier’s head, while in Guaymas, the carrier has no load at all himself, but puts two great skins of water on the back of a little donkey.

The French water-carrier has a stick on his shoulders with a pail of water on each end; and when one shoulder is tired he can shift his load to the other, which is, perhaps, the next best thing to having a donkey.

But the water-carriers of Arabia and Egypt, who very often are women, are the most graceful and in some respects the most sensible of all. They carry their jar of water on their heads.

As this makes it necessary for them to keep themselves very erect, it gives them fine, straight figures, and a graceful walk. The disadvantage of their plan is that they cannot carry very much water at a time.

Carrying water on the head reminds me of a little negro girl I once saw in the South. This girl had been to a spring to get a pail of water. The pail was so large and the girl was so small that she had a hard time of it as she staggered along, holding the handle of the pail with both hands, and with the greatest difficulty keeping it from touching the ground.

I pitied the poor little creature, for her load was a great deal too heavy for her.

But at length she reached a stump of a tree, and by great efforts she got the pail on the top of this. Then she stooped down and managed to slide the pail from the stump to the crown of her head.

Then she stood up. She was all right! She seemed to forget that she had a load, and skipped away as if she had nothing heavier on her head than a spring bonnet. She did not go directly to the house where she was to carry the water, but trotted over to where some children were playing, and began running around in a perfectly easy and unconcerned way, not appearing to think at all of her pail. But she did not spill a drop of the water.

The Southern negroes are very dexterous in this matter of carrying things on their heads.

On some of the water-melon plantations there may sometimes be seen long lines of men walking from the fields to the boats which are to be loaded with these melons, and each man carries a water-melon under each arm and one on his head.

Sometimes one of these men will drop a water-melon from under his arm, but no one ever drops one from his head.

Such a thing would be considered a disgrace.

I think it is likely that very few of us would ever have a pail of water or a water-melon, if we were obliged to carry either of them very far on our heads.

THE LAND OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT.

This is the kingdom of Siam in Southern Asia. It has this name because the white elephant is the national emblem, and is represented on the Siamese flag, as the eagle is on the American flag.

Siam is a very pleasant country to live in, and a good many Europeans have from time to time had their homes there, so that the Siamese, who seem to be a teachable people, have learned a great deal from them, and have copied some of their ways. The missionaries, too, have done very much to improve the manners and customs of the Siamese. But still they retain many of their old customs, and the result is a queer sort of mixture—in some things the people show themselves to be manly and intelligent, and, in others, they appear very ignorant, and degraded.

For instance, a fine-looking Siamese gentleman will be standing by your side, conversing with you. He is a nobleman of the country, dressed in silk and diamonds. He will talk with you about foreign countries, perhaps about books, and you will be astonished at his information, and will regard him as a very superior man; as, indeed, he is. But suddenly, he will go down on his hands and knees, right in the dust. What has happened? The King has appeared upon the scene! If he wishes to speak to the king this nobleman will crawl up to him on all fours, and, as long as he is in the king’s presence, if it is for two or three hours, he remains in this degrading position. The king may be a very well-informed, and a kind-hearted man, but it has never occurred to him that this old custom of his country is ridiculous and disgraceful.

The Siamese are very fond of ornament. On the next page is a portrait of one of the little princes of the royal family.

His silken suit is covered with gold and silver embroidery, and with rows of precious stones. I hope that high pointed affair he has upon his head is not very heavy. It would be a very inconvenient thing to take off when he wished to make a bow to a lady. But then he never does wish to make a bow to a lady. That is a piece of good manners that no Siamese boy is ever taught.

When this young prince has his meals his attendants crouch before him on their hands and knees. When he wishes anything they crawl towards him with the articles. To stand erect in his presence would be an unheard of impropriety.

When he goes out for an airing he rides upon an elephant. Perhaps you think that would not be a very agreeable way of traveling, but there you are mistaken. The motion of an elephant is very easy, and pleasant to the rider; and it is a much more intelligent animal than the horse, and quite as gentle, and docile. A little child can lead a well-trained, tame elephant. The disadvantage of this kind of steed is that when it does take it into its great head to behave badly, it is sometimes very difficult to control, for it is exceedingly strong, and capable of doing a great deal of mischief. But these trained elephants of the Siamese seldom get into tantrums.

When the young prince takes his ride he has, at least, one attendant to walk by the elephant, and keep things all straight. The prince sits in a little ornamental tower on the beast’s back. From this lofty seat he gets a good view of the surrounding country.

Near Ayuthia, in Siam, there is a large stockade, into which the king’s elephants are driven once a year, and the finest ones are selected for use during the ensuing year. This stockade is made of posts of teak wood, driven firmly into the ground, a few feet apart. In the middle of the enclosure, thus made, is a small tower-like house, built on poles, and surrounded by strong stakes. In this are the men who are to secure the animals after they are chosen.

The king and his nobles are on a raised platform near the stockade; and they select those of the animals that have been driven into the enclosure, that they consider the most desirable.

The fine points in an elephant are these: a color approaching to white or red, black nails on the toes, and tails that have not been injured. Elephants are so fond of fighting each other that it is a rare thing to find one in a herd that has not lost some portion of its tail in a battle.

It occasionally happens, when a hunting party is out, that a white elephant is captured. This is considered a very fortunate circumstance, as the possession of a white elephant by the king is supposed to bring prosperity upon the whole kingdom. The fortunate finder of this precious animal is received with great honor upon his return to court, and is magnificently rewarded.

The elephant is placed in a large enclosure, and treated with great distinction. It is caparisoned with cloth of gold; and is fed with all the dainties that elephants like. Rings of gold are placed on its tusks, and a diadem on its head. When it is sick the court physician attends it, the priests pray for it; and when it dies the whole kingdom mourns.

Of late years the people of Siam have grown less superstitious, and do not pay as many honors to white elephants as they did while in an entirely uncivilized state. But they still retain the white elephant on their flag as the emblem of their country.

CURIOSITIES OF VEGETABLE LIFE.

It is not necessary to travel in order to find a great many curious things in vegetable growth. They lie around us everywhere.

We will find a great deal to surprise us, if we study the habits of the trees and plants about us. Some have very peculiar methods of growth; some go to sleep, and wake up at regular hours; some set little traps for catching insects; some often change the colors of their flowers; and many other curious ways they have.

But men, who travel in various countries, and study the vegetable growth of all climates, meet with very marvelous things indeed. Let us follow them about the world for awhile. But we will have to travel very swiftly, and to skip from one country to another, and back again, perhaps, with great haste.

We will first look at some trees that surprise us by their size.

On Mount Etna, in Sicily, there is a famous chestnut tree. It stands on one of the lower slopes of the mountain, so that it is often visited. There are quite a number of huge chestnut trees in that neighborhood, each of which has a distinctive name. But the “Chestnut of a Hundred Horses” is much larger than any of the others. It is a very, very old tree, and the people who now live near it, are not sure how it first got its name. Some say it was named many years ago by a Spanish queen because its thick wide branches once sheltered her and her party of a hundred horsemen, from the rain. Others say it is so called because a hundred horses can be sheltered within, and around it. It is now the home of a shepherd, who has built a hut for himself, and a fold for his sheep, within the hollow of the tree.

The trunk measures 190 feet around. It looks as if there were several trees growing together, but it is known to be all one tree.

In the centre of a graveyard, in the village of Allouville, in Normandy, there stands an oak that is over nine-hundred years old. Near the ground its trunk measures thirty feet in circumference. Two hundred years ago it was fitted up as a little chapel, and is used for that purpose to this day.

The tree is hollow, as are all these very old trees. The lower part of this hollow is lined with wood, carefully plastered and wainscoted. This is the chapel. Above it, is a second story, and in this room lives a solitary man—a hermit. Above, in the branches, is a belfry, ornamented with a cross.

In another part of France, there is an oak that is known to be fifteen hundred years old. It also is hollow, but every year, like the Hundred Horse Chestnut, and the Allouville Oak, it covers itself with thick and luxuriant foliage. The circumference of this oak is over 80 feet, and its branches spread over a circumference of 380 feet.

The inside of this tree is used for a dining hall by pleasure parties. A circular bench has been cut out of the wood, and a dozen persons can sit comfortably around the table. The room has a glass door, and a window. Beautiful ferns and mosses spring out of the sides of the tree, and decorate this hall.

Not far from Smyrna, in Asia Minor, there is a very old, and a very large Plane tree. It has three stems from one root. These join into one trunk at the height of about twenty feet from the ground, thus forming a gateway. The main road runs right through this gateway, and cavalcades of horsemen, and camel riders, and vehicles pass under this singular arch.

There is another Plane tree in the island of Cos, which is almost as well known as that of Smyrna. Its spreading branches cover the whole of a large square of a city, and are so heavy that the old trunk is not able to bear their weight. The inhabitants of the city, proud of their tree, and anxious to keep it, have built columns of marble under the branches to support them.

We have been visiting single trees of different kinds. There is a family of trees, every member of which attains a great size. The Baobabs ought to be large, for they require 800 years to attain their full growth. They then measure, usually, from 70 to 77 feet in girth. Enormous branches spread out from the central stem, each one of which is a respectable size for a tree. So these trees give a splendid shade, covering a space of ground 300 feet in circumference. They do not grow very tall. These trees are found chiefly in Africa.

The Baobabs remind us of another marvel of the vegetable kingdom—the great age of some trees. We have mentioned one 900 years old, and another 1,500. The ages of these are known because the trees have been traced back historically for that length of time. But these are babies in age by the side of the Baobabs. Botanists calculate the ages of the largest Baobabs to be over 5,000 years! We must remember this is _calculation_, not _certainty_. It is positively known, however, that some of them are several hundred years old; and there are olive trees known to have lived over a thousand years. This is a very good old age when we consider that man seldom lives to a hundred.

The height to which some tropical plants that are not trees grow is surprising. You have, no doubt, all seen the queer fleshy-leaved cactus that is cultivated in green-houses. This plant has no woody stem, and yet one species of it grows to the height of twenty and thirty feet.

It is called the giant candle, and it certainly looks like one.

The great height of this plant is the more surprising because it grows right out of crevices of rocks where no soil can be seen, and pushes its straight, fleshy stem up into the air without anything to shelter it from the furious winds that often sweep over the country. But it braves the winds, and grows, and grows; and every year puts forth its large white flowers, and bears upon its queer stalk a very savory fruit.

The largest palms rise to a height of 45 feet, and more or sometimes as high as 70 feet—before putting out a single branch. Then they spread out a great plume of feathery leaves. The wax palm of the Andes is said to grow to the height of 200 feet.

In New Zealand, the ferns, that are here so fragile and delicate, grow so high that they look, at a little distance like small palms.

The tallest trees in the world are the giant trees of California. These are from 300 to 350 feet high; and one that was cut down was 450 feet high.

We cannot very well speak of the height of vines, but there are species of these that grow to a very great length. Sometimes one stalk will stretch itself out to the length of 150 yards. Some of the sea-weeds, thrown upon the shore, measure 500 yards in a single strip.

We must again go to the tropics if we want to find large leaves. You have, no doubt, heard of the great water-lily—the Victoria Regia, but I think you would open your eyes if you could get a sight of a river filled with these floating mammoths of leaves. They are from four to eight feet in diameter. They are, in shape, almost circular, and are turned up a little around the edges.

The strength of these leaves is almost as surprising as their size. The fibres are large, and are so woven together on the under side that they form a solid framework to support the upper part of the leaf, which is of a beautiful green, and thick, and velvety. The water-fowl choose these leaves often for sleeping places in the hot nights, and find it very pleasant, doubtless, to be thus rocked on the cool water, in a velvet bed, that will not sink.

Palms have ridges running lengthwise of their leaves, as you may see by examining a palm leaf fan. One ridged leaf of the talipot palm, when well grown, it is said, will shelter forty persons. This sounds like a traveler’s story, but single leaves of this tree have been brought to this country, and one of them will completely cover the ceiling of a good-sized room.

The leaves of the cocoanut palm are several feet long.

The juices of many vegetables possess very singular properties. The cow-tree, is so called because the sap that flows from it closely resembles milk, and is used as such by the natives.

A substance, with which you are very familiar, India-rubber, is nothing but the sap of a tree. A very useful sap it is; and, when hardened, and properly prepared, is impervious to water; and shoes, coats, coverlets, &c., are made of it. Put through another hardening process it takes a fine polish, and is made up into beautiful ornaments and useful articles.

India-rubber trees are found in South America, the East Indies, and in some parts of Africa.

In the same countries there grows a beautiful tree, which yields a thick sap, called gutta-percha. This is similar, in substance, to India-rubber, and is used for a great variety of purposes, from making lifeboats to knife-handles.

Sugar and molasses are made from the juice of a cane; maple sugar from the sap of a tree that grows plentifully in all our mountain districts. You think it wonderful that milk can be taken from a tree. Is it not quite as strange to find sugar there? I suppose you will reply to this that the milk is ready prepared, while we have to make the sugar. That is true, but we add nothing to what we take from the tree. We simply apply heat to the sap, and behold the sugar! The chief reason, I think, why we are not surprised at this sugar tree is that we are familiar with it. The inhabitants of Central America do not see anything strange in the fact of a tree bearing milk.

But there is a tree that produces sugar ready-made. This is the manna tree of Sicily. The sap hardens on the trunk and branches into sugary particles, which are scraped off with wooden knives. This kind of sugar is used principally in medicine. It is insipid in taste.

A species of Laurel in India contains camphor in all its juices. Break up twigs, stems, and leaves of this tree, and heat them, and the liquid that comes from them will soon condense into camphor gum.

The seeds of one kind of palm produce a fine oil; and the stalks of another give us wax, of which candles are made. This wax forms on the outside of the stalk, at the places where the leaves join the stem. From another palm is extracted a juice that when exposed to the air for a short time, becomes wine.

In arid deserts, and in unwholesome marshes plants flourish luxuriantly, the leaves of which contain pure, sweet, freshwater, always ready for the thirsty traveler.

So far we have only spoken of the wholesome juices of plants and trees, but a large number are full of deadly poisons. Many of these grow in our own woods and fields. Some of the poisons have been utilized in medicines, for it has been found that, properly prepared, and given in small quantities, they can frequently arrest disease. Such is opium, which we get from the poppy, strychnine, and prussic acid. All of these are terrible poisons, but when administered by a physician in small doses, they relieve pain, and help to cure disease.

Other vegetable poisons seem to be only destructive. If a man should, ignorantly take refuge under a Machineel tree from a shower, and remain there for any length of time after the rain began to drip upon him, he would suddenly discover that blisters were breaking out on his skin, and that sharp pains were running through his limbs, and he might well feel thankful if he escaped without a fit of sickness. This, at least is the story that the savages tell who live in the regions where the Machineel grows. It is probable that they exaggerate the facts, but they will none of them go near a tree of this species if they can help it; and there is no doubt that it is very poisonous.

The most celebrated of the poison-trees is the Upas, which grows in several tropical countries, but chiefly in the island of Java. The accounts given of the Machineel tree are nothing compared to the wonderful stories told of the Upas. No plant, not even grass, will grow under one of these trees, or anywhere near it. A drop of water falling from a leaf on any one beneath it, will produce inflammation. Whoever walks under one of these trees bare-headed, must expect to lose all his hair. To stay under it for a short time will cause sickness. To sleep under it is certain death. Birds fly over the tree with great difficulty, and if one should chance to alight upon it, woe be to him! Instantly he drops down dead. The wild beasts know the fatal tree, and shun it, but, if one venture beneath its shadow, he never comes forth again, but leaves his bones there.

These stories which the natives really believe, they told to travelers, and, for a long time they were supposed to be true. One thing which caused these accounts to be so readily credited was the condition of things in a valley in Java, where these trees were found in abundance.

The natives of Java told the Europeans of a wonderful valley that they called the Valley of Death, because the air was so poisoned with the noxious vapors of the Upas trees that no animal ever went through the valley. It dropped dead before the short journey was completed, and the ground was strewn with the bones of creatures that had perished there. The natives were willing to conduct their visitors to a hill that overlooked this valley at a safe distance. When they arrived at this hill, there, sure enough, was the valley, Upas trees, dead grass, bones, and all, just as the savages had described it. This settled the matter for a great many years in regard to the death dealing Upas tree. Other travelers to Java, rode up this hill, looked at the Valley of Death, shuddered, and rode down again.

At last there arrived on the hill-top a man who made up his mind he would ride _through_ this valley! And so he did! Everybody said he was going to his death, but he was resolved to solve the mystery of the valley. He rode into it, and through it, and back again, and came out alive and well! Nevertheless he found the skeletons of wild animals, and of birds strewn the whole length of the valley.

It was a mystery, but it was all cleared up afterwards. The valley was fatal to all animals except man. But the Upas tree had nothing to do with it. The valley was filled with carbonic acid gas to the height of a couple of feet from the ground.

I cannot explain to you in this place how this gas is formed by plants. It would be a good plan for you to study up this subject, for it is quite curious, and very interesting. The gas is fatal to animal life. Neither man, beast, or bird can breathe it for even a short time and live. But the gas is heavier than the common air, and sinks in it. In this valley, as I have said, it extended only about two feet above the ground, and a man’s lungs were above it, so he could not inhale it. On horseback of course he was far above it. But low animals, and birds that alighted on the ground at once fell victims to it.

This led to an examination of the Upas tree stories, and most of them were found to be fables. Grass and flowers do grow around these trees in most places; birds sport upon their branches, and lizards run up and down unhurt; and it is possible to remain under them without injury of any kind.

But it is true that the juice of the upas is a powerful poison. The savages use it as a weapon to kill their enemies in war, and to slay the wild beasts. They dip the points of their spears and arrows in the poisonous sap. An animal dies in five or six minutes after being struck with one of these poisoned weapons. They take great precautions in collecting the sap, so terrible is their fear of this tree.

On some plants the blossoms are so small they can scarcely be seen by the naked eye, and on others they are of enormous proportions.

An African flower, the Aristolochia, has a large and curiously shaped blossom. It is shaped like a helmet with flaring edges, and the opening is so large that it will admit the head of a man, and can be worn as a hat.

The flowers of the Victoria Regia, which are shaped very much like those of our water lily, are a yard in circumference.

But the giant of blossoms is the Rafflesia Arnoldi. This is a long name, but the flower can bear it very well.

It grows in the islands of Java and Sumatra, and the buds and blossoms seem to be pretty much all there is of the plant. And quite enough too. The full blown flower is a yard wide. Each of its five petals is a foot long, and they stand at about the distance of a foot from each other. In the centre there is a deep honey-cup, which is capable of holding a dozen pints of fluid. The whole weighs fifteen pounds. The central cup is violet and red, and the petals are of a brilliant orange color, so that it makes a gorgeous display indeed.

But this flower, so magnificent in size and color, has such a disagreeable smell, that after having satisfied your curiosity by looking at its gigantic blossom, you will be glad to get away from its neighborhood.

From the bark of a tree, the Cinchona, we get one of our most useful and powerful medicines. The bark is known under the name of Peruvian bark, and there are several preparations from it—quinine being the one most generally used. It is a valuable medicine everywhere, but is especially so in the hot countries where it grows, for very malignant fevers prevail in those localities. It got its name, Cinchona, from the first European who used it. The Countess Chinchon of Spain, while living in Peru was attacked by one of the terrible fevers of the country, and was near dying, when she heard that in such fevers the natives cured themselves with the bark of a tree. She tried it, and recovered; and, after she got well, she took pains to make known the virtues of this bark, and gave away great quantities of it. It is now a very important article of export from Peru, and a source of great wealth.

There are other barks of plants and trees used in medicine. A great many are useful as dyes. The inner bark of a species of oak furnishes us with corks. Some trees have aromatic barks. The black birch of our own woods is highly spiced. Of some the flavor is so pleasant that they are used as spices. Cinnamon bark, for instance, which, of course, you know all about.

So you see that even in the bark of vegetables there are pleasant things stored away, and wonderful secrets, if we choose to take the trouble to get at them.

The fragrance of a plant, if it has any, we expect to find in its blossoms. But this quality is not confined to the flowers. It is found sometimes in the leaves, occasionally in the bark, and very frequently in the fruit. We are familiar with the fragrance of strawberries, raspberries, peaches, grapes, bananas, lemons, and oranges; and many others might be named. In fact nearly all eatable fruits have some sort of a pleasant odor, though in some it is very faint.

Sometimes the fragrance is in the nuts. There are but few examples of this. The Black Walnut has an agreeable smell. The most famous of fragrant nuts is the Nutmeg, with which we are all familiar in the spice-boxes. But perhaps you don’t know how beautifully it looks growing upon the tree. So we will break off a branch for you to look at.

This nut ripens under the hot sun of India. Not only is the nut itself fragrant, but the second coat of its envelope, or shell, that you see in the picture, also has a pleasing perfume of its own, entirely distinct from its nut. This you are also familiar with in the spice box, broken up into thin yellow chips, and called Mace.

No more delicious fragrance can be found than that of a South American bean, the Vanilla.

As for leaves, you can think of a great many fragrant kinds in a few minutes, not only green-house plants, like some of the geraniums, but many of the weeds of the fields.

Some vegetables produce very remarkable fruits.

A species of fig-tree bears loaves of bread! It is quite a large tree, about forty feet high, and has wide spreading branches, thickly covered with very large leaves. It bears fruit abundantly, and during eight months of the year, there is always some ripe fruit to be found on the boughs.

This fruit is round; is larger than a child’s head; weighs three or four pounds, and is rough and hairy on the outside.

The thick green rind encloses a pulp, which is as white as wheat bread, and, when cooked, tastes very much like it, and is equally nourishing. To prepare it to be eaten, it is cut into thick slices, and laid upon a gridiron over a bed of hot coals. In a few minutes the “bread” is ready.

Thus the natives of the countries where this fruit grows have bread for eight months of the year with very little trouble. If they did not have this kind they would not have any bread at all, for wheat and rye will not grow there.

But they want bread the rest of the year too. So they take advantage of the time when the fruit is most abundant, and, from that which they do not want for immediate use, they prepare a paste that can be kept a long time without turning sour. And, during the four months the tree is without ripe fruit, they live upon this preparation.

Tapioca is the singular production of a vegetable root. It is singular because, though wholesome and nutritious as food, it is produced from a strong poison. It is prepared as follows by native women.

Roots of the manioc plant are gathered, and bruised into pulp with a wooden pestle. This pulp is wrapped in a net made of lily leaves. This is stuck upon a fork, and a heavy weight tied to the bottom of the net so as to press it tightly to squeeze out the manioc juice. A calabash receives the juice, which is very poisonous. Arrows and spear heads are dipped into it to make them certainly fatal. While this is going on the liquid is all the time depositing a white, starch-like substance in the bottom of the calabash. When all of this that the poisonous liquid contains is deposited, the juice is poured off, and the white substance is passed through clear water, and becomes tapioca.

When we are in the tropics we must not forget to visit the Mangroves. These trees grow thickly together in the ocean mud near the shore, and are very queer specimens of the vegetable world. To look at them from a little distance you would hardly know whether they were trees, or fishes, or sea-serpents. Their upper branches and trunks are like the first, their lower branches covered with oysters and other shell-fish appear like the second; and their long curiously twisted roots, standing partly out of the water, seem like the third. Sometimes, in passing over wet and swampy places, men walk on these roots. In such a case, a naked savage gets along much more easily than an European, with his boots and clothes, and perhaps a heavy gun.

But there is a strange thing about this tree, apart from its uncommon growth. And that is the way that its seeds germinate. We put a seed into the ground, and when it sends up its little stalk and leaves we say it has germinated or sprouted. Now the mangrove seeds germinate on the branches, in the fruit. The seed sends forth the little stalk which grows up there until it is a foot long. This stalk is shaped like a pointed club and is quite heavy. When it is ready to fall, it goes plump down through the leaves and branches of the tree, sharp end downwards, and sticks itself firmly upright in the mud at the bottom of the water. And, after some time, it thrusts itself above the surface, and grows into a comical mangrove tree.

If you will study the marvels of vegetable life you will find strange things of which I have said nothing.

Many wonderful plants grow high up in the air on the branches of trees; and many very curious ones thrive only in the water.

BRON AND KRUGE.

Old King Rhine sat upon his rocky throne among the reeds. He had given his kingly word that for three months his river, the Rhine, should not overflow its banks, and that there should be no manner of tempest upon its waters. The old gentleman was sad and gloomy. A month had passed since he gave this promise, and all that time he had had nothing to do. This was hard upon him, for he had led a very busy life. Many an army had he helped across his river, and many a one had he broken to pieces with floods, and tempests. Christians and savages, knights and nobles, and men of low degree had fought upon his banks. Men had built castles, and he had swept them away, or crumbled them into ruins. And, sometimes, he had helped beautify them, and spread grass and flowers all around them. And he had occupied himself in many other ways.

And now there was nothing for him to do. He looked up and down the length of the stream. The waters were still and blue, and vessels glided over them, and the little boats rocked gaily on the swelling waves. At the wharves of the cities men were busy loading and unloading the ships, and all rejoiced in the pleasant and prosperous season. On the hill-sides the vineyards were as full of grapes as ever they could be, and the vines found their way up the very walls of the ruined castles, and hung their purple clusters on the loosened stones.

It was very pretty, and the old king took pleasure in it, but he always liked to have something going on that was not quite in the ordinary way.

Suddenly he remembered that there were other creatures under his care besides men. There were Nixies, and Fairies, and Gnomes, and Dwarfs, and Undines, and Elves, and Sylphs, and Peris, and Nymphs, and Dryads, and Giants.

Giants! Here was something for him to attend to! There were not a great many giants left on the banks of the Rhine, but the few that were there were capable of doing a great deal of mischief; and king Rhine had been hearing bad reports of them for a long time. But he had been so busy with men and their affairs that he had neglected looking after anything else. It was high time that these giants were taught better manners.

But who was to teach them? Who should he employ to subdue these giants, who were as tall as oak trees? Men could do nothing against them. Since the death of Jack the Giant-Killer no man had ever been known to conquer a giant.

In his perplexity he summoned a wise woman, who lived on the highest peak of the highest mountain on the river, and who always gave wise counsel; but would never leave her rocky home except when some one was in great need of good advice. She came to the king at his bidding and this is what she said:

“Good dwarfs can conquer bad giants.”

Not another word would she utter. She made this same answer to every question the king put to her, until, finally, he flew into a rage, and shook his reedy sceptre at her. Whereupon this wise woman disappeared.

The king spent several days thinking about this matter. He could not fight the giants himself, for that would be beneath the dignity of a king. As for what the wise woman had said about the dwarfs, that was ridiculous. A little creature, scarcely a foot high, to conquer a mighty giant! But, after considering the matter a good while, it did not seem quite so absurd. He recalled to mind something the gnomes had done some years before.

Now a gnome is as small a being as a dwarf, and his home is under the ground, so that he seldom sees the light of day. Consequently he is not as bright and quick-witted as a dwarf. And yet a few of these creatures had first astonished all the civilized nations on the globe, and then set them all to quarreling. In order to make you understand how this was I must go back for a minute to the world before the Flood.

A long time before the Flood, before man was created, the world was inhabited by beasts, fishes, and reptiles of enormous size; very much larger than any at present upon the earth. We know this because parts of the skeletons of these animals have been found in various places; and the learned men of different countries have written a great deal about them.

Now it happened that some years before this trouble had arisen between King Rhine and the giants, and before his talk with the wise woman, some gnomes while digging in a cave for gold, found buried in the earth the skeleton of an immense head. Astonished at this sight they determined to let gold hunting alone for a while, and to see if they could not find the rest of the animal to which the head belonged. They worked carefully and industriously for many months with their little picks and spades, and, finally they laid bare the whole skeleton of a monstrous creature of the very queerest shape the gnomes had ever seen. I say the whole of it, but there were a few bones wanting here and there, for which the gnomes searched in vain in the earth around the spot where the creature lay.

This animal measured thirty-three feet in length. It was shaped somewhat like a great lizard, but it had the back-bone of a fish, and the fins of a dolphin, with the head and teeth of a crocodile. But what eyes it must have had while living! The gnomes amused themselves by crawling in and out of the sockets! The ball of the eye must have been as large as a man’s head!

When the gnomes had finished this great piece of work they did not know what to do with the huge creature they had found. It was of no use to them, and, after they had taken a few of the smallest bones for drum-sticks, they would have nothing more to do with it. After a time, the sight of this terrible, fleshless monster was hateful to them, and they could not move it away.

In this dilemma they went to King Rhine to know what it was best to do with this fruit of their long labors. He told them they had been very foolish gnomes to spend so much time on a thing that was of no use to anybody, and that ought to be covered up from the sight of men. He advised them to put all the earth and stones back again, and bury the horrid creature.

The gnomes could not make up their minds to do this, and they moved out of the cave into another part of the same mountain, and left the lizard in possession of their old home.

Soon after a wood-cutter, being caught in a storm, took refuge in this cave; and the sight of this gigantic skeleton frightened him more than the storm. He ran to his village with the wonderful news. A very learned man who lived there, hearing the story, went to look at the skeleton, and was filled with astonishment, for he had never even imagined such an animal.

He immediately wrote a book about it.

And then old Rhine found that, in this case, the gnomes were wiser than their king. For, so far from this creature they had dug out of the ground being of no account, it caused a greater stir than anything that had happened in his kingdom since the last army had been driven across the river a good many years ago. People flocked from all quarters to the cave, and business was lively the whole length of the river.

Learned men came from every country in the civilized world. And each one wrote a book about the lizard-fish. But the worst of it was that no two of them agreed as to what it was. They disputed so long, and so earnestly over this skeleton that, at last, the unlearned took up the quarrel, each country feeling bound to support its own learned men. And in this way the governments were drawn into the dispute, and there had liked to have been a war over the old bones. Letters of instruction to Consuls were flying about, and there was a great examination into treaties; when, all at once, it became known that the learned men all agreed that the animal was the _Ichthyosaurus_, and that the last one had died thousands of years ago. So the war was happily averted.

Then the dispute was as to who had first found out this fact, but this was amicably settled by the discovery that all the learned men had found it out at precisely the same time.

During all this the gnomes had worked away in their new home at their own affairs, and knew nothing of the great commotion they had caused. But king Rhine nodded his old head, and said to himself; “The gnomes are a very little people, but they have managed to set the whole world by the ears.”

He recalled all this now, and thought perhaps the wise woman meant what she said about the dwarfs and giants.

He despatched a trusty messenger to a colony of dwarfs who lived in a large ruined castle. These dwarfs, or Kobolds, as they are called in that part of the country, sleep all day, and do their work at night. Therefore the king chose an owl, venerable with age and wisdom, for his messenger. He was to travel in the night-time, and rest in the day.

On the second night, quite early, the owl arrived at the castle. He flew quietly into the ruin, so as not to frighten the dwarfs, but he found they had already gone. He was afraid he was too late; and that they had all dispersed to perform their several duties; but, hearing a great noise outside, on the opposite wall from that he had entered, he flew up into a narrow window where there was no glass, and looked solemnly down, with his great staring eyes, upon a very merry scene.

The little kobolds were having a frolic before they separated for the night’s adventures. They were chiefly employed in running up and down the wall, chasing lizards, though some were dancing on the grass at the foot of the castle, and others were swinging on the vines, and gathering grapes. They were making such a hubbub that the owl thought he had better wait for them to get quiet before attempting to make himself heard.

He soon noticed that there were three dwarfs who took no part in the fun, and these sat upon the root of a tree near the castle talking very earnestly together. The owl knew something of the habits of the kobolds, and he supposed this trio to be the Council, chosen yearly by the colony. It was the business of the Council to assign to each dwarf his nightly task, and the affairs of the colony were mainly placed in its hands.

While the three are holding counsel together, and the owl is waiting, I will tell you something about these dwarfs.

They were generally larger than Fairies, although some of them were very small indeed.

There were three or four kinds of these little people, all called dwarfs, although there was a great difference in their characters, and labors. Some were wicked, and thought only of doing spiteful tricks; some were lazy drones, some mingled publicly with men, and became kings’ fools; some would never show themselves to human beings; and some were gnomes and worked underground.

The kobolds were the brightest, and most industrious of all the dwarfs, and were famed for being good-tempered and obliging. Every night these little creatures were busy in the fields, and the stables, and the kitchens of the neighborhood. They never quarrelled among themselves, and they gave nobody any trouble. Hence they were spoken of as the _Peaceful People_.