THE FOREST
When we all met next morning, again under the bamboo grove, the good
Padre said:
"If you were lost in your woods at home, you would soon wander and die;
but if you were lost here, you could live for years."
"Then let us go into such a forest of Eden," I replied, and held out
my hands to Fil and Filippa.
Away we went down the white shell road across the canal; and soon we
were lost among the many trees, palms, and vines.
The Padre pointed to the coconut tree and the nipa palm, and said:
"As we already have told you, they would afford you a house, food,
drink, light, and soap."
"What is this great hard tree?" I inquired.
The Padre explained: "That's the valuable mahogany. Thin strips of
it are polished, and used to cover the woodwork of your piano and
bureau at home."
"And this other wonderful, new tree?" I asked.
"That is the molave. It is so hard that sea worms and white ants
cannot bore into it. So it is good for boats, wharves, and frames
for big buildings," replied the Padre.
"Here is a pretty tree," remarked Filippa.
"You should think so," answered her father. "It is the lanete. Its wood
is so strong and pliable, that your violin was made from part of one."
"Here's a skipping rope," exclaimed Filippa.
"No, a boat rope," explained Fil.
"That is really the bejuco rattan vine," remarked the Padre, who
knew botany and the lore of nature. "It is three hundred feet long,
as long as a city block, if you pull it out of the jungle and away
from the tree tops, where it has climbed like a huge snake. We can
use it for bridge or carriage ropes, or we can divide the strands
and make cloth, or hats, or cord out of it."
"What gorgeous and sweet-scented flowers," exclaimed Filippa, pointing
to a great tree.
"That is the Ylang," said the Padre. "Our friend uses its perfume
on his handkerchief; but he did not know, perhaps, that the flower
grew in the far-away Philippines. It has the deepest fragrance of
any flower, whether on plant, bush, or tree."
"What can its strange name mean?" I inquired; for I seemed to have
no acquaintance with nature at all, in this wonderfully different land.
The Padre, who knew many languages, explained: "It is a Malay word
which means, 'The chief flower of all flowers'; and such I think
it really is. We capture the fragrance by distilling the flowers,
and mixing pure alcohol with the essence."
"If you were ill in the forest, and caught fever from the mosquitoes
and ants that stung you, the bark of this tree would cure you, just
as quinine does," continued the Padre.
"Is it the little quinine, or cinchona, tree?" I inquired.
"No, it is a sister tree. We call it 'Dita' in our language."
"I said our forests would house and feed you. Now I'll show you
how they would also clothe you. Please show me your handkerchief,
Filippa," said the Padre.
Filippa handed him a little square of linen cloth, so thin and watery
in color, or absence of color, that I could look through it.
"In your country, that little handkerchief would be worth twenty-five
dollars. It is woven from the very thin fibers drawn from pineapple
leaves, and is called Pina cloth, or Pina linen."
Filippa's mother added: "It is finer than silk or hemp linen. We make
our best shiny gowns and laces out of it. Because it is so fine,
it takes a long time to get enough threads to weave and work it
together. The time spent in making it, explains its great cost."
"I see now why Filippa is promised a Pina gown for our coming feast,
or fiesta day, that you kindly promise to give in my honor before I
go away. It certainly is a cloth fit for a queen," I replied.
"Oh! when will the feast day come?" Filippa eagerly inquired.
"Soon," laughed her mother.
"Here is a more wonderful tree, from the gum of which we make
automobile tires, rubber heels, elastic bands, hot water bags, rain
coats, rubber shoes, hose, and so on," exclaimed the Padre.
I looked; and surely enough, there was the identical rubber tree
which we see in florists' shops or in the greenhouse at home; only
this tree was larger. Its thick leaves were nearly as large as a hat.
"We cut a hole in the bark, and, when the yellow gum oozes out, we
boil it down thick, till it is dark colored. Then we mix it with chalk
and sulphur; and behold, afterwards we roll out your automobile tire,"
explained the wise Padre.
"Could you pull the rubber tree out as high as the stars, and would
it snap back again?" asked joking Moro.
"Stop your joking," replied Fil's mother. "You know very well that the
rubber tree itself is not pure gum, any more than the maple tree in
America is pure sugar. It is the gum of the rubber tree that becomes
the rubber."