from the blue Mediterranean. Almonds are raised in most parts of
southern Europe and in the northern part of Africa. Ages ago they grew
in the Holy Land, and are mentioned in the Bible."
"Do almonds grow in any part of our country?" asked Helen.
"I think they grow in California," said Frank.
"You are right," said Uncle John. "There are many almond orchards in the
southern part of the state.
"An almond tree in full bloom is a beautiful sight. The blossoms are
white, tinted with pink, and as they appear before the leaves do, there
is nothing to hide them."
[Illustration: FIG. 63.--Almond Trees in Full Bloom.]
"Does the nut have a covering?" inquired Mary.
"Yes," replied Uncle John. "When the nut is ripe, the shuck opens
gradually, and sometimes the nuts fall out.
"When people have large orchards, they spread pieces of canvas under
the trees and then shake them or beat them by means of long poles.
"The nuts that do not fall out of the shucks are obtained by opening the
shuck with a knife. The nuts are then dried, and are ready for market."
As soon as Uncle John had finished, Mary handed him a hazelnut. "Please
tell about this one," said she.
"I have often gone hazel nutting when I was a boy," said her uncle.
"Hazelnuts grow on bushes in thickets. They are six or eight feet high
and very slender. Baskets are sometimes made of them, and I have often
used them for arrows.
"Sometimes the nuts grow singly, and sometimes in groups of two or
three. A bur covers the nut, which sticks very closely until it is ripe.
Then the nuts often fall out.
"After I had gathered the hazelnuts, I used to spread them out on the
roof of the wood house to dry."
"Nuts that look just like these are called filberts," said Helen.
"Filberts are cultivated hazelnuts," replied Uncle John; "they are
larger than the wild ones."
"I would like to know how this nut grows," said Helen, handing her uncle
a black nut shaped like a triangular prism.
"This," said Uncle John, "came from Brazil, and is called a Brazil nut.
Do you know where Brazil is?"
"It is in the northeastern part of South America," replied Helen.
"The great Amazon River is in Brazil, and it flows through tropical
forests," said Mary.
"Much of our coffee comes from Brazil," said Frank.
Uncle John then told the children that Brazil nuts come from the
northern part of Brazil and from the Orinoco valley.
Helen asked if they grow as walnuts and hickory nuts do.
"No," answered her uncle, "they grow inside of a great case or shell.
There are from eighteen to twenty-five in one shell, which is nearly as
large as a man's head."
"How are the nuts got out of the shells?" asked Mary.
"When they fall, men break them open and take out the nuts," replied
Uncle John. "Most of them are sent down the Amazon to the city of Para
and from there shipped to the United States and other countries."
None of the children knew where Para is situated, so they all went to
the library to look at the atlas. After they had located it, Uncle John
told them of his visit to the city and of the wonderful things which he
saw on a steamboat trip up the Amazon River.
A STRANGE CONVERSATION
One evening after I had been reading for some time, I went to the
kitchen to get a drink of water. That part of the house was dark and
quiet, and as I stepped through the doorway, I heard low, musical
voices, apparently in the pantry. I was very much surprised, you may be
sure, and I kept perfectly still, and listened.
"Yes," said a voice, which I could barely hear, "I am a long way from
home indeed, and sometimes it makes me quite lonely when I think of it."
"Tell us about your home, and how you lived," said another low voice.
"Well," began the first speaker, "my name is _Pepper_. With twenty-five
or thirty brothers and sisters I grew in a cluster on a vine. We were
but a small part of the family, for there were similar clusters all over
our vine. We were about as large as peas, and grew somewhat after the
fashion of currants.
"All about were other vines to which friends and relatives were
attached. Pepper vines are always anxious to get to the top, and so some
of these vines climbed trees and some twined themselves about poles,
which men had set in the ground for this purpose. Our vine was three or
four years old when we appeared on it."
"How long did you live on the vine?" asked a voice that I had not heard
before.
"Only a few months," replied Pepper. "You see, we had to make room for
another set of berries. Two sets appear each year for twenty years or
more.
"Under the influence of the tropical sunshine and the warm rains we grew
day by day, and we were as happy as the butterflies and birds about us.
By and by we began to turn red. All of this time a _hull_ or coat was
forming on the outside of our bodies.
"Before we became entirely red, workmen came to the field, and, by
rubbing us between their hands, separated us from the stems to which we
lovingly clung.
"After having been picked, I was, with many others, placed upon a mat to
dry. These mats were all about us, each covered with berries. After
being thoroughly dried we were put into a mill and ground, and I became
what I am now, _Black Pepper_."
"Are there other kinds of pepper?" asked some one.
"Oh, yes," said Pepper, "there is _White Pepper_, and _Red_, or _Cayenne
Pepper_. Some of my friends were made into White Pepper. They were
soaked in limewater for about two weeks, and this, of course, softened
and wrinkled their hulls which had always fitted so nicely. This was bad
enough, but it was not the worst."
"What happened next?" said several voices.
"They were then," continued Pepper, "trodden under the bare feet of
dark-skinned men, and this rubbed off their hulls completely. After this
they were ground as we had been.
"Cayenne Pepper is not a member of our family at all, although it has
the same name. I have looked up its genealogy, and I find that it
received its name from the city of Cayenne, in French Guiana, near which
it grows. It is in the form of bell-shaped pods, and grows on low, bushy
plants instead of vines.
"The pods are green at first, but red when ripe. No doubt you have seen
strings of them hanging in the grocery store when you were on the
shelves. People sometimes use the pods as they are, but usually they are
dried, ground, mixed with yeast, and baked into flat cakes like
crackers. When these cakes are ground, Red, or Cayenne Pepper, is
produced. It is put up in little boxes just as we are.
"Pepper used to be regarded as a great luxury," the speaker went on.
"Until the eighteenth century the Portuguese handled almost all of it.
It was not uncommon for rents to be paid with pepper. If any of you have
read ancient history, you know that when Alaric took Rome he demanded,
among other things, one thousand pounds of pepper as a ransom.
"My home was in the East Indies," said Pepper, "but there are members
of our family living in the Philippines, India, Mexico, the West Indies,
and other tropical countries."
"Your story is a very interesting one," said a voice, "and now, if you
care to hear it, I will tell something of my life."
"Yes, do tell us," said several at once.
"Very well, I will follow the example of our friend Pepper and introduce
myself at once. I am known as Ginger. I have relatives living in China,
in India, and in the western part of Africa, but I came from the West
Indies. The Ginger family is not like that of Pepper; it has no lofty
notions."
Pepper seemed a little inclined to get angry, so Ginger hastened to say:
"I mean that our vines do not climb trees or poles, but run along the
ground. I was a _root_ and not a _fruit_."
"When I was about a year old I, with countless friends, was dug from the
ground. We were cut from the vines and put into vats of scalding water."
"That was _dreadful_," said Pepper.
"We were treated in that way to prevent us from _sprouting_," continued
Ginger. "After being taken out of the water, we were thoroughly dried
and then ground. We were then put up in cans and boxes and sold as
_Black Ginger_. Others were scraped before being ground, and they were
then called _White Ginger_.
"We were placed on board a great ship and finally landed at New York.
After remaining in a large store there for some time, I was brought to
the corner grocery, and so I found my way to this shelf.
"I am gradually wasting away, and I shall not last a great while longer.
In my tropical home I seemed to be of no use to anybody, while now I am
called for frequently by the cook, and my services seem to be
appreciated, so I am happy."
"To be of some real use in this world is the greatest joy of life,"
remarked a strange voice.
There was silence for a moment, and then Ginger said "May we not hear
from you, friend?"
"Your stories almost make me believe that I am still in the land of my
birth," was the reply.
There was a peculiar little rattle about the voice, which I recognized
at once as belonging to Cinnamon.
"For several years I was rocked to and fro by gentle tropic breezes or
lashed about by storms. From my perch I could see beautiful flowers,
bright insects, and even serpents in the thicket at my feet. Birds of
brilliant plumage often perched upon me. My home was on the island of
Ceylon.
"It is often said that where there is much bark there is no bite. In my
own case that is not so."
"I do not understand," said Ginger.
"Why," said Cinnamon, laughing, "I am _all_ bark, and I have
considerable bite, as those who have tasted me know.
"I was taken from one of the smaller limbs of a cinnamon tree. I was
slipped within a larger piece of bark, for we each rolled up when
stripped from the limbs. A still larger piece was slipped over us and so
on until quite a bundle had been formed. Some were quite short, and some
were three feet in length."
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End of Project Gutenberg's How We are Fed, by James Franklin Chamberlain