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.