_HOME AND ABROAD: LINDEN, CAMPHOR, BEECH_.
"Now," said Miss Harson to her expectant flock, "it is to be hoped that
our foreign wanderings among such wonderful trees have not spoiled you
for home trees, as there are still a number of them which we have not
yet examined."
"No indeed!" they assured her; "they liked to hear about them all, and
they were going to try and remember everything she told them about
the trees."
Their governess said that would be too much to expect, and if they
remembered the most important things she would be quite satisfied,
"We will take the linden, lime, or basswood, tree--for it has all three
of these names--this evening," she continued, "and there are nine or ten
species of the tree, which are found in America, Europe and Western
Asia. It is a very handsome, regular-looking tree with rich, thick
masses of foliage that make a deep shade. The leaves are heart-shaped
and very finely veined, have sharply-serrated edges and are four or five
inches long. The leaf-stalk is half the length of the leaf. It blooms
in July and August, and the flowers are yellowish white and very
fragrant; when an avenue of limes is in blossom, the whole atmosphere is
filled with a delightful perfume which can hardly be described."
[Illustration: THE LINDEN OR LIME TREE (_Tilia_).]
"There are no lime trees here, are there?" asked Clara.
"No," was the reply, "I do not think there are any in this neighborhood;
but they grow abundantly not many miles away. Our native trees are not
so pretty as the English lime, which, clothed with softer foliage, has a
smaller leaf and a neater and more elegant spray. Ours bears larger and
more conspicuous flowers, in heavier clusters, but of inferior
sweetness. Both species are remarkable for their size and longevity. The
young leaves of the lime are of a bright fresh tint that contrasts
strongly with the very dark color of the branches; and these branches
are so finely divided that their beauty is seen to the greatest
advantage when winter has stripped them bare of leaves.
"'The linden has in all ages been celebrated for the fragrance of its
flowers and the excellence of the honey made from them. The famous
Mount Hybla was covered with lime trees. The aroma from its flowers is
like that of mignonette; it perfumes the whole atmosphere, and is
perceptible to the inhabitants of all the beehives within a circuit of a
mile. The real linden honey is of a greenish color and delicious taste
when taken from the hive immediately after the trees have been in
blossom, and is often sold for more than the ordinary kind. There is a
forest in Lithuania that abounds in lime trees, and here swarms of wild
bees live in the hollow trunks and collect their honey from the lime.'"
[Illustration: LEAF AND FLOWER OF LIME TREE _(Tilia)._]
"What fun it would be, if we were there, to go and get it!" exclaimed
Malcolm. "But don't bees make honey from the lime trees that grow in
this country, too, Miss Harson?"
"Certainly they do; and the beekeepers look anxiously forward to the
blossoming of the trees, because they provide such abundant supplies for
the busy swarms. The flowers have other uses, too, besides the making of
honey: the Swiss are said to obtain a favorite beverage from them, and
in the South of France an infusion of the blossoms is taken for colds
and hoarseness, and also for fever. 'Active boys climb to the topmost
branches and gather the fragrant flowers, which their mothers catch in
their aprons for that purpose. An avenue of limes has been ravaged and
torn in pieces by the eagerness of the people to gather the blossoms,
and they are often made into tea which is a soft sugary beverage in
taste a little like licorice.'"
"How queer," said Clara, "to make tea from flowers!"
"Is it any queerer," asked her governess, "than to make it from leaves?
I should think that the flowers might even be better, and yet I should
scarcely like lime-tea that tastes like licorice."
The children, though, seemed to think that they would like it, and Miss
Harson had very little doubt that such would be the case.
"Both the bark and the wood of the lime tree are valuable," she
continued. "The fibres of the bark are strong and firm, and make
excellent ropes and cordage. In Sweden and Russia they are made into a
kind of matting that is very useful for packing-purposes and in
protecting delicate plants from the frost. 'The manufacture of this
useful material is carried on in the summer, close by the woods and
forests where the lime trees grow in abundance. As soon as the sap
begins to ascend freely the bark parts from the wood and can be taken
away with ease. Great strips are then peeled off and steeped in water
until they separate into layers; the layers are still further divided
into smaller strips or ribbons, and are hung up in the shade of the
wood, generally on the very tree itself from which they have been taken.
After a time they are woven into the matting and sent to market for
sale. The Swedish fishermen also manufacture it into a coarse thread for
fishing-nets, and from the fibres of the young shoots the Russian
peasant makes the strong shoes he wears, using the outer bark for the
soles. In Italy the garments of the poorer people are often made of
cloth woven from this material."
"Why, people can fairly _live_ on trees," said Malcolm. "I didn't know
that they were good for anything but shade--except the trees that have
fruit and nuts on 'em."
"There is a great deal for us all to learn of the works of the Creator,"
replied Miss Harson, "and the blessing of trees is not half known. The
wood of the lime is said never to be worm-eaten; it is very soft and
smooth and of a pale-yellow color. It is used for the famous Tunbridge
ware, and is called the carver's tree, because, as the poet says,
"'Smooth linden best obeys
The carver's chisel--best his curious work
Displays in nicest touches.'
"The fruits and flowers carved for the choir of St. Paul's cathedral in
London are done in lime-wood.
"So numerous are the purposes to which the bark, wood, leaves and
blossoms of the lime, or linden, tree can be applied that centuries ago
it was called the tree of a thousand uses. Linden is the name by which
it is always known on the continent of Europe, and there it is indeed a
magnificent tree, forming the most delightful avenues and branching
colonnades. One of the principal streets in Berlin is called 'Unter den
Linden.' In the Middle Ages, when the Swiss and the Flemings were always
struggling for liberty, it was their custom to plant a lime tree on the
field of battle, and many of these old trees still remain and have been
the subject of ballads and poetical effusions:
"'The stately lime, smooth, gentle, straight and fair.'"
"Is there any story about it, Miss Harson?"
"No," was the reply, "not much of a story; only descriptions of some
very large and very ancient trees. One of these, the old linden tree of
Soleure, in Switzerland, was spoken of by an English traveler two
hundred years ago as 'right noble and wondrous to behold. A bower
composed of its branches is capable of holding three hundred persons
sitting at ease; it has also a fountain set about with many tables
formed solely of the boughs, to which men ascend by steps; and all is
kept so accurately and thick that the sun never looks into it.'"
"It is just like a tent," said Malcolm, "it must be pleasant to sit by
the fountain. Wouldn't you like it, Miss Harson?"
"I am sure I should," replied his governess; "and I should also like to
see the famous lime tree of Zurich, the boughs of which will shelter
five hundred persons. At Augsburg, in Germany, feasts and weddings have
often been celebrated under the shade of some venerable limes that
branch out to an immense distance. In early times divine honors were
paid to them as emblems of immortality. And now," said Miss Harson, "the
last of these famous trees is a noble lime tree which grew on the farm
belonging to the ancestors of Linnaeus, the great naturalist, beneath
the shade of which he played in childhood, and from which his ancestors
derived their surname. That noble tree still blossoms from year to year,
beautiful in every change of seasons."
"Lime, linden and basswood," said Clara--"three names to remember for
one tree. But didn't you say, Miss Harson, that it's always called
basswood in our country?"
"Often, but not always. The name linden is quite common with us, and it
will be well for you to remember that it is also called lime, so that
when you go to Europe you will know what is meant by _lime_ and
_linden_."
The children laughed at this idea, for it seemed very funny to think of
a little girl like Clara going to Europe, but, as their governess told
them, little girls did go constantly; besides, this was the time to
learn what would be of use to them when they were grown.
"The fragrant lime," said Miss Harson, "has a relative in Asia whose
acquaintance I wish you to make, and you know it already in one of its
products, which is common in every household. It is also very
fragrant--or rather, I should say, it has a strong aromatic odor which
is very reviving in cases of faintness or illness, although it has quite
a contrary effect on insects, particularly on mosquitoes. I should like
to have some one tell me what this white, powerful substance is."
This was quite a conundrum, and for a little while the children were
extremely puzzled over its solution; but presently Clara asked,
"Do the moths hate it too, Miss Harson? And isn't it camphor?"
"Camphor doesn't grow on a _tree_," said Malcolm, in a superior tone;
"it is dug out of the earth."
"I have never read of any camphor-mines," replied his governess,
laughing, "and I think you will find that camphor--which is just what I
meant--is obtained from the trunk of a tree."
"Like India-rubber?" asked Edith.
"No, dear, not like India-rubber, for it grows in even a more curious
way than that, masses of it being found in the trunk of the camphor
tree--not in the form of sap, but in lumps, as we use it."
"I thought it was like water," said Edith, in a puzzled tone.
"So it is when dissolved in alcohol, as we generally have it; but it is
also used in lumps to drive away moths and for various other purposes.
But I will tell you all about the tree, which grows in the islands of
Sumatra and Borneo and bears the botanical name _Dryobalanops camphora_.
The camphor is also called _barus_ camphor, to distinguish it from the
_laurus_, of which I will tell you afterward, and it is of a better
quality and more easily obtained. The tree grows in the forests of
these East Indian islands and is remarkable for its majestic size, dense
foliage and magnolia-like flowers. The trunk rises as high as ninety
feet without a single branch, and within it are cavities, sometimes a
foot and a half long, which cannot be perceived until the bark is split
open. These cavities contain the camphor in clear crystalline masses,
and with it an oil known as camphor oil, that is thought by some to be
camphor in an immature form. But the oil, even when crystallized by
artificial means, does not produce such good camphor as that already
solidified in the tree."
"To think," exclaimed Clara, "of camphor growing in that way! But how do
they get it out, Miss Harson? Do they cut great holes in the trunk of
the tree?"
"No, dear; I have just read to you that the camphor cannot be seen until
the bark is split open, and the grand trees have to be cut down. But to
do this is no easy matter. The hard, close-grained timber requires days
of hewing and sawing to get it severed. The masses of roots are as
unyielding as iron, and run twisting through the soil to the distance
of sixty yards. Even at their farthest extremity they are as thick as a
man's thigh."
"I shouldn't think the camphor was worth all that trouble," said
Malcolm; "it don't seem to amount to much, any wary."
"It is more valuable than you suppose," replied Miss Harson; "for,
besides preserving furs and woolen fabrics from the devouring moth, it
protects the contents of cabinets and museums from the attacks of the
minute creatures that prey upon the dried specimens of the naturalist.
Not any of the insect tribe can endure the powerful scent of the
camphor, and they either retreat before it or are killed by it. But its
principal value is in medicine. It is used both internally and
externally. It acts as a nervous stimulant, and is a favorite domestic
remedy.--So you see, Malcolm, that camphor really amounts to a great
deal, and we could not very well do without it."
"How can people tell when there is any camphor inside the tree?" asked
Clara.
"They cannot tell," was the reply, "until the trunk is split open,
although a tribe of men in Sumatra say that they know before-hand, by a
kind of magic, which is the right tree to cut down. But the beautiful,
stately tree is often wasted in vain, and after all their hard work the
camphor-seekers find the cavities of the split-up trunk filled with a
thick black substance like pitch instead of the pure white camphor."
"Poor things!" said Edith, pityingly; "that's too bad."
"Camphor is found in many trees and shrubs," continued her governess,
"but in all others except the camphor tree of Sumatra and Borneo it has
to be distilled from the wood and roots. The camphor-laurel, which is
about the size of an English oak, is the most important of these trees.
It grows abundantly in the Chinese island of Formosa, and 'camphor
mandarin' is the title of a rich Chinaman who pays the government for
the privilege of extracting all the camphor, which he sends to other
countries at a large profit. Every part of this tree is full of camphor,
and the tree gives out, when bruised, a strong perfume.
"The European bay tree, which is more like an immense shrub, is also a
member of this singular tribe, and its leaves have the strong family
flavor. They were used in medicine, as well as the berries, before the
camphor-laurel became known in Europe; in the time of Queen Elizabeth
the floors of the better sort of houses were strewed with bay-leaves
instead of being carpeted as now. The bay was an emblem of victory in
old Roman times, and victorious generals were crowned with it. A wreath
of this laurel, with the berries on, was placed on the head of a
favorite poet in the Middle Ages, and in this way came the title
'poet-laureate'--_laureatus_,' crowned with laurel.'
"Do you remember," continued Miss Harson, "the tall, straight tree that
I showed you yesterday when we were out in the woods--the one with a
fluted trunk? What was its name?"
"I know!" said Malcolm, quite excited. "Think of the seashore! Beach!
That's what I told myself to remember."
[Illustration: AMERICAN BEECH.]
"A very good idea," replied his governess, laughing; "only you must not
spell it with an _a_, like the seashore, for it is _b-e-e-c-h._--The
fluted, or ribbed, shaft of this grand-looking tree is often sixty or
seventy feet high, and, although it is found in its greatest perfection
in England, it is a common tree in most of the woods in this country.
For depth of shade no tree is equal to the beech, and its long beautiful
leaves, with their close ridges and serrated edges, are very much like
those of the chestnut. The leaves are of a light, fresh green and very
neat and perfect, because they are so seldom attacked by insects; they
remain longer on the branches than those of any deciduous tree, and
give a cheerful air to the wood in winter. In the autumn they change to
a light yellow-brown, which makes a pretty contrast to the reds and
greens and purples of other trees. The branches start out almost
straight from the tree, but they very soon curve and turn regularly
upward. Every small twig turns in the same direction, making the long
leaf-buds at the end look like so many little spears. I showed you these
'stuck-up' buds when we were looking at the tree, and you noticed how
different they were from the other trees."
Yes, the children remembered it; and it always seemed to them
particularly nice to have part of the talk out of doors and the rest in
the house.
"Doesn't the beech tree have nuts?" asked Malcolm. "John says it does."
"Yes," replied Miss Harson; "it has tiny three-cornered nuts which seem
particularly small for so large a tree. But these nuts are eagerly
devoured by pigeons, partridges and squirrels. Bears are said to be very
fond of them, and swine fatten very rapidly upon them. Most varieties
are so small as not to repay the trouble of gathering, drying and
opening them. Fortunately, this is not the case with all, as it is a
delicious nut. In France the beech-nut is much used for making oil,
which is highly valued for burning in lamps and for cooking. In parts of
the same country the nuts, roasted, serve as a substitute for coffee."
"I'd like to find some when they're ripe," said Clara, "if they _are_
little."
"We will have a search for them, then," was the reply, "when the time
comes.--The flowers which produce these little nuts are very showy and
grow in roundish tassels, or heads, which hang by thread-like, silky
stalks, one or two inches long, from the midst of the young leaves of a
newly-opened bud. A traveler says of these leaves, 'We used always to
think that the most luxurious and refreshing bed was that which prevails
universally in Italy, and which consists entirely of a pile of
mattresses filled with the luxuriant spathe of the Indian corn; which
beds have the advantage of being soft as well as elastic, and we have
always found the sleep enjoyed on them to be particularly sound and
restorative. But the beds made of beech-leaves are really no whit behind
them in these qualities, whilst the fragrant smell of green tea, which
the leaves retain, is most gratifying. The objection to them is the
slight crackling noise which the leaves occasion as the individual turns
in bed, but this is no inconvenience at all; or if so in any degree, it
is an inconvenience which is overbalanced by the advantages of this most
luxurious couch."
"But how funny," said Malcolm, "to sleep on leaves! That's what the
Babes in the Wood did."
"No," replied Clara, very earnestly, "they didn't sleep _on_ leaves, you
know; but when they had laid down and gone to sleep, the robins came and
covered them with leaves."
"Yes," chimed in little Edith; "I like that way best, because they'd be
so cold in the woods."
"And that really was the case," said Miss Harson, after listening with a
smile to this discussion, "although there were probably leaves on the
ground for the children to lie upon. A bed of leaves is not a bad thing
where there are no mattresses, and such a bed is often used as a matter
of course. You will remember my reading to you about the beds which the
Finland mothers make for their children of the leaves of the
canoe-birch. 'Leafy beds' are no strange thing--not mere poetry."