Among the Trees at Elmridge Part 17

"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 n.o.ble 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 n.o.ble 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 n.o.ble tree still blossoms from year to year, beautiful in every change of seasons."

"Lime, linden and ba.s.swood," said Clara--"three names to remember for one tree. But didn't you say, Miss Harson, that it's always called ba.s.swood 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, ma.s.ses 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 ma.s.ses, 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 ma.s.ses 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 princ.i.p.al 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 t.i.tle 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 t.i.tle '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 seash.o.r.e! Beach!

That's what I told myself to remember."

[Ill.u.s.tration: AMERICAN BEECH.]

"A very good idea," replied his governess, laughing; "only you must not spell it with an _a_, like the seash.o.r.e, 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 subst.i.tute 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 ta.s.sels, 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 refres.h.i.+ng 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."

CHAPTER XV.

_THE TENT AND THE LOCUSTS_.

There came a bright balmy day in May when the children found a delightful surprise awaiting them. The tent in the woods, which had been proposed on the day when birch-twigs were found to be eatable, was almost forgotten--or if thought of, it was as a thing that could not possibly be--when, on the day in question, Miss Harson took her charges out as usual, and led them to a very pretty cleared s.p.a.ce with a fringe of rocks and trees all around it. But on this spot, which hitherto had been quite bare, there now stood some sort of a little house different from other houses and quite pretty.

"It's a tent!" exclaimed Malcolm. "Who put it there, I should like to know, on _our_ land?"

"Are there gypsies here, Miss Harson?" whispered Clara, rather fearfully.

But the young lady walked deliberately up to the entrance of the tent and invited her little flock to come inside.

"I know the gentleman who had it put here," she said, "and he is quite willing that we should use it; but he will not give any one else this liberty."

"I think I know him too," said Malcolm as he walked in after Miss Harson.

"And I!"--"And I!" exclaimed the little girls. "It is our own papa. How very kind of him!"