CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XIV.

_Continuation of the preceding chapter, and more discoveries._

Conversing on different subjects, we reached the long chain of

rocks, over which our pretty Falcon Stream made its escape in

the form of a cascade, whose gentle murmurs delighted the ear,

as much as its wild and various aspect gratified the eye. We

kept along the chain of rocks which led to Jackall’s River, and

from thence to Tent House, having first, with difficulty, pushed

through the high grass which presented itself in our path. Our

fatigue, however, was relieved by the uncommon beauty of the

scenery around; on the right hand was a boundless sea; on the

left, the island, with the bay by which it was accessible, and

the chain of rocks, presenting altogether, an assemblage of the

picturesque, equal to what the liveliest fancy could desire.

The view reminded me of the large flower-stands common in Europe;

the shelvings, the projections, the cornices of which, instead of

pots of flowers, were covered with plants most rare and contrasted,

and in a vigorous state of vegetation. In the greatest number

of these, were distinguishable the different families of grasses,

many of them of the thorn-leaved species, and more flourishing

than those which are cultivated in the green-houses of Europe.

There was also in abundance the Indian fig, with its large broad

leaf; aloes of different forms and colours; the superb prickly

candle, or cactus, bearing straight stalks, taller than a man,

and crowned with long straight branches, forming a sort of star.

The broad plantain spread along the rocks its innumerable boughs

twisted with each other, hanging down perpendicularly, and ornamented

with flowers, which grew in large tufts, and were of the brightest

rose-colour; while that which pleased us best, and which was

found there in great abundance, was the king of fruits, both

for figure and relish, the crowned pine-apple. We immediately

fell on this fruit with avidity, because we knew its value and

its innocence, and because it was fit to be eaten without any

further preparation than merely gathering it. The monkey was

not the last to seize one for himself; and as he could make higher

jumps than the boys, they formed the scheme of making him angry

by little tricks, so as to induce him to fling pine-apples at

them. This game they continued so long, that I thought it prudent

to interrupt them, fearing that the unripe state of the fruit

might affect their health. My wife and I ate one or two with

great pleasure; and after bestowing the commendations so fine

a fruit deserved, we agreed that we would frequently return to

the place, and eat them as a dessert.

Soon after, I was fortunate enough to discover, among the multitude

of plants which grew either at the foot or in the clefts of the

rock, the karata (the Bromelia Karata of Linnæus), many of which

were now in blossom, and of others the flowers had lately fallen

off. They resembled young trees; and travellers have given so

perfect a description of them in their books of natural history,

that it was impossible I should mistake them. But what further

confirmed their identity, was their straight slender stalk, crowned

with blossoms, and proceeding from a tuft of leaves like the

pine-apple, with its large foliage terminating in a sharp point,

and forming altogether, a plant remarkably pleasing to the eye.

I pointed out to the boys the immense size of these leaves, which

were hollowed in the middle like a saucer, in which the rain

is for a long time preserved; and also its beautiful red flowers.

As I was acquainted with the properties of this useful plant,

the pith of which is used as tinder by the Negroes, who also

make a strong kind of thread from the fibres of its leaves, I

was not less satisfied with my discovery, than I had been with

that of the potatoes; and I did not hesitate to assure them,

that I preferred it to the pine-apples. All answered me, their

mouths at the same time full of the fruit, that they would resign

these trees with all their flowers to me, if I would leave them

the pine-apples. The pine-apples are better than all the rest,

said they, even than the potatoes. What is a handsome-looking

tree worth, if it does not bear any fruit? Your most devoted

humble servant, Mr. Karata, but pine-apples for us!

Little gluttons! cried I, half angry, your preference is as senseless

as that of a man who prefers a woman with a handsome face, to

one possessed of those valuable and lasting virtues which soothe

the cares of human life. The flavour of the pine-apple gratifies

your palate; but it is not of necessary use, and I will immediately

give you a proof that I am not wrong in my preference of the

karata. Ernest, take out my flint and steel, and strike me a

light.

_Ernest._—But, father, what am I to do for tinder? what can I

put to receive the sparks?

_Father._—This is precisely to the purpose. When the tinder which

we brought from the vessel is all consumed, how shall we be able

to make a fire? and without a fire, how shall we dress a dinner,

or prepare numberless other matters we have occasion for?

_Ernest._—Oh, I should not be in the least at a loss. We would

do like the savages; rub two pieces of wood against each other,

till at length they catch fire.

_Father._—Many thanks for your information: but for us who are

not savages, and not in the habit of such exercise, the expedient

would be somewhat inconvenient. I would lay a wager, that if

you were to rub two pieces of wood together for a whole day,

you would not produce a single spark; or if you did, you would

wait so long for the end you had in view, as to make it almost

useless.

_Ernest._—If this is the case, we must endeavour to have patience

till we can find a tree that bears tinder, just as we found one

that bears gourds.

_Father._—We might make tinder by burning some linen rag, and

putting it in a close box: but we have, unfortunately, none to

spare; and, therefore, the best thing for us would be to find

tinder ready prepared in some plant; and in this we may succeed

by examining our new prize, the karata tree.

I then took a dried stalk of the tree, stripped off the bark,

and there appeared a kind of dry and spungy substance, which

I laid upon the flint; and then striking it with a steel, it

instantly caught fire. The boys looked on with astonishment,

and then began to caper about, exclaiming: Long live the tinder

tree!

Here then, said I, we have an article of greater usefulness than

if it served merely to gratify the appetite. Your mother will

next inform us, what materials she will use for sewing your clothes,

when her provision of thread from the enchanted bag is exhausted.

_My Wife._—I have long been uneasy upon this very subject, and

would willingly give all the pine-apples in the world, in exchange

for some hemp or flax.

_Father._—And your wish shall be accomplished, said I. For once I

shall have the pleasure of presenting you with something you eagerly

desire to have. If you examine, you will find some excellent thread

under the leaves of this extraordinary plant, where all-provident

nature has placed a store-house of this valuable article, though

the lengths of thread will be found not longer than the leaf.

I accordingly examined one of the leaves, and drew out of it

a strong piece of thread of a red colour, which I gave to my

wife. How fortunate it is for us, said she, that you have had

the habit of reading and of study! None of us would have had

a thought about this plant, or have conceived that it could be

of any use; but will it not be a little difficult to draw out

the little lengths of thread through the prickles that surround

them?

_Father._—Not in the least; we shall put the leaves to dry, either

in the sun, or by a gentle fire. The useless part of the leaf

will then separate by being beaten, and the mass of thread will

remain.

_Fritz._—I see clearly, father, that we ought not to trust to

appearances; it is the same with this tree as with mankind; the

most merit is often found in an individual that was least supposed

to possess it: but I believe it would be difficult to find any

good qualities in the prickly plants which are growing here in

all directions, and wounding the persons who go near them: of

what use can they possibly be?

_Father._—Again, my son, you form your judgement from appearances.

The greatest part of these plants possess medicinal virtues;

great use is made in pharmacy of the aloe, which produces such

abundance of beautiful flowers; in green-houses in Europe, some

have been seen to bear more than three thousand blossoms. At

Carlsbad, upon the estates of Count de Limbourg, there was an

aloe tree twenty-six feet in height; it had twenty-eight branches,

which branches bore more than three thousand blossoms in the

space of a month. At Paris, at Leyden, in Denmark, there have

been also seen some exceedingly curious specimens of this tree;

many of them are full of a resinous sort of sap, of which valuable

gums are made. But look, here, too, is the Indian fig or prickly

pear, a vegetable of no common interest; it grows in the poorest

soils, and, as you see, upon the rocks; the poorer the soil,

the more its leaves are thick and succulent; I should be tempted

to believe that it was nourished by the air, rather than by the

earth. It is also called the racket-tree, from the resemblance

of its long, thick, flat leaves to that well-known instrument.

This plant bears a kind of fig, which is said to be sweet and

palatable, when ripened in its native sun, and it is both a salutary

and refreshing food. This, then, is another plant of great utility.

Scarcely had I pronounced these words, than our light-footed

Jack was on the rock, trying to gather some of the fruit; but

this time he had reason to repent his precipitation; for the

fruit of this tree is covered with fine prickles, which assail

the skin of the bold hand that dares to gather them. Poor Jack

soon came down again, crying heartily, striking his feet upon the

ground, and shaking his hand with the pain the prickles occasioned.

I had not the courage to make this the moment for a lesson of

morality founded upon the effects of his gluttony, for which

he was sufficiently punished; and I reproved his brothers, who

stood by laughing while I was drawing out the thorns. I then

instructed them how to gather this fruit without incurring the

same inconvenience. I threw up a stone, and brought down a fig,

which I caught upon my hat; I cut off its two ends, and was thus

enabled to hold it without injury, while I peeled off the skin.

I then resigned it to the curiosity of my young companions.

The novelty, rather than the taste, of the fruit, made them think

it excellent: they all found means to gather some of the figs,

and each was busied in inventing the best method of taking off

the skins: but that of Fritz had the best success; he gathered

his figs, by plunging the sharp point of his stick into them,

and then pulling the stick a little sideways to bring them down:

he peeled them quite neatly while they were still on the stick,

and presented several to his mother, who partook of them with

pleasure.

In the mean time, I perceived Ernest holding a fig upon the end

of his knife, turning it about in all directions, and bringing

it close to his eye with a look of curious inquiry. I wish I

could know, said at length our young observer, what little animals

these are in the fig, which feed so eagerly upon it, and are

as red as scarlet.

_Father._—Ha, ha! this too will perhaps turn out a new discovery,

and an additional source of usefulness, which this plant possesses.

Let me look at your fig; I will lay a wager that it is the insect

called the cochineal.

_Jack._—The cochineal! what a droll name! What is the cochineal,

father?

_Father._—It is an insect of the kind called _suckers_, or _kermes_;

he feeds upon the Indian fig, which, no doubt, is the cause of his

beautiful colour, which forms an object of considerable importance

in the trade of a dyer; for nothing else produces so fine a scarlet.

In America, they stretch pieces of linen under the branches,

and then shake the tree; and when the insects have fallen in

great numbers, the ends of the linen are folded together to inclose

them; the insects are sprinkled with vinegar or cold water, and

then dried, and sent to Europe, for the use of dyers, who pay

a high price for the commodity.

_Ernest._—I now perfectly agree with you, that this plant is

of ten times more use than the finest pine-apple: the latter,

however, has also its merit, and we are not obliged to reject

the one, if we choose the other: yet, as we have not any occasion

for a scarlet dye, and that the fruit of the fig-tree is certainly

inferior to the pine-apple, so I think it is but reasonable to

prefer the last.

_Father._—In this you are to blame; I have not yet mentioned

a still superior usefulness peculiar to the Indian fig-tree;

it serves as a protection to man.

_Fritz._—As a protection to man! Why, how can that be, father?

_Father._—It is used for making hedges round the habitations

of man, its prickly surface effectually preventing the approach

of animals; for you see, that besides the prickles which took

such a fancy to Jack’s hand, there is a large thorn at each of

the knots, which appear in the plant.

_My Wife._—The largest serve very well for pins, and even for

nails; see how they keep my gown well fastened.

_Father._—This, then, you see is a third usefulness the Indian

fig-tree can boast, and of which I was not at first aware. You

must perceive of what importance these inclosures are; and the

rather, as they are made with so little trouble; for, if you

plant only one of its leaves in the ground, it immediately takes

root, and grows with astonishing rapidity: it is therefore not

only a defence against wild beasts, but against enemies in general;

for they could not get over it without cutting through the hedge;

and during such an operation, which also would be attended with

some danger, the persons within, gain time to escape, or to prepare

an effectual defence.

Jack, the king of the thoughtless race, asserted that this plant

was extremely soft, and yielding in its nature; and that with

the assistance of a knife, or even a stick, it would be easy

to get over such a hedge: to prove his assertion, he began to

cut down, with his clasp knife, a pretty large plant, striking

every where to right and left with all his might, till at length

one of the divided leaves fell with such violence on his leg,

that the thorns struck into the flesh, and Jack roared out piteously,

and quickly seated himself upon a stone to disengage it as quickly

as possible. I could not now, as I assisted him to draw out the

thorns, refrain from laughing a little at this second attack

of the figs, which was caused solely by his obstinacy and his

imprudence; I observed to him, how difficult it must be, for

savages, who wear no clothes, to force such a barrier as they

formed, and for this once, I had the pleasure of convincing him.

_Ernest._—Ah, papa, do let us make such a hedge round our tree;

we shall then have no further occasion to light fires to preserve

us from wild beasts, or even from the savages, who from one day

to another may arrive in their canoes, as they did on Robinson

Crusoe’s Island.

_Fritz._—And we could, then, easily gather the cochineal, and

try to make the same beautiful scarlet colour.

_Father._—We shall have time enough for many things, my dear

children; but for the present, it is sufficient to prove to you,

that God has not made any thing to be wholly useless; and that

it is the duty of men, on whom he has bestowed the gifts of wisdom

and intelligence, to employ those faculties, in discovering the

utility of the different productions he has allowed to exist.

_Jack._—For my part, I have done with the Indian fig-tree, its

fruit, its cochineal, and its ugly thorns, and I will never go

near it again.

_Father._—If the plant could speak, it would most likely say:

That little boy shall not come near me any more. Without any

reason, or any necessity, but purely out of contradiction to

his father, he attacks and destroys me; me, who would have done

him service, if he would but have treated me with kindness, and

have been careful in coming near me. And now, Jack, if your leg is

still painful, apply a leaf of the karata to it, for I recollect that

the plant possesses the property of curing wounds. He accordingly

took my advice, and in a few minutes was able to join us on our

road to Tent House.

Now then, said Ernest, I have had an opportunity of learning

the valuable properties of the karata tree, and of the Indian

fig-tree; but I wish I could also be informed respecting those

tall plants which look like sticks covered with thorns, that

I perceive every where about us; I see neither fruits nor insects

on them: of what use then, father, do you think they can be?

_Father._—It is not in my power, my dear boy, to explain to you

the uses of all the plants in the world; I presume that many

exist which have no other use than contributing to the sustenance

of different kinds of animals; and, as I have already told you,

it is for man, by his superior intelligence, to discover those

that can be applied to his own use. Many possess medicinal qualities

of which I am ignorant, and which will become better known as

the world advances in age. It occurred to me that one of the

plants we saw today, named the prickly candle, is of the kind

which Bruce describes in his _Travels to Abyssinia_, and of which

he gives a drawing; the only difference that I perceive, being

the size. They serve, says he, for food to the elephant and the

rhinoceros; the first with his strong teeth, or his trunk, and

the latter with his horn, lay hold of this seeming stick, and

rip it up from one end to the other; they then devour the pith,

and sometimes the rind.

_Ernest._—The palate of these animals must surely be made of

iron, to be able to chew such a thorny substance without injury.

_Fritz._—Why so? Camels and asses are very fond of thistles,

and appear to digest them extremely well. It is probable, therefore,

that the stomach of these animals is so formed, that these prickly

substances occasion in it only an agreeable excitation, favourable

to their appetite and their digestion.

_Father._—Your idea is not a bad one; and if it be not true,

it is at least probable.

_Fritz._—Will you tell me, father, the precise difference between

_true_ and _probable_?

_Father._—Your question is one of those which have occupied the

attention of philosophers for two thousand years. It would therefore

be too tedious to discuss at this moment; I will, however, endeavour

to make my answer such, as to be of use to you, in the science of

logic, or the art of reasoning. Let us see, if you will understand it.

What we call _true_, is that which cannot in any way be contradicted,

and which exactly agrees, in every point, with the idea we conceive

of a certain object, or as it really exists before our eyes:

for example, when I make an impression with my seal on some warm

wax, it is absolutely _true_ that the figure impressed on the

wax, is the same as that on the seal. A thing is _probable_,

when we have a variety of motives for believing it true, without,

however, being able to bring any proof. Again, we call _false_,

that which is in positive contradiction to all our notions, our

reason, and our experience. Is it _true_, _probable_, or _false_,

that a man can fly up into the air?

_All._—It is false, absolutely false.

_Father._—How so?

_Jack._—Because the thing is impossible.

_Father._—Very well, my young philosopher, and why is the thing

impossible?

_Jack._—Because it is not possible.

_Father._—Ha, ha, ha! here is a pretty round of _possible_ and

_impossible_. _It is false, because no such thing can be done,

and no such thing can be done, because it is not possible._ Presently

you will tell me that it is impossible because it is false. Try

again, my lads, we must have some better reasons. What say you,

Ernest?

_Ernest._—I say, that the thing cannot be done, because it is

not in the nature of man to fly; that, having no wings, he is

not formed for flying.

_Father._—Well, but if some one should assert, that a man is

able to make a machine, by the assistance of which he can raise

and support himself in the air without wings, and without the

machine’s resting upon any thing; would this be _probable_ or

_improbable_? What think you, Fritz?

_Fritz._—I think I should have said _improbable_, if I had not

known that people have accomplished what you describe by the

invention of balloons.

_Father._—And why should you have thought it _improbable_?

_Fritz._—Because man is, in his nature, heavier than the air;

and I should have supposed, that a machine of whatever kind,

instead of diminishing, would only add to his weight.

_Father._—Very well reasoned. But you would be told that this

machine is of large dimensions, and composed of a close, light

kind of silk, and that it is filled with air chemically prepared,

which being much lighter than atmospheric air, tends perpetually

to ascend, and supports the man in the air, as bladders support

you upon the water. Do you understand all this, my boy? and what

have you to say in answer?

_Fritz._—Yes, father, I understand it; and I perceive how it

might be probable, that since man has discovered a means to be

sustained upon water, he might also find the means to raise and

sustain himself in the air.

_Father._—And when a multitude of persons of veracity, and of

different ages, shall declare, that with their own eyes they

saw a balloon, to which a parachute was fastened filled with

men, and that all mounted in the air together, and disappeared

above the clouds; should you still maintain that it is false

that a man can fly?

_All._—No, to be sure, we should say that it is quite true that

he can fly.

_Father._—And yet you all said but a minute ago, that it was

absolutely false.

_Fritz._—Ah! but we said that, father, of a man by himself,

independently of any machine he might construct; for though nature

has refused him wings, she has not failed to bestow on him an

inventive mind, which more than compensates for that deficiency.

_Father._—Your observation is perfectly just, and I hope you

will not fail to profit by it. With the aid of his intelligence,

and his reason, there is scarcely any thing which man cannot

attain to. But to return to our example: you will find in it

the definition of the words which you ask me about: it is _false_,

that man of himself can fly; it is _probable_, that by the aid

of a machine of his own invention, he may be enabled to mount

and sustain himself in the air; and it is _absolutely true_,

that this has been effected by man, though without his having

yet found a certain means of guiding these factitious wings;

a defect, which in a great measure renders his discovery useless.

_My Wife._—Well, now we have had a long lesson upon the subject,

during which I have not been able to put in one single little

word; I am afraid you will make your boys so learned, that I

shall not know on what subjects to converse with them.

_Father._—There is no fear of that, my dear; for even should

I teach them all I know myself, they would not be very learned.

A man should always endeavour to acquire knowledge: if he lives

in the world, he is in consequence the more esteemed, the more

respected, and knows the better how to manage his affairs: if,

as will most likely be the case with our sons, their lot is to

live in a kind of solitude, it will be less tiresome to them,

if they have cultivated the habit of thinking and reflecting;

so that even the little information in my power to give them,

may be of use. I have never had occasion to regret that I knew

so much, but often that I knew too little, particularly in our

present situation, where no other master can be obtained for

them than myself and nature. If the boys could conceive what

advantages they would derive from study, they would impose upon

themselves the strictest application, while at the age when learning

is so easy. Conversing thus, we reached Jackall’s River, which

we crossed, stepping with great care from stone to stone, and

very shortly arrived at our old habitation, where we found every

thing in perfect order as we had left it; and we immediately

dispersed, each in pursuit of what he intended to take away.

Fritz loaded himself with powder and shot; I and my wife and

Francis employed ourselves in filling our pot with butter, the

carrying of which on our return it was agreed was to fall on

me. Ernest and Jack looked about for the geese and ducks; but

as they were become somewhat savage, the boys could not succeed

in catching one of them. The idea then occurred to Ernest, of

taking a small bit of cheese, and tying it to the end of a piece

of string, and holding it to float in the water. The voracious

animals hastened eagerly to seize it. In this way, Ernest drew

them towards him, one by one, with the cheese in its mouth, till

he had caught the whole: he put them in their pocket handkerchiefs,

leaving only their heads at liberty; and then we fastened them

as a parcel to our game-bags, so that each had his share in carrying

them.

We had thought of taking back with us a provision of salt; but

we could not carry so much as we wished, the sacks being occupied

with potatoes. I, however, thought of throwing in a certain quantity

loose into one of them, to fill up the space between the potatoes:

in this way we secured a tolerable supply; but it made the sack

so heavy, that no one was willing to be incumbered with it. Fritz

proposed that our faithful Turk should carry it; and accordingly

we took off his superb coat of mail, and left it at Tent House,

and the sack was tied on the back of the quiet, kind-tempered

animal. Ponto was to carry the monkey as before.

We set out on our return, loaded with treasures, and the appearance

of our caravan was even more amusing than it had been before:

the ducks and geese, with their heads and necks stretching out

at our shoulders, cackling with all their might, gave us a truly

singular and ludicrous appearance: we could not help laughing

immoderately as we passed the bridge, one after the other, loaded

in so strange a fashion. Our mutual jokes, and the general good

humour which prevailed, served to shorten the length of the walk,

and we none of us were sensible of fatigue, till we were seated

under our tree at Falcon’s Stream. My wife now prepared to console

us, by putting some of the potatoes which we so eagerly desired

to taste, immediately on the fire. She next milked the cow and

the goat, and refreshed us with a draught of their warm milk,

giving us a proof how the natural strength may be increased,

by the feelings of conjugal and maternal love. The kind-hearted

woman was at least as much fatigued as any of us; yet she made

no attempt to rest herself, till she had provided us with all

she had to give for our refreshment. At length, after dining heartily

on our potatoes, on which we bestowed abundance of commendation,

we concluded the day with evening-prayers, and then joyfully

climbed our ladder to seek the blessing of repose in our aërial

castle.