BANG-PA-IN TO BANGKOK.--STUDIES IN NATURAL HISTORY AND BOTANY.
As they returned down the river the boat stopped at Bang-pa-in, to
enable the young tourists to have a view of the place. The name means,
"City on an Island," and is a literal description of the situation. The
island is not very wide in proportion to its length, and the boys found
that the beauties of the spot were quite up to the expectation they had
formed during their journey up the river. They walked through the
gardens, which were laid out with exquisite taste, and sat beneath the
trees, whose dense foliage afforded a grateful shade; they were shown
through the palace, found it furnished in European style, and their
sharp eyes caught sight of a piano, which gave a hint of the musical
taste of the king. The officer in charge of the place showed an album of
monograms which his majesty had arranged, and some pencil sketches that
were the work of the royal hands. The boys were consoled for the absence
of the king by the reflection that if he had been present the palace
would not have been open to visitors, and some of the interesting sights
of Bang-pa-in would have escaped them.
When they reached the landing to continue their journey, they found a
native boat along-side their own with fruits and other things to sell.
By direction of Doctor Bronson, the interpreter bought a selection of
what was in the market; and, as soon as they were again in motion, the
boys employed their eyes and palates in a scientific investigation of
the good things before them.
The first article that they discussed was a green cocoa-nut. Frank
wondered what use they could make of it, and Fred suggested that they
might keep it till it was ripe.
One of the servants speedily put an end to their suspense. With a
dexterity that was evidently the result of long practice, he cut away
the husk, and then made a hole in the shell of the nut large enough for
the easy insertion of one's thumb. The opening revealed the interior of
the nut, with a slight accumulation of white pulp close to the shell,
while all the rest of the enclosed space was filled with milk. When it
was thus prepared he handed the nut to Frank, and immediately opened
another, which he gave to Fred.
Frank laughed, and said, "What shall we do with it?"
"Drink the milk, and throw away the shell," replied the Doctor, as he
took one from the hands of the servant, and suited his action to his
words.
The boys did as they were directed, and the drink was followed by an
exclamation of delight.
[Illustration: COCOA-NUTS FULL GROWN AND JUST FORMING.]
They found the milk of the cocoa-nut a cool and refreshing beverage;
and, on the assurance of the consul that they might take all they wished
without fear of injury to their digestion, they proceeded with the
demolition of more and more nuts, until the basket was emptied. The
consul told them that the juice of the green cocoa-nut was a favorite
beverage throughout Siam, and was considered by some people as far safer
to drink than the water of the river.
"There is a good deal of vegetable matter in the river water," said he,
"and it is undoubtedly the cause of derangements of the stomach when
freely used. But the juice of the nut is pure and healthy, and its
slightly acid taste makes it welcome to the palate. It is cool, as you
have seen, and the acidity doubtless causes it to seem to be of a lower
temperature than the surrounding atmosphere."
[Illustration: THE BREAD-FRUIT.]
Fred asked if the famous bread-fruit was in the lot they had bought, and
was rather disappointed at its absence. But a bread-fruit tree was
pointed out to him as they floated down the river, and he made note of
the fact that it was about forty feet high, and had a leaf nearly two
feet long. The fruit resembled a large, very large apple, or perhaps a
small melon; and the Doctor told him that the outer husk furnished a
fibre like that of the cocoa-nut, which could be made into a sort of
coarse cloth.
The Doctor further explained that the bread-fruit was baked in the
shell, the same as an oyster is roasted, and that the inner pulp, when
thus cooked, resembled a sweet-potato in taste, and was very nutritious.
To the touch it was not unlike the soft part of a loaf of bread, and its
name was due to this latter quality rather than to its taste. "It
forms," said he, "the chief sustenance of the inhabitants of many of the
islands of the South Pacific Ocean, and is to be found nearly everywhere
in the tropics. It was introduced into the West Indies about a century
ago, and its cultivation has been very successful in that region; later
it was planted in Central America, and has become so well known and used
that the natives rely largely upon it for their food. The product of
three trees in some of the Pacific Islands will support a man for a
year; and it is no wonder that he becomes lazy when he has nothing to do
but pluck his food from a tree."
[Illustration: PINEAPPLE.]
When they had finished with the cocoa-nuts, they had a fine pineapple;
and they remarked that its freshness made it sweeter and better than any
pineapple they had ever eaten at home. Frank made a sketch of this
fruit, with its long and sharp-pointed leaves, and then he drew the
inside of a fruit which, for want of a better name, he called a
star-apple. It had a purple skin, and resembled an orange in shape and
size; the pulp was white, and, when it was cut across, the cells for the
seeds showed the exact form of a star. Fruit after fruit was cut, in the
hope that one would be found without the star; but the effort was a
complete failure.
[Illustration: STAR-APPLE.]
Of course they had oranges in abundance; and they had half a dozen
fruits whose names were quite unknown to them, but which were all
delicious. Fred lamented that the attempt to tell about the flavor of a
strange fruit was like trying to describe the song of a bird, or the
perfume of a flower. So they concluded that the best thing for them to
do was to eat the fruit and admire it; and if anybody wanted to know
what it was like, he would refer him to the article itself, and let him
judge of the quality.
[Illustration: A NEW KIND OF FRUIT.]
While seated on the deck of the boat, and engaged in testing the
peculiarities of an orange, Frank espied something on a tree that grew
close to the water. Thinking it might be a new kind of fruit, he called
the Doctor's attention to his discovery; the latter said the strange
thing was nothing more nor less than the nest of a bird, and would
hardly prove edible. Frank's illusion was broken, as the Doctor spoke,
by a small bird that hopped on a limb in front of the supposed fruit,
and at the same instant the head of another bird appeared from a hole in
the nest. Evidently the nest was constructed of cotton, or something of
the sort, as it was nearly snow-white in color; it hung from the limb,
so that it swayed in the wind, and it was not at all surprising that
Frank had mistaken it for a variety of fruit hitherto unknown to him.
[Illustration: TAILOR-BIRD AND NEST.]
"That nest is not so remarkable," said the Doctor, "as the one made by
the tailor-bird, an inhabitant of Siam and the tropical parts of India
and Malacca. It chooses a leaf on a small twig, and then proceeds to
puncture a row of holes along the edge with its beak, just as a
shoemaker uses an awl for making holes in a piece of leather. When it
has thus perforated the leaf, it takes a long fibre from a plant, and
passes it through the holes. The operation of sewing is imitated with
great exactness, and the fibre is pulled, like a thread, until the edges
of the leaf are drawn towards each other and form a hollow cone. If the
bird cannot find a single leaf large enough for its purpose, it sews
two leaves together; and instances have been known where three leaves
were used. When the framework of the nest is completed, the bird fills
the interior with the softest down it can gather from plants, and it
thus has a home which it is next to impossible to discover among the
leaves. There is another bird that lives near watercourses and marshes,
and constructs a nest by sewing the reeds and rushes together; but its
work is not so perfect as that of the tailor-bird, and does not entitle
him to equal credit."
Frank was anxious to obtain one of these nests as a curiosity, and was
gratified, on his return to Bangkok, to find one for sale in the hands
of a native. He bought it, and had it carefully packed, so that he could
send it home without fear of injury in the next box of curiosities they
should despatch to America.
From birds the conversation wandered to fishes, and the boys learned
something that caused their eyes to open with astonishment. Lest it
should be forgotten, it was entered in both their note-books, and read
as follows:
"There is a fish in Siam, and other parts of the East, that has the
remarkable peculiarity of going overland from one pond to another. When
the water where they are dries up, the fishes start for the nearest
pond, though it may be several miles away; and they propel themselves by
means of their fins, very much as a turtle drags himself with his feet.
Their instinct is unerring, and they have never been known to make a
mistake about heading for the water that is nearest. It is said that you
may take one of them up and turn him around half a dozen times, till he
is dizzy, but he will not lose his points of compass. When he is put
down again he takes the proper direction, and though you put him off the
track ever so many times, he always returns to it."
"We shall next hear, I suppose, that there are fishes that climb trees,"
Fred remarked, as he finished his note on the fishes that go overland.
"Quite possibly," Frank replied; "let us ask the Doctor."
They asked the question, and were taken somewhat aback when Doctor
Bronson answered in the affirmative.
[Illustration: A CLIMBING-FISH.]
"I don't know," said he, "if there are any fish in Siam that climb
trees, but there is one in Brazil that can perform this feat. He does
not ascend a perpendicular tree, but when he finds one that slopes at an
angle of about forty-five degrees, and has its roots in the water, he
will venture on an excursion in the air. His scales are very large, and
he works himself forward by a motion of the lower ones as they press
against the bark of the tree. He hugs the tree with his fins in order to
maintain his balance; his movements in climbing are very slow, and he
certainly appears to better advantage in the water, where he is a rapid
and graceful swimmer. You see that a fish out of water is not always
the unhappy creature he has been supposed to be by most persons."
"I heard somebody say one day," said Fred, "that oysters grow on trees
in some parts of the world. Is that really so?"
"Certainly," was the Doctor's answer; "they do grow on trees, but not in
the way you are naturally led to suppose."
"How is it, then, Doctor?" queried Frank.
"It is quite simple when you understand it," was the response. "The
spawn of the oyster floats in the water, and attaches itself to the
first thing with which it comes in contact. It frequently happens that,
at high-tide, the water comes up a little way on the trunk of a tree, or
it may be that a limb of a tree hangs in the water. The oyster-spawn is
attached to the trunk or limb, as the case may be, and when the tide
goes away it remains there. It has enough vitality to live until the
tide comes again; it retains its hold, and in course of time becomes an
oyster growing on a tree. He could not live altogether without water,
but he can easily get along during the intervals of the tides. He does
not grow on a tree like an apple or an orange, but he certainly makes
the tree his home."
"Do they have oysters in Siam?" one of the boys asked.
"Oysters grow in the Gulf of Siam," was the reply; "but they are not
equal to those of the Atlantic coast of the United States. As for that
matter, no oysters in any part of the world can or do equal ours; at
least in the opinion of residents of the United States. Here in the East
Indies they have some very large oysters; there is one variety that
often attains a weight of three hundred pounds; it is not good for
anything, however, and you never hear a man in a restaurant calling for
a dozen of this variety on the half-shell.
"Naturalists have described about sixty varieties of oysters in
different parts of the world, and it is said that more than two hundred
species of fossil oysters have been found by geologists. Most of these
forms are now extinct, and, therefore, we have no way of determining
whether all of them have been good to eat or otherwise. It is often
remarked that the first man who ate an oyster must have been very brave,
and it is a pity that his name has not come down to us. One version of
the story is that he thrust his fingers into an open shell which he saw
lying on the sea-shore; the oyster was angry at this intrusion, and
immediately closed on the fingers, very much to the man's astonishment.
It required a great deal of wrenching to liberate them from the shell,
and they were somewhat injured in the operation; the man naturally put
his fingers in his mouth to relieve the pain, and in so doing he learned
the taste of the oyster. Having learned it, he immediately smashed the
shell with a stone and devoured the contents, and he continued to eat
oysters till he had made a hearty meal. Always after that, when he was
hungry, he went to the oyster-bank and satisfied his appetite, and from
being thin as a skeleton he grew fat and rosy. His neighbors noted the
change, and one day when he was proceeding stealthily to his favorite
retreat they watched him and found his secret. When it was once out, the
news spread with great rapidity, and thus was inaugurated the habit of
eating the oyster. When this occurred no one knows; but the fact is that
the ancient Romans and Greeks were fond of the oyster, and esteemed it
greatly as an article of food.
"Another remarkable fact is--"
Before the Doctor could finish the sentence, Frank sprung to his feet in
an excited manner, and pointed to a tree that stood not twenty feet from
the bank of the river.
"See that great snake!" he shouted; "and see that squirrel in front of
him!"
[Illustration: THE SNAKE AND THE SQUIRREL.]
A snake was coiled around the limb of the tree with his neck bent, and
his head slowly waving in the air. His body glistened in the sunlight as
it played on his scales, and Frank fancied he could see the fire darting
from his eyes. A foot or so in front of him was a squirrel, sitting on
his haunches, and with his tail erect; his eyes were fixed on the
serpent, and he was chattering wildly, and as if greatly alarmed.
While they looked at the strange spectacle, the head of the snake was
darted forward, and in an instant the poor little squirrel was
transfixed by the deadly fangs. Frank wished they had been able to save
the squirrel by killing the snake, but his wishing was of no avail, as
they were moving down the stream; and, besides, they had no fire-arms
with which the serpent could have been disturbed in his retreat up the
tree.
"I suppose the squirrel was charmed by the snake," said Fred, as soon as
they had passed out of sight of the tree.
"As to that," replied Doctor Bronson, "there is much dispute. Many
persons who have studied the subject are positive that snakes have the
power of charming or fascinating small birds and animals; and others,
who have studied it quite as much, deny that any such power exists. I
have heard so much on both sides, that I am not able to form a positive
opinion. I am inclined, however, to believe that the power is possessed
by certain snakes, as I have seen manifestations of it, or something
very like it. When I was a boy in the country, I one day saw a large
black snake in an apple-tree on my uncle's farm. A bird was hopping
around on the limbs in great alarm, as I judged by his twitterings; he
seemed to be terribly afraid of the snake, and at the same time unable
to get away from him. I watched his movements for nearly half an hour,
and observed that each time the bird moved he came nearer to the snake;
and the performance ended by his lighting on a branch within a foot of
where the latter was coiled. Then the snake darted his head forward and
seized the bird, precisely as you saw that scaly fellow, a few moments
ago, seize the squirrel.
"Exactly what the process of charming is, if it really exists, it is
difficult to say. Probably the victim is paralyzed, to some extent, by
the horrible appearance of the serpent, and deprived of the use of his
limbs. If you suddenly come in contact with a ferocious wild beast, or
some terrible danger is presented to you, it is not at all improbable
that you will be unable to move from sheer fright. I am inclined to
believe that the fascination of birds and small mammals by serpents is
something of this sort, but I confess my inability to explain why the
victim, in moving around, comes every moment nearer to his destroyer, as
though he could not remove his eyes, however much he might wish to do
so."
"If you travel around much in Siam," the consul remarked, "you will find
all the snakes you care to see. It is not unusual to see them swimming
in the river; and in the rainy season they frequently get into the
houses, particularly those that float on the water. Most of them are
harmless, but there are some poisonous ones, including the famous _cobra
di capella_."
Frank thought he would prefer not to live in a floating house, for the
present at least; and his opinion was shared by Fred. They were not at
all enamored of the idea of having an intimate association with the
wandering snakes of Siam.
[Illustration: MONKEYS AT HOME.]
"I think," said the Doctor, "that if you were compelled to select some
of the inhabitants of the Siamese forests as your companions, you would
prefer monkeys to snakes. In the region north of here you could find an
abundance of them, and of all sizes; they run wild in the forests, and
sometimes are found in large droves. They are sociable beings, and very
fond of each other's society; and if one of them gets into trouble, his
companions are quite likely to come to his relief. A friend of mine was
out hunting one day, and saw a monkey on a tree where a fair chance for
a shot was presented. He fired and wounded the monkey, who immediately
set up a piteous howl; in a few minutes dozens of monkeys were around
him, and they seemed to understand that my friend was the cause of the
trouble. He fled, and they pursued him; he fired his gun to frighten
them, and, after knocking several of them over, he reached an open space
of country, and was allowed to go on undisturbed. If he had been without
his gun he would not have escaped so easily.
[Illustration]
"Monkeys have a good many enemies besides man. Wild beasts devour them,
and occasionally snakes manage to take them in; the fellows are so
active that they can only be captured by strategy, or their own
carelessness and curiosity; and they often fall victims to the
last-named quality. A tiger will lie down and pretend to be dead; the
monkeys see him, and draw near to investigate. They approach cautiously,
stop frequently, and do a deal of chattering. If the tiger stirs a
muscle, they take the alarm at once and are off; but if he lies
perfectly still, they are sure, in a little while, to come so close that
one of the boldest will venture to pluck at his hide. As he does so he
jumps several feet to one side, and if the tiger should rouse himself he
would be baffled of his prey. He continues to lie as if dead; and
finally the monkeys, believing he is really nothing but a carcass,
proceed to sit on him and hold a coroner's inquest. Now is the tiger's
chance; and with a sudden spring he has one of the fattest in his jaws,
while the rest scamper away to the forest.
[Illustration]
"Another enemy of the monkey is the eagle. When the monkeys are playing
in the branches of a tree the eagle swoops down with great rapidity, and
carries one of the party off in his powerful claws. Often there is a
fearful struggle in the air, as the monkey is not inclined to die
without a protest; and as he has a great deal of strength, and is full
of activity, he occasionally comes off victorious and escapes, though he
may be killed by the fall from the height where the eagle drops him. A
gentleman of my acquaintance once witnessed the capture of a monkey by
an eagle; the eagle fastened his claws in the back of the monkey, and,
though the latter struggled violently, his hold was not once broken. The
eagle flew to the top of a distant tree, where he undoubtedly devoured
his victim at his leisure.
[Illustration: EAGLE CAPTURING A MONKEY.]
"In seizing a monkey, the eagle always endeavors to grasp him by the
back and neck, one claw being in the neck, and the other farther down.
The reason of this is that, unless the monkey is firmly held by the
neck, he will turn his head and inflict a terrible bite on his
assailant; but as long as the neck is thus held he is powerless. It is
said that the first thing the eagle does, after taking a monkey, is to
put out his eyes with his powerful beak; but in so doing he is in danger
of having his head seized by the monkey's paws."
"On the whole," said Frank, "I don't think I care about forming an
intimate acquaintance with the monkey."
Fred was of the same opinion, and the subject of conversation was
changed.