_THE MULBERRY FAMILY_.
"There is a fruit tree," said Miss Harson, "belonging to an entirely
different family, which we have not considered yet; and, although it is
not a common tree with us, one specimen of it is to be found in Mrs.
Bush's garden, where you have all enjoyed the fruit very much. What
is it?"
"Mulberry," said Clara, promptly, while Malcolm was wondering what it
could be.
"Oh yes," said Edith, very innocently; "I like to go and see Mrs. Bush
when there are mulberries."
Mrs. Bush was not a cheerful person to visit, as she was quite old and
rather hard of hearing, and she lived alone in the gloomy old house with
the Lombardy poplars in front, where everything looked dark and shut up.
A queer woman in a sunbonnet, nearly as old as Mrs. Bush, lived close
by, and "kept an eye on her," as she said.
Mrs. Bush's great enjoyment was to have visitors of all ages, to whom
she talked a great deal, and cried as she talked, about a daughter who
had died a few years ago. The little Kyles did not care to go there
except when, as Edith said, there were ripe mulberries; but Mrs. Bush
liked very much to have them, and Miss Harson took her little charges
there occasionally, because, as she explained to them, it gave pleasure
to a lonely old woman, and such visits were just as much charity, though
of a different kind, as giving food and clothes to those who need them.
The children delighted in the mulberries just because they did not have
them at home, although they had fruit that was very much nicer; but Miss
Harson never wished even to taste them, although she too had liked them
when a little girl.
"The mulberry tree," continued their governess, "belongs to the
bread-fruit family, but the other members of this remarkable family,
except the Osage orange, are found only in foreign countries. The
bread-fruit tree itself, the fig, the Indian fig, or banyan tree, and
the deadly upas tree, are all relations of the mulberry."
"Well, trees are queer things," exclaimed Malcolm, "to belong to
families that are not a bit alike."
"They are alike in important points, when we examine them carefully,"
was the reply. "The bread-fruit genus consists, with a single exception,
of trees and shrubs with alternate, toothed or lobed or entire leaves
and milky juice. This reminds me that the famous cow tree of South
America, which yields a large supply of rich and wholesome milk, is one
of the members; and you see what a number of famous trees we have on
hand now. There are several kinds of mulberries--the red, black, white
and paper mulberry, which are all occasionally found in this country,
and they were once quite popular here for their shade. The fruit is
unusually small for tree-fruit, and very soft when ripe, as you all
know; it is not unlike a long, narrow blackberry, and forms, like it, a
compound fruit, as though many small berries had grown together. The
tree in Mrs. Bush's garden is the black mulberry, as any one might know
by the stained lips and hands that sometimes come from there; and it has
been cultivated from ancient times for its fine appearance and shade. It
is found wild in the forests of Persia, and is thought to have been
taken from there to Europe. The tree is more beautiful than useful, for
the silkworms do not thrive well on the leaves and the wood is neither
strong nor durable."
"Why, I thought," said Clara, "that silkworms always lived on
mulberry-leaves?"
"The white mulberry is their favorite food; and another species, called
the _Morus multicaulis_--for _Morus_ is the scientific name of the
family--has more delicate leaves than any other, and produces a finer
quality of silk. These trees are natives of China, and the white
mulberry grows very rapidly to the height of thirty or forty feet. The
paper mulberry is so called because in China and Japan--of which it is a
native--its bark is manufactured into paper. In the South-Sea Islands,
where it is also found, the bark is made into the curious dresses which
we sometimes see imported thence. It is a low, thick-branched tree with
large light-colored downy leaves and dark-scarlet fruit."
"I wonder," said Malcolm, "if the bark is like birch-bark?"
"It does not look like it," replied Miss Harson, "but it seems to be
very much of the same nature. The red mulberry and black mulberry are
the most hardy of these trees, and the red mulberry will thrive farther
north than any of the family. The wood is valuable for many purposes for
which timber is used, and especially in boat-building. And now, as we
learned something about silkworms and their cocoons in our talks about
insects[15], there is little more to be said of the mulberry tree which
any but learned people would care to know."
[15] See _Flyers and Crawlers_. Presbyterian Board of Publication.
"I want to hear about the bread tree," said little Edith, "and how the
loaves of bread grow on it."
"Do they, Miss Harson?" asked Clara, not exactly seeing how this could
be.
"I don't believe they're very hot," remarked Malcolm, who was puzzled
over the bread-fruit tree himself, but who laughed at his little
sister's idea in a very knowing way. It was not an ill-natured laugh,
though, and a glance from his governess always quieted him.
"No, dear," replied Miss Harson, answering Clara; "loaves of bread do
not grow on any tree. But I will tell you about the bread-fruit
presently; let us finish the _Morus_ family and their kindred in our own
country before we go to their foreign relations. The Osage orange is so
much used in the United States, and in this part of it, for hedges, on
account of its rapid growth and ornamental appearance, that we really
ought to know something about it. 'It is a beautiful low, spreading,
round-headed tree with the port and splendor of an orange tree. Its
oval, entire, polished leaves have the shining green of natives of
warmer regions, and its curiously-tesselated, succulent compound fruit
the size and golden color of an orange. It was first found in the
country of the Osage Indians, from whom it gets its name, and it has
since been cultivated in many parts of this country and in Europe. The
Osages belonged to the Sioux, or Dacotah, tribe of Indians, and their
home was in the south-western part of the old United States. The Osage
orange--a tree from thirty to forty feet high with leaves even more
bright and glossy than those of the ordinary orange--was first found
growing wild near one of their villages."
"But what a very high hedge it would make!" said Malcolm.
"Yes, if left to its natural growth, it would be a very absurd fence
indeed. But this is not the case; the branches spread out very widely,
and by cutting off the tops and trimming the remainder twice in a season
a very handsome thickset hedge is produced, with lustrous leaves and
sharp, straight thorns. Another name for this tree is yellow-wood, or
bow-wood, because the wood is of a bright-yellow color, and the grain is
so fine and elastic that the Southern Indians have been in the habit of
using it to make their bows. The experiment of feeding silkworms upon
the leaves has been tried, but it was not very successful."
"I suppose the worms didn't know that it belonged to the mulberry
family," said Clara, "and I don't see now why it does."
For reply, her governess read:
"'The sap of the young wood and of the leaves is _milky_ and contains a
large proportion of caoutchouc.'"
"Oh!" exclaimed Malcolm; "that sounds just like sneezing. What is it,
Miss Harson?"
"Something that you wear on your feet and over your shoulders in wet
weather; so now guess."
"Overshoes!" replied Clara, in a great hurry.
"How many of them do you wear over your shoulders at once?" asked her
brother. "And it must be a queer kind of sap that has overshoes in it.
Why couldn't you say 'India-rubber'?"
"And why couldn't _you_ say it before Clara put it into your head by
saying 'Overshoes?" asked Miss Harson. "Clara has the right idea, only
she did not express it in the clearest way. The sap of the caoutchouc,
or India-rubber, tree is the most valuable yet discovered, and, as it is
of a milky nature, it can very properly be brought into the present
class of trees."
"Is _that_ a mulberry too?" asked Clara, who thought that the size of
the family was getting beyond all bounds.
"It is not really set down as belonging to the bread-fruit family," was
the reply, "but it certainly has the peculiarity of their milky sap.
However, as I know that you are all eager to hear about the bread-fruit
tree, we will take that next. This tree is found in various tropical
regions, but principally in the South-Sea Islands, where it is about
forty feet high. The immense leaves are half a yard long and over a
quarter wide, and are deeply divided into sharp lobes. The fruit looks
like a very large green berry, being about the size of a cocoanut or
melon, and the proper time for gathering it is about a week before it is
ripe. When baked, it is not very unlike bread. It is cooked by being
cut into several pieces, which are baked in an oven in the ground. It is
often eaten with orange-juice and cocoanut-milk. Some of the South-Sea
islanders depend very much upon it for their food. The large seeds, when
roasted, are said to taste like the best chestnuts. The pulp, which is
the bread-part, is said to resemble a baked potato and is very white and
tender, but, unless eaten soon after the fruit is gathered, it grows
hard and choky."
[Illustration: THE BREAD-FRUIT.]
"So Edie's 'loaves of bread' are green?" said Malcolm, rather
teasingly.
"That's because they grow on a tree," replied Clara. "Our loaves of
bread are raw dough before they're baked, and they are grains of wheat
before they are dough."
"That is quite true, dear," replied her governess, laughing, "and we
must teach Malcolm not to be quite so critical.--The bread-fruit is a
wonderful tree, and it certainly does bear uncooked loaves of bread, at
least, for they require no kneading to be ready for the oven. The fruit
is to be found on the tree for eight months of the year--which is very
different from any of our fruits--and two or three bread-fruit trees
will supply one man with food all the year round."
"Put what does he do when there is no fresh fruit on them?" asked
Malcolm. "You told us that it was not good to eat unless it was fresh."
"We should not think it good, but the native makes it into a sour paste
called _mahé_, and the people of the islands eat this during the four
months when the fresh fruit is not to be had. The bread-fruit is said
to be very nourishing, and it can be prepared in various ways. The
timber of this tree, though soft, is found useful in building houses and
boats; the flowers, when dried, serve for tinder; the viscid, milky
juice answers for birdlime and glue; the leaves, for towels and packing;
and the inner bark, beaten together, makes one species of the
South-Sea cloth."
"What a very useful tree!" exclaimed Clara.
"It is indeed," replied Miss Harson; "and this is the case with many of
the trees found in these warm countries, where the inhabitants know
little of the arts and manufactures, and would almost starve rather than
exert themselves very greatly. There is another species of bread-fruit,
called the jaca, or jack, tree, found on the mainland of Asia, which
produces its fruit on different parts of the tree, according to its age.
When the tree is young, the fruit grows from the twigs; in middle age it
grows from the trunk; and when the tree gets old, it grows from
the roots."
[Illustration: JACK-FRUIT TREE.]
There was a picture of the jack tree with fruit growing out of the
trunk and great branches like melons, and the children crowded eagerly
around to look at it. All agreed that it was the very queerest tree they
had yet heard of.
"The fruit is even larger than that of the island bread-fruit,"
continued their governess, "but it is not so pleasant to our taste, nor
is it so nourishing. It often weighs over thirty pounds and has two or
three hundred seeds, each of which is four times as large as an almond
and is surrounded by a pulp which is greatly relished by the natives of
India. The seeds, or nuts, are roasted, like those of smaller fruit, and
make very good chestnuts. The fruit has a strong odor not very agreeable
to noses not educated to it."
"Miss Harson," said Malcolm, "what is the upas tree like, and why is it
called _deadly_?"
"It is a tree eighty feet high, with white and slightly-furrowed bark;
the branches, which are very thick, grow nearly at the top, dividing
into smaller ones, which form an irregular sort of crown to the tall,
straight trunk. There is no reason for calling it _deadly_ except a
foolish notion and the fact that a very strong poison is prepared from
the milky sap. The tree grows in the island of Java, and for a long time
many fabulous stories were told of its dangerous nature. Travelers in
that region would send home the wildest and most improbable stories of
the poison tree, until the very name of the upas was enough to make
people shudder. It is said that a Dutch surgeon stationed on the island
did much to keep up the impression. He wrote an account of the valley in
which the upas was said to be growing alone, for no tree nor shrub was
to be found near it. And he declared that neither animal nor bird could
breathe the noxious effluvia from the tree without instant death. In
fact, he called this fatal spot 'The Valley of Death.'"
"And wasn't it true, Miss Harson?"
"Not all true, Clara; some one who had spent many years in Java proved
these stories to be entirely false. Instead of growing in a dismal
valley by itself, the graceful-looking upas tree is found in the most
fertile spots, among other trees, and very often climbing plants are
twisted round its trunk, while birds nestle in the branches. It can be
handled, too, like any other tree; and all this is as unlike the Dutch
surgeon's account as possible. One of his stories was that the criminals
on the island were employed to collect the poison from the trunk of the
tree; that they were permitted to choose whether to die by the hand of
the executioner or to go to the upas for a box of its fatal juice; and
that the ground all about the tree was strewed with the dead bodies of
those who had perished on this errand."
"Oh," exclaimed Edith, "wasn't that dreadful?"
"The story was dreadful, dear, but it was only a story, you know: the
upas tree did not kill people at all; and to turn the milky juice into a
dangerous poison took a great deal of time and trouble. It was mixed
with various spices and fermented; when ready for use, it was poured
into the hollow joints of bamboo and carefully kept from the air. Both
for war and for the chase arrows are dipped in this fatal preparation,
and the effect has been witnessed by naturalists on animals, and also on
man. The instant it touches the blood it is carried through the whole
system, so that it may be felt in all the veins and causes a burning
sensation, especially in the head, which is followed by sickness
and death."
"Well," said Clara, drawing a long breath, "I'm glad that I don't live
in Java."
"The poisoned arrows are not constantly flying about in Java, dear,"
replied her governess, with a smile, "and I do not think you would be in
any danger from them; but there are a great many other reasons why it is
not pleasant, except for natives, to live in Java. There are a number of
Dutch settlers there, because the island was conquered by the Dutch
nation, but while war with the natives was going on they suffered
terribly from these poisoned arrows; so that the very name of upas
caused them to tremble. The word 'upas,' in the language of the natives,
means poison, and there is in the island a valley called the upas, or
poison, valley. It has nothing, however, to do with the tree, which does
not grow anywhere in the neighborhood. That valley may literally be
called 'The Valley of Death.' We are told that it came to exist in this
way: The largest mountain in Java was once partly buried in a very
dreadful manner. In the middle of a summer night the people in the
neighborhood perceived a luminous cloud that seemed wholly to envelop
the mountain. They were extremely alarmed and took to flight, but ere
they could escape a terrific noise was heard, like the discharge of
cannon, and part of the mountain fell in and disappeared. At the same
moment quantities of stones and lava were thrown to the distance of
several miles. Fifteen miles of ground covered with villages and
plantations were swallowed up or buried under the lava from the
mountain; and when all was over and people tried to visit the scene of
the disaster, they could not approach it on account of the heat of the
stones and other substances piled upon one another. And yet as much as
six weeks had elapsed since the catastrophe. This upas valley is about
half a mile in circumference, and the vapor that escapes through the
cracks and fissures is fatal to every living thing. Here, indeed, are to
be seen the bones of animals and birds, and even the skeletons of human
beings who were unfortunate enough to enter and were overpowered by the
deadly vapor. And now," added Miss Harson, "I have given you this
account to make you understand that the famous upas valley of Java is
not a valley of upas trees, but one of poisonous vapors."
"And the deadly upas," said Malcolm, "is not deadly, after all! I think
I shall remember that."
"And I too," said Clara and Edith, who had listened with great interest
to the description.
"Shall we have some figs now, by way of variety?" was a question that
caused three pairs of eyes to turn rather expectantly on the speaker;
for figs were very popular with the small people of Elmridge.
[Illustration: THE BANYAN TREE.]
"Not in the way of refreshments, just at present," continued their
governess, "but only as belonging to the mulberry family; and we will
begin with that curious tree the banyan, or Indian fig. This stately and
beautiful tree is found on the banks of the river Ganges and in many
parts of India, and is a tree much valued and venerated by the Hindu. He
plants it near the temple of his idol; and if the village in which he
resides does not possess any such edifice, he uses the banyan for a
temple and places the idol beneath it. Here, every morning and evening,
he performs the rites of his heathen worship. And, more than this, he
considers the tree, with its out-stretched and far-sheltering arms, an
emblem of the creator of all things."
"Is that only one tree?" asked Malcolm as Miss Harson displayed a
picture that was more like a small grove. "Why, it looks like two or
three trees together."
"Does it grow up from the ground or down from the air?" asked Clara.
"Just look at these queer branches with one end fast to the tree and the
other end fast to the ground!"
Edith thought that the branches which had not reached the ground looked
like snakes, but, for all that, it was certainly a grand tree.
"The peculiar growth of the banyan," continued Miss Harson, "renders it
an object of beauty and produces those column-like stems that cause it
to become a grove in itself. It may be said to grow, not from the seed,
but from the branches. They spread out horizontally, and each branch
sends out a number of rootlets that at first hang from it like slender
cords and wave about in the wind.--Those are your 'snakes,' Edith.--But
by degrees they reach the ground and root themselves into it; then the
cord tightens and thickens and becomes a stem, acting like a prop to the
widespreading branch of the parent plant. Indeed, column on column is
added in this manner, the books tell us, so long as the mother-tree can
support its numerous progeny."
"How very strange!" said Clara. "The mulberry seems to have some very
funny relations."
"Such a great tree ought to bear very large figs," added Malcolm.
"On the contrary," replied his governess, "it bears uncommonly small
ones--no larger than a hazel-nut, and of a red color. They are not
considered eatable by the natives, but birds and animals feed upon them,
and in the leafy bower of the banyan are found the peacock, the monkey
and the squirrel. Here, too, are a myriad of pigeons as green as the
leaf and with eyes and feet of a brilliant red. They are so like the
foliage in color that they can be seen only by the practiced eye of the
hunter, and even he would fail to detect them were it not for their
restless movements. As they flutter about from branch to branch they are
apt to fall victims to his skill in shooting his arrows."
"If they would only keep still!" exclaimed Edith, who felt a strong
sympathy for the green pigeons. "Poor pretty things! Why don't they,
Miss Harson, instead of getting killed?"
"They do not know their danger until it is too late, and it is quite as
hard for them to keep still as it is for little girls."
Edith wondered if that meant her; she was a little girl, but she did not
think she was so very restless. However, Miss Harson didn't tell her,
and she soon forgot it in listening to what was said of the queer tree
with branches like snakes.
"The leaves of the banyan tree are large and soft and of a very bright
green, and the deep shade and pillared walks are so welcome to the Hindu
that he even tries to improve on Nature and coax the shoots to grow just
where he wishes them. He binds wet clay and moss on the branch to make
the rootlet sprout."
"Will it grow then?" asked Malcolm.
"Yes, just as a cutting planted in the earth will grow, although it
seems a very odd style of gardening.--The sacred fig tree of
India--_Ficus religiosa_--is a near relative of the banyan, and very
much like it in general appearance; but the leaves are on such slender
stalks that they tremble like those of the aspen. It is known as the bo
tree of Ceylon, and is said to have been placed in charge of the priests
long before the present race of inhabitants had appeared in the island."
"Where do the real figs grow?" asked Clara.
"In a great many moderately warm or sub-tropical countries," was the
reply, "but Smyrna figs are the most celebrated. Immense quantities of
the fruit are dried and packed in Asiatic Turkey for exportation from
this city, and it is said that in the fig season nothing else is talked
about there."
"I didn't know that they were dried," said Malcolm, in great surprise;
"I thought they were just packed tight in boxes and then sent off."
[Illustration: LEAF AND FRUIT OF THE FIG TREE.]
"'In its native country,'" read Miss Harson, "'and when growing on the
tree, the fig presents a different appearance from the dried and packed
specimens we see in this country. It is a firm and fleshy fruit, and
has a delicious honey-drop hanging from the point.' And here," she
added, "is a small branch from the fig tree, with fruit growing on it."
"Why, it's shaped like a pear!" exclaimed Malcolm.
"And what large, pretty leaves it has!" said Clara.
"'The fig tree is common in Palestine and the East,'" Miss Harson
continued to read, "'and flourishes with the greatest luxuriance in
those barren and stony situations, where little else will grow. Its
large size and its abundance of five-lobed leaves render it a pleasant
shade-tree, and its fruit furnishes a wholesome food very much used in
all the lands of the Bible.' Figs were among the fruits mentioned in the
'land that flowed with milk and honey,' and it was a symbol of peace and
plenty, as you will find, Malcolm, by reading to us from First Kings,
fourth chapter, twenty-fifth verse."
"'And Judah and Israel dwelt safely, every man under his vine and under
his fig tree, from Dan even to Beersheba, all the days of
Solomon.'--That's what it means, then!" said Malcolm, when he had
finished reading the verse. "I've heard people say, 'Under your own vine
and fig tree,' and I couldn't tell what they meant."
"Yes," replied his governess, "some persons make very free with the
words of Holy Scripture and twist them to suit meanings for which they
were not intended. Having a house of one's own is usually meant by this
quotation, and almost the same words are repeated in other parts of the
Old Testament. The fig is often mentioned in the Bible, and two kinds
are spoken of--the very early fig, and the one that ripens late in the
summer. The early fig was considered the best; and I think that Clara
will tell us what is said of it by the prophet Jeremiah."
Clara read slowly:
"'One basket had very good figs, _even like the figs that are first
ripe_; and the other basket had very naughty figs, which could not be
eaten, they were so bad[16].'"
[16] Jer. xxiv. 2.
"But can figs be naughty, Miss Harson?" asked Edith, with very
wide-open eyes. "I thought that only children were naughty,"
"There are 'naughty' grown people as well as naughty children," was the
reply, "and inanimate things like figs in old times were called naughty
too, in the sense of being bad.--The fruit of the fig tree appears not
only before the leaves, but without any sign of blossoms, the flowers
being small and hidden in the little buttons which first shoot out from
the points of the sterns, and around which the outer and firm part of
the fig grows. The leaves come out so late in the season that our
Saviour said, 'Now learn a parable of the fig tree; when his branch is
yet tender, and putteth forth leaves, ye know that summer is nigh[17].'
Did not our Lord say something else about a fig tree?"
[17] Matt. xxiv. 32.
"Yes," replied Clara; "the one that was withered away because it had no
figs on it."
"The barren fig tree which was withered at our Saviour's word, as an
awful warning to unfruitful professors of religion, seems to have spent
itself in leaves. It stood by the wayside, free to all, and, as the time
for stripping the trees of their fruit had not come--for in Mark we are
told that 'the time of figs was not yet[18]'--it was reasonable to
expect to find it covered with figs in various stages of growth. Yet
there was 'nothing thereon, but leaves only.' Find the nineteenth verse
of the twenty-first chapter of Matthew, Malcolm, and read what is
said there."
[18] Mark xi. 13.
"'And when he saw a fig tree in the way, he came to it, and found
nothing thereon, but leaves only, and said unto it, Let no fruit grow on
thee henceforward for ever. And presently the fig tree withered away.'"
"A fig tree having leaves," said Miss Harson, "should also have figs,
for these, as I have already told you, appear before the leaves, and
both are on the tree at the same time; so that, although unripe figs are
seen without leaves, leaves should not be seen without figs; and if it
was not yet the season for figs, it was not the season for leaves
either. The barren fig tree has often been compared to people who make a
show of goodness in words, but leave the doing of good works to others;
and when anything is expected of them, there is sure to be
disappointment. 'Nothing but leaves' has become a proverb; and when it
can be used to express the barren condition of those who profess to
follow the teachings of our Lord, it is sad indeed."
"Do fig trees grow wild?" asked Clara, presently.
"Yes," was the reply, "and very curious-looking things they are. 'Their
roots twist into all kinds of whimsical contortions, so as to look more
like a mass of snakes than the roots of a tree. They unite themselves so
closely to the substances that come in their way, such as the face of
rocks, or even the stems of other trees, that nothing can pull them
away. And in some parts of India these strong, tough roots are made to
serve the purpose of bridges and twisted over some stream or cataract.
The wild fig is often a dangerous parasite, and does not attain
perfection without completing some work of destruction among its
neighbors in the forest. A slender rootlet may sometimes be seen hanging
from the crown of a palm. The seed was carried there by some bird that
had fed upon the fruit of a wild fig, and it rooted itself with
surprising facility. The rootlet, as it descends, envelops the
column-like stem of the palm with a woody network, and at length reaches
the ground. Meanwhile, the true stem of the parasite shoots upward from
the crown of the palm. It sends out numberless rootlets, each of which,
as soon as it reaches the ground, takes root; and between them the palm
is stifled and perishes, leaving the fig in undisturbed possession. The
parasite does not, however, long survive the decline; for, no longer fed
by the juices of the palm, it also, in process of time, begins to
languish and decline.'"
"What a mean thing it is!" exclaimed Malcolm--"as mean as the cuckoo,
that lays its eggs in other birds' nests. And I'm glad it dies when it
has killed the palm tree; it just serves it right. But don't figs ever
grow in this country, Miss Harson?"
"Yes," replied his governess; "they are cultivated in the Southern
States and in California, like many other semi-tropical fruits, and are
principally eaten fresh, but for drying they are not equal to the
imported ones. No doubt the cultivation of figs in California will
become a prosperous trade, for the climate and circumstances there are
much like those of Syria."
[Illustration: DWARF FIG TREE IN A POT.]