FOOTNOTES:[D]The above illustration is reproduced from Irving's "Life of Washington," by kind permission of Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons.
[D]The above illustration is reproduced from Irving's "Life of Washington," by kind permission of Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons.
[D]The above illustration is reproduced from Irving's "Life of Washington," by kind permission of Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons.
Spring Beauties.
The Puritan Spring Beauties stood freshly clad for church;A Thrush, white-breasted, o'er them sat singing on his perch."Happy be! for fair are ye!" the gentle singer told them.But presently a buff-coat Bee came booming up to scold them."Vanity, oh, vanity!Young maids, beware of vanity!"Grumbled out the buff-coat Bee,Half parson-like, half soldierly.The sweet-faced maidens trembled, with pretty, pinky blushes,Convinced that it was wicked to listen to the Thrushes;And when, that shady afternoon, I chanced that way to pass,They hung their little bonnets down and looked into the grass.All because the buff-coat BeeLectured them so solemnly:—"Vanity, oh, vanity!Young maids, beware of vanity!"
The Puritan Spring Beauties stood freshly clad for church;A Thrush, white-breasted, o'er them sat singing on his perch."Happy be! for fair are ye!" the gentle singer told them.But presently a buff-coat Bee came booming up to scold them."Vanity, oh, vanity!Young maids, beware of vanity!"Grumbled out the buff-coat Bee,Half parson-like, half soldierly.
The sweet-faced maidens trembled, with pretty, pinky blushes,Convinced that it was wicked to listen to the Thrushes;And when, that shady afternoon, I chanced that way to pass,They hung their little bonnets down and looked into the grass.All because the buff-coat BeeLectured them so solemnly:—"Vanity, oh, vanity!Young maids, beware of vanity!"
Conrad was not a prince, not even a lord; he was only an ordinary boy. He should have been on his way to school; but, having a talent for doing nothing, he was wandering about the fields and little strips of woodland, amusing himself by watching the birds skim through the air. He had lately been reading a volume of fairy-tales, and as he walked along he began to wonder whether there really was a bit of truth in any of them.
"HE BECKONED TO CONRAD, WHO CROSSED THE STREAM ON A SLIGHT PLANK BRIDGE.""HE BECKONED TO CONRAD, WHO CROSSED THE STREAM ON A SLIGHT PLANK BRIDGE."
He kept on thinking so intently about it, that he did not notice how near he was to a little brook, until he found himself almost on the point of tumbling into the water. This put a stop to his wondering, for the next moment he stood staring in astonishment, not at the water, but at a little old man who was sitting on the roots of a large tree that grew on the opposite bank of the stream. He was dressed in a very curious fashion. On his head he had a tall steeple-crowned hat, in which were placed two long peacock's feathers.
The little old man sat looking very attentively at Conrad, and seemed to derive a great deal of comfort from a long pipe, which he was enjoying so energetically that all around him the air was filled with smoke. At last he beckoned to Conrad, who crossed the stream on a slight plank bridge, and advanced toward him.
By that time, Conrad had leaped to the conclusion, in his own mind, that the very queer-looking old gentleman was an enchanter, and so he had resolved to be very respectful, to do just as he was bidden, and to wait very patiently for the little old man to speak first.
Presently the little old man shifted the pipe for a moment, and asked:
"What are those books that you are carrying?"
"They are my school-books," said Conrad; "but I am tired of going to school, and I wish to go with the fairies!"
The little old man smiled a benevolent smile, and exclaimed: "Oh!" Then he shifted his pipe again, and said quickly:
"Give me the school-books."
Conrad did so, at once.
The little old man then opened a spelling-book, and turned to the fly-leaf.
"Conrad," said he.
Conrad started, for he wondered how the little man had learned his name. He himself had not once mentioned it. He was sure now that the queer little person was an enchanter.
"So, Conrad," said the little old man again, "you wish to go to the fairies, do you? Well, you may go; but you must leave your books with me until you come back."
Conrad's attention was now attracted by a raven, which he saw standing beside the enchanter, and which he had not noticed before.
Turning to the bird, the enchanter said: "Give me my key."
The raven hopped from a large key upon which it had been standing, and taking it in its beak, presented it to its master.
Conrad wished to ask if the raven would bite, and whether it could do any better trick than carrying a key; but he thought this might be considered an impertinent question, so he said nothing.
"Take this key," said the little old man, "and be careful not to lose it. Walk on until you come to the edge of yonder forest; pass straight through the wood, and when you arrive at the other side, you will behold a castle not far distant. You may find it difficult to gain admission; but you must persevere. As to what will happen afterward, I may not tell you now. One word more, and then begone; should you ever need my assistance, blow down the key."
Conrad was so astonished at all he had seen and heard, that he hardly knew what to do; but as the little old man pointed in the direction of the forest, Conrad bade him good-day, and walked away to follow the orders he had received.
He kept on until he came to the forest, which he entered. It seemed so quiet and dark, that he would have been frightened, had he not remembered that, in case of danger, he could depend on assistance from the enchanter.
At last he reached the end of the wood, and about a mile beyond, he saw the castle with its gilded dome and all its windows shining in the sunlight. This sight cheered him, and he walked on till he came to the gateway. He found the great gates wide open; and no one prevented his entering, as it happened to be a day on which the King received petitions from those of his subjects who wished to present any.
He passed on through the large court-yard, key in hand, and instead of going in at the entrance to the court, he entered a little side door and ascended a winding stairway. Up he went, higher and higher, till it seemed as if the stairway would never end, when suddenly he came face to face with an official who was descending.
"What business have you here?" asked the officer.
Conrad could not answer; so the man gently took hold of his ear and led him down the stairs again, varying the monotony of the long descent by giving the ear a severe pinch at every seventh step. Out through the court-yard they passed, the bystanders all cheering and laughing; out of the gate again; and with one final pinch, the boy was left sobbing on the roadway.
Poor Conrad had, indeed, found it difficult to gain admission to the castle. Drying his tears, however, he began to walk around the outside of the building, until at last he came to a ladder that was leaning against a window.
"The very thing!" said he; "it must have been left here on purpose for me."
Up he climbed, slipped in at the window, and dropped quietly to the floor.
He found himself in a large hall, through which he walked until he came to an archway at the farther end. Before the archway hung an embroidered curtain. Conrad pushed it aside, and entered a richly decorated room, at the end of which stood a throne. Around it were assembled many nobles, pages, and guards, who were awaiting the return of the King from hunting.
Few of them looked at Conrad. Some seemed to cast a scornful side-glance at him, and one even told him to go back by the way he had come. Conrad was not a whit daunted, however, and boldly holding up his key, so that every one could see it, he walked up to a portly-looking gentleman, who was dressed in black velvet and who wore a golden chain around his neck. Conrad asked him what he was to do. The portly gentleman stared at him. Conrad asked if any of the company were enchanted; "because," said he, "if they are, I'll disenchant them with my key."
"Enchanted?" said the gentleman in black. "What do you mean? Why do you bother me about enchantment?"
Conrad began to feel a little nervous, and to think that they did not seem at all like enchanted folk; at least, they did not act like any he had read about in his books.
The enchanter had told him that he would meet with difficulties, but, despite his confidence, he could not help getting very red in the face. And by this time, all the gentlemen, except the one dressed in black, were smiling.
Suddenly, Conrad remembered what the little old man had said about whistling down the key. Happy thought! He at once rushed up in front of the portly gentleman with the black velvet suit and the golden chain, and began to whistle in the key as hard as he could.
But, at this performance, the nobles all stopped smiling and looked first at one another, and then at Conrad, with very grave faces; one even put his hand upon his sword.
Now, it happened that the gentleman in black velvet was a Grand Duke and the Prime Minister of the kingdom. At that moment he was thinking over some important question of state, and the sight of Conrad whistling and capering in front of him, just as he was settling everything to his own satisfaction, made him so angry, that he stopped and stared at Conrad, as if he could have stepped upon him. Conrad kept on whistling, but the little enchanter did not come. "He must either be ill or very deaf," thought Conrad, and he was just making up his mind that something was wrong, when all doubts on the subject were removed by the Grand Duke, who advanced toward him, picked him up by the collar of his jacket, and, carrying him to a window, quietly dropped him out.
Poor Conrad was very much shaken by his fall, and for a time was so dazed that he could hardly realize what had happened. In a little while, he began to collect his thoughts; but as he picked himself up, he concluded, notwithstanding the difficulties he had encountered, that he would try once more to gain admission to the castle. So he arose and walked toward a door which he saw a few paces distant.
His key fitted the lock perfectly. He pushed aside a sliding door, walked in, and passed down a stairway, when he found himself in a dark cellar. The floor was strewn with boxes and small barrels, over which he stumbled, breaking some bottles that stood in his way. He began to feel frightened, so he climbed to the top of a barrel, in order to get a glimpse of his position and see if he could find his way out to daylight. Suddenly the barrel-head gave way, and before he had time to jump off, Conrad fell, up to his knees, in some soft powder. He struggled to free himself, but only upset the barrel and covered himself from head to foot with flour or fine meal. At last he called for assistance; and a door, that he had not noticed until then, opened, and a girl of about his own age came into the cellar, and asked what was the matter.
"I've tumbled into something; please come and help me out," cried Conrad.
She hurried to him, and with her aid he at last succeeded in freeing himself.
After brushing the dust from his hair andhis clothes, he followed where his new friend led the way, and entered a kitchen, thinking that without doubt he was now in the presence of an enchanted princess, who must have been waiting many years for some one to disenchant her. "To be sure," thought he, "I am not a prince; but then that does not so much matter; there is no telling but I may be one, some day;" so he decided to ask the maiden how she had become enchanted.
"Beautiful Princess," exclaimed he,——and he was just attempting a very fine speech in the best fairy-story manner, when the young girl laughed, and told him to be seated, and asked him if he would like to have a pie. Conrad was astonished by this question from an enchanted princess; but, without waiting for his reply, the girl walked toward a table on which stood a number of mince-pies, and, taking up one of them, she placed it before Conrad.
That was not the way in which an enchanted princess was supposed to act; but as Conrad was very hungry, he did not express his surprise, but turned his attention to the pie. While he was eating, the princess busied herself with beating some eggs in a large bowl, and before he knew it, Conrad found that he had eaten all the pie.
Then they talked about the weather and whatever else they happened to think of; and at last, Conrad asked her how long she had been enchanted.
"What!" exclaimed the princess.
He repeated his question.
"Why, what do you mean?" said she.
He was just about explaining, when "tramp, tramp, tramp!"—the noise of feet was heard coming down the stairs. The princess jumped up, and cried:
"Oh, run! Run quickly! I shall be punished if they find that I have given you a pie!"
"Oh, no," said Conrad; "do not be frightened! I will protect you from them. I came to this castle on purpose to rescue you."
"But I do not want to be rescued!" said she. "Do go, at once!"
Tramp, tramp! Nearer and nearer came the sound,—almost to the bottom of the stairs. Conrad felt for his key.
"Oh, dear!" he exclaimed, "I must have lost my key when I fell into the barrel! I never noticed that I was without it till now. All is lost! Adieu, good Princess!"
"Good-bye," said she; "only go!"
He jumped upon a table, and climbed out of the window. It was all that was left for him to do. After he was outside of the building, he turned, and waving his hand to the princess, begged her to remember him.
"I will come back to you, if I ever get my key again," he said; "and then I'll disenchant you."
At that moment the kitchen door opened, and Conrad saw a great light. It might have been a bull's-eye lantern, but Conrad was sure that it was a dragon that was pointing its fiery eye at him.
"Oh, the poor princess!" said he. "If only I had my key!"
Then, as the light flashed full at him, he became so frightened that he turned and ran for the gate as hard as he could. He made his way across the court-yard much faster than when he had come in, and soon he had left the castle far behind. The houses began to be farther apart and to have a more rustic appearance. He heard a cart coming along the road.
"Please give me a ride!" he cried to the driver.
"Yes, I will," said the man; "jump in." And Conrad clambered into the cart.
"You look tired," said the driver. "Lie down on that blanket and rest yourself."
Conrad gladly did as he was told and, feeling much fatigued after his adventures, he was soon fast asleep.
He did not awake until he felt himself carried out of the cart, and was just enough awake to know that all the inmates of his father's house, together with a few of the neighbors, were crowding about and asking him where he had been. And that was all he noticed, for the next moment he was off to sleep again, and was carried upstairs and put to bed.
He did not feel very well the next morning, so the doctor was called in, who advised that he should remain in the house for a few days, as he had a slight fever.
While at home, he told his aunt what had happened to him; but she only patted his head, and told him that he must have been dreaming. But this Conrad refused to believe.
When he recovered, however, he became a much better boy, more quiet and attentive to his studies; and it may be mentioned that, whenever any one told a fairy-tale, he wore a very solemn face, took a back seat, and said nothing.
It is not known whether he still believes in fairies; but one thing is certain—he never saw the little old enchanter again, nor the school-books that he had left with him.
Snow, snow, down from the apple-trees,Pink and white drifting of petals sweet!Kiss her and crown her our Lady of Blossoming,There as she sits on the apple-tree sweet!Has she not gathered the summer about her?See how it laughs from her lips and her eyes!Think you the sun there would shine on without her?Nay! 'Tis her smile keeps the gray from the skies!Fire of the rose, and snow of the jessamine,Gold of the lily-dust hid in her hair;Day holds his breath and Night comes up to look at her,Leaving their strife for a vision so rare.Snow, snow, down from the apple-trees,Pink and white drifting of petals sweet!Kiss her, and crown her, and flutter adown her,And carpet the ground for her dear little feet!
Snow, snow, down from the apple-trees,Pink and white drifting of petals sweet!Kiss her and crown her our Lady of Blossoming,There as she sits on the apple-tree sweet!
Has she not gathered the summer about her?See how it laughs from her lips and her eyes!Think you the sun there would shine on without her?Nay! 'Tis her smile keeps the gray from the skies!
Fire of the rose, and snow of the jessamine,Gold of the lily-dust hid in her hair;Day holds his breath and Night comes up to look at her,Leaving their strife for a vision so rare.
Snow, snow, down from the apple-trees,Pink and white drifting of petals sweet!Kiss her, and crown her, and flutter adown her,And carpet the ground for her dear little feet!
Early one morning, a palanquin carried by native bearers, and containing as passengers Mr. Steedman, an English missionary, and his little son Harry, was proceeding up the one street of Biforána, a queer little bamboo village on the island of Madagascar, situated about midway between Antananarivo, the capital, and the eastern coast.
Comparatively little is known of Madagascar, although the unsuccessful attempt of France to obtain possession of it drew interest and attention to it not many months ago. There are but two larger islands in the world. As many of you know, it lies some two hundred and fifty miles to the east of the African coast, is nine hundred andeighty miles long and two hundred and fifty wide, and is therefore nearly four times as large as England and Wales combined.
The Queen of this island kingdom is a young woman with the curious name of Rasendranovo Ranavalo III. She succeeded to the throne in 1883. She is a Christian, as is also a large part of the population of her realm; and there are numerous missionary stations throughout the island.
Harry Steedman's father was one of these missionaries, and Harry himself was accustomed to traveling by palanquin, since there are no roads nor carriages to be found in Madagascar.
"PASSING A GROVE OF PALMS KNOWN AS THE 'TRAVELER'S TREE.'""PASSING A GROVE OF PALMS KNOWN AS THE 'TRAVELER'S TREE.'"
The palanquin was an oblong basket of bamboo, lined with plaited sheepskin. The ends of the long poles or handles rested upon the shoulders of four Madagascan bearers, while four others accompanied these as a relay. Under the palanquin hood of woven palm-cloth, Mr. Steedman reclined comfortably, while Harry nestled cozily at his feet; and so, out of the village, and through the swamp of Biforána, the procession moved until the mire became so thick that the palanquin could not be carried with ease. As the next best mode of conveyance, the two passengers were then transferred to the shoulders of two stout natives.
PALANQUIN TRAVELING BECOMES UNCOMFORTABLE.PALANQUIN TRAVELING BECOMES UNCOMFORTABLE.
Mr. Steedman had started upon an expedition in search of the beautiful lace-leaf plant, or water-yam, of Madagascar, which he was told grew in the forests beyond Biforána, and which he was very desirous of finding in its native state. Harry, after urgent solicitation, had been allowed to accompany his father; but, as he clung to the neck of his swarthy bearer, the little fellow found that there was not, after all, so much fun in the trip as he had expected. And later on, when the palanquin, in which they were soon seated again, was tossed and bumped by the slipping and stumbling of the bearers as they climbed a very steep hill-side, he began almost to wish himself at home.
After passing a grove of the stately palms known as the "traveler's tree," they found themselves on a path that led to the bank of a river. They endeavored to ford it, but speedily found that the danger from deep holes and ugly-looking crocodiles was too great for them to proceed. So Raheh, the chief bearer, uttered a curious cry, or signal, which soon brought into view alàkana, or canoe, rudely fashioned from a hollow tree-trunk; and in it a native was paddling rapidly toward them.
Harry and his father stepped into the rather shaky-looking craft not without misgivings, butthey were soon safely landed on the other shore. When all had been thus ferried across and the native boatman had been paid, the party entered the great forest of Alamazaotra, which covers more than forty miles of wild and mountainous country.
THE LACE-LEAF OF MADAGASCAR.THE LACE-LEAF OF MADAGASCAR.
Their path at once led them through a gorge so narrow that the sides of the palanquin grazed the rocky walls, and the masses of tangled foliage, meeting far above their heads, almost entirely obscured the light. The bearers paused for breath after climbing the steep ascent that led from this gloomy pass, and Harry and his father exclaimed in wonder at the strange beauty of the wild tropical forest.
Gigantic palms upheld around their stately heads a leafy dome closely interlaced by clinging vines. Long garlands of moss and climbing plants crossed and recrossed this lofty roof, and from its shadowy arches great masses of gray moss hung suspended. Here and there among the cool green and gray tints of leaves and moss some tropical flowers and fruits gleamed forth in bright flashes of scarlet and gold.
Myriads of frail wood-blossoms hid their pale heads under the feathery ferns that clustered about the roots of the trees, and the dead palms were tenderly shrouded in waxy-leaved climbing vines, their graceful fallen crowns replaced by masses of green ferns, intermingled with the faint pink and blue tints of some rare orchid. On every side were little groves of bamboo,—their light-green fringes contrasting with the darker fronds of the stately tree-fern.
Absolute silence reigned throughout this solitude, and Harry began to be so oppressed by the stillness as to grow fearful of danger. But his father explained that during the wet season, in which they were traveling, insect life in these tropical forests is asleep, and Harry himself knew that there were but few wild animals in Madagascar. Indeed, with the exception of that curious animal, part fox, part squirrel, and part monkey, that is peculiar to Madagascar and is called, from its prowling habits and ghostly appearance, the lemur, or "ghostly visitor," the great island possesses no large native quadrupeds. The hump-backed African cattle and the singular fat-tailed sheep, now common throughout the island, were not originally found in Madagascar, but were taken over from Africa.
The bearers of the palanquin clambered on, now over steep and moss-covered rocks, now crossing sluggish streams on slippery stepping-stones, or sliding down precipices, until poor Harry was so rattled and shaken and tossed and tumbled that he declared he didn't know his head from his heels.
But, at last, a break occurred in the long stretch of rock and forest, and as the bearers paused upon a piece of level ground, for a moment's rest, Raheh suddenly uttered the joyful cry of "rano!" (water)and all, on listening, distinguished the sound of a rushing stream.
Urged on by Raheh, the bearers pushed ahead, and soon stood upon the banks of a beautiful river, dashing merrily along over rocks and fallen trees, until with a leap it disappeared in the shadows of the vast forest. Upon the farther side was grouped a little village of the clay huts belonging to the friendly Hovas, and beyond the village stretched green fields of waving rice. The "Hovas" are the governing race in the island, and are the most civilized. Their capital city of Antananarivo, in the center of the island, is a well-built city of over 100,000 inhabitants.
A tree had fallen across the stream, with its head resting upon the opposite bank, and this natural bridge was entirely covered with pink, blue, and white flowers of the waxy orchid. This beautiful sight, however, was unnoticed by Harry and his father, for in the water at their feet was the object of their search, the Lattice or Lace leaf.
MADAGASCAN DRINKING-CUP FORMED FROM A LEAF OF THE "TRAVELER'S TREE."MADAGASCAN DRINKING-CUP FORMED FROM A LEAF OF THE "TRAVELER'S TREE."
The lace-leaf plant, or fresh-water yam as it is sometimes called because of its potato-shaped or yam-like root, is found in many of the rivers of Madagascar. The difficulty of obtaining it, however, makes it a rare plant to Europeans; and when, a few days before, Mr. Steedman had recognized in some "roasted potatoes," as Harry called the pleasant-tasting vegetable that one of his boyish Madagascan friends had given him to eat, the edible root of the lace-leaf plant, the missionary had determined to make a careful search for the plant so prized by naturalists. And now at last he had found it, bobbing backward and forward in a fantastic dance just above the eddying waters of the beautiful forest river. As soon as they recognized it, both Mr. Steedman and his son were on the ground in an instant, and bending eagerly above the clear stream. The water was so pure and limpid that every pebble could be counted, and in the cool, bright current they saw, to their delight, a perfect labyrinth of lace-work. Dozens of lace-leaves, green, gold, olive, and brown, were floating just beneath the surface of the water.
"Oh, Papa! did you ever see anything so lovely?" said Harry, excitedly.
Mr. Steedman could take but a one-sided view of those wonderful leaves, as one glass from his spectacles had been lost during their rough journey; but the remaining glass fairly sparkled with satisfaction.
"Ah, my son, this plant is both lovely and rare. See, the young leaves are light green and yellow; the older leaves are darker,—shades of green and olive. A few are even black, and all growing from the same root. How perfect is every leaf, in spite of its delicate texture! Some of those larger leaves must be ten or twelve inches long. The strong midrib in each serves as a support for the fragile threads forming the meshes on each side."
Harry now plunged his hand into the lace-like web, half expecting it to dissolve in his grasp. But no! The wiry little yellow leaf which he raised from the water, was perfect in form, and a gleam of sunlight, falling upon the shining meshes, transformed them into threads of glistening gold.
He now discovered, as he examined them carefully, that the under surfaces of the leaves, were glistening with little pearly bubbles of air.
RAHEH, THE GUIDE.RAHEH, THE GUIDE.
"Oh, Papa," he cried, joyously holding the glistening meshes aloft, "the lace-leaves are jeweled!"
"Yes, Harry," said his father, "those diamond drops are made by the breathing of the plant."
Mr. Steedman attempted to detach a root of one of the plants from its bed of mud, but the little tendrils branching from it on every side held the root firmly in its place. At last he succeeded in extricating the little white threads, one by one, and removed the entire plant to the bank. Its root, which is eaten in Madagascar, was very like the ginger root, and had a tough, light-brown skin.
Harry carefully placed the leaves of the plant in his herbarium, while his father packed the root, with its native soil, in a tin case, preparatory to sending it to the Botanical Society in London.
"Harry," he said, as they finished their work, "this plant could be easily reared in our green-houses—heat and moisture being all that is required. But nature seems to have jealously surrounded these beautiful leaves with almost impassable barriers, and the lace-plant is comparatively unknown.
"But come, my boy Raheh says 'maly-massandro' (the sun is dead), and it will be as long as 'two cookings of rice' (two half hours) before we can be ferried across to yonder village and secure a place to pass the night."
And so, after Raheh had given Harry one last drink from the clear, cool river, in the odd-looking leaf-cup he carried for the purpose, the tired but successful lace-leaf hunters crossed over to the Hova village and were soon fast asleep.
One of the most remarkable plants in the whole vegetable kingdom is that known to botanists as theJusticia Picta, which has also been well named "The Caricature Plant."
At first sight, it appears to be a heavy, large-leafed plant, with purple blossoms, chiefly remarkable for the light-yellow centers of its dark-green leaves, which cause them to look as if some acid had been spilled upon them and taken the color out wherever it had touched.
As I stood looking at this odd plant and thinking what a sickly, blighted appearance the queer, yellow stains gave it, I was suddenly impressed with the fact that the plant was "making faces" at me. Still, unaccustomed as I was to seeing plants indulge in this strictly human amusement, I was slow to believe it, and stooped to read the somewhat illegible inscription on the card below the plant—"Justicia Picta, or 'Caricature Plant.'" My first impression was correct then. This curious shrub had indeed occupied itself in growing up in ridiculous caricatures of the "human face divine," until it now stood, covered from the topmost leaf down, with the queerest faces imaginable. Nature had taken to caricaturing. The flesh-colored profiles stood out in strong relief against the dark-green of the leaves.
A discovery of one of these vegetable marks leads to an examination of a second and a third leaf, until all are scanned as closely and curiously as theleaves of the comic papers that form the caricature plants of the literary kingdom.
What a valuable plant this would be for one of our professional caricaturists to have growing in his conservatory! When an order was sent to him for a "speaking likeness" of some unhappy politician, he could simply visit hisJusticia Pictawith pencil and paper in hand, and look over the leaves for a suitable squint, grin, or distorted nose to sketch from. He could, moreover, affirm with truth that the portrait was "taken from nature." Cuthbert Collingwood, the celebrated naturalist, says of theJusticia Picta: "One of these plants in the garden of Gustave Doré would be worth a fortune to him, supplying him with a never-failing fund of grotesque physiognomies, from which he might illustrate every serio-comic romance ever written." I have never heard of the cultivation of the Caricature Plant in this country; but botanists tell us that it is a hardy shrub. I think we should be glad to see the funny faces on its leaves. After all the lovely flowers we are called upon to admire, I am sure that a plant evidently intended to make us laugh would receive a warm welcome from our young people.
The Chinese appreciate the Caricature Plant, and in some parts of China it is quite extensively cultivated. Perhaps some of the funny, grinning faces on Chinese toys and ornaments are reproductions of the grotesque features on the leaves of the plant.
Finally, I must assure any unbelieving readers ofSt. Nicholasthat neither in this account of a very remarkable plant, nor in the accompanying illustration, has the writer drawn upon imagination.
THE CARICATURE PLANT.THE CARICATURE PLANT.
TheJusticia Pictareally exists. It is a native of the East Indies, and is a source of much amusement and curiosity to both botanists and travelers.
About two hundred years ago the governor of the island of Jamaica, Sir Thomas Lynch, sent to King Charles II. of England a vegetable necktie, and a very good necktie it was, although it had grown on a tree and had not been altered since it was taken from the tree. It was as soft and white and delicate as lace, and it is not surprising that the King should have expressed his doubts when he was told that the beautiful fabric had grown on a tree in almost the exact condition in which he saw it. It had been stretched a little, and that was all.
But if King Charles was astonished to learn that neckties grew on trees in Jamaica, what must have been the feelings of a stranger traveling in Central America, on being told that mosquito-nets grew on trees in that country? He had complained to his host that the mosquitoes had nearly eaten him up the night before, and had been told in response that he should have a new netting put over his bed.
Satisfied with this statement, the traveler was turning away, but his attention was arrested by his host's calmly continuing, "in fact, we are goingto strip a tree anyhow, because there is to be a wedding on the estate, and we wish to have a dress ready for the bride."
KING CHARLES'S VEGETABLE NECKTIE.KING CHARLES'S VEGETABLE NECKTIE.
"You don't mean," said the traveler incredulously, "that mosquito-netting and bridal dresses grow on trees, do you?"
"That is just what I mean," replied his host.
"All right," said the stranger, who fancied a joke was being attempted at his expense, "let me see you gather the fruit and I will believe you."
"Certainly," was the answer; "follow the men, and you will see that I speak the exact truth."
Still looking for some jest, the stranger followed the two men who were to pluck the singular fruit, and stood by when they stopped at a rather small tree, bearing thick, glossy-green leaves, but nothing else which the utmost effort of the imagination could convert into the netting or the wedding garments. The tree was about twenty feet high and six inches in diameter, and its bark looked much like that of a birch-tree.
"Is this the tree?" asked the stranger.
"Yes, señor," answered one of the men, with a smile.
"I don't see the mosquito-netting nor the wedding-dress," said the stranger, "and I can't see any joke either."
"If the señor will wait a few minutes he will see all that was promised, and more too," was the reply. "He will see that this tree can bear not only mosquito-netting and wedding-dresses, but fish-nets and neck-scarfs, mourning crape or bridal veils."
The tree was without more ado cut down. Three strips of bark, each about six inches wide and eight feet long, were taken from the trunk and thrown into a stream of water. Then each man took a strip while it was still in the water, and with the point of his knife separated a thin layer of the inner bark from one end of the strip. This layer was then taken in the fingers and gently pulled, whereupon it came away in an even sheet of the entire width and length of the strip of bark. Twelve sheets were thus taken from each strip of bark, and thrown into the water.
A light broke in upon the stranger's mind.Without a doubt these strips were to be sewn together into one sheet. The plan seemed a good one and the fabric thus formed might do, he thought, if no better cloth could be had.
The men were not through yet, however, for when each strip of bark had yielded its twelve sheets, each sheet was taken from the water and gradually stretched sidewise. The spectator could hardly believe his eyes. The sheet broadened and broadened until from a close piece of material six inches wide, it became a filmy cloud of delicate lace, over three feet in width. The astonished gentleman was forced to confess that no human-made loom ever turned out lace which could surpass in snowy whiteness and gossamer-like delicacy that product of nature.
The natural lace is not so regular in formation as the material called illusion, so much worn by ladies in summer; but it is as soft and white, and will bear washing, which is not true of illusion. In Jamaica and Central America, this wonderful lace is put to all the uses mentioned by the native to our traveler, and to more uses besides. In fact, among the poorer people it supplies the place of manufactured cloth, which they can not afford to buy; and the wealthier classes do not by any means scorn it for ornamental use.
Long before the white man found his way to this part of the world, the Indians had known and used this vegetable cloth; so that what was so new and wonderful to King Charles and Governor Sir Thomas Lynch was an old story to the natives. Some time after King Charles received his vegetable necktie, Sir Hans Sloane, whose art-collection and library were the foundation of the British Museum, visited Jamaica. He described the tree fully, and was the first person who told the civilized world about it. The tree is commonly called the lace-bark tree. Its botanical name isLagetto lintearia.
THE PET GREYHOUND RESOLVES INDIGNANTLY THAT THE JAPANESE "MUST GO!"THE PET GREYHOUND RESOLVES INDIGNANTLY THAT THE JAPANESE "MUST GO!"
One cold winter night, not long ago, I took pity on a poor little dejected-looking yellow puppy, and invited him into my house. Having once taken him in, it was quite out of the question to think of turning him out again. I was not afraid that I might be robbing anybody, for he was the kind of dog that very few persons care to have. He was dirty-yellow in color, very lank of body, and he seemed to be made up of ill-assorted parts of different kinds of dogs. His legs, particularly, seemed intended for some other dog and acted as if they never would become reconciled to carrying the queer body to which they were joined.
I should have preferred a handsome dog, but since I had no choice, I determined to do my duty by the little outcast, and to give him such an education that in the beauties of his mind the ugliness of his body would be overlooked.
The first thing needed for him was a name; and I tried to think of something appropriate, but soon gave it up, and in default of a better title called him Bob. To teach him the name was easy. I merely called out the word "Bob!" every time I fed him. As it was important that he should learn to look to me as the source of all his happiness and instruction, I permitted no one else to feed him. It took him about a week to learn his name, and to recognize the fact that all the blandishments he could lavish on the cook would be of no avail, and that his only hope was in me.
At the very outset, I had made up my mind that under no circumstances should he receive angry words or blows. He was a broken-spirited, affectionate little puppy, and I was resolved that if there was no way of teaching him except by brutality, he should remain ignorant all his life. The abject way in which, to this day, he runs from a child makes me feel sad. I fancy that much of his early life was spent in dodging stones or snow-balls thrown by boys—not cruel, but thoughtless boys.
It was necessary to control him, and I quickly discovered an easy way. He was such a sensitive little fellow that when he once learned to love me, he seemed to know by the tones of my voice whether I was pleased with him, and to have me pleased seemed to be the one object of his life. Therefore, if I saw him doing anything wrong, I had only to say sharply and firmly, "No, Bob!" and down would go the tail and ears, and he would slink shame-facedly to his special corner and from there watch me until I would call him to me and pat his head.
After a while, a quiet "No, Bob!" would effect the same result. This was a great victory, and made most of the subsequent teaching merely a matter of patience.
The first real lesson was when I undertook to make him sit up. If he had only known what I wished him to do, he would gladly have done it; but the words "Sit up!" meant nothing to him. He was almost too willing, for when I took hold of him to put him into a sitting position, he became as limp as a wet rag, and seemed to be trying to put himself into a condition to be twisted into any shape I chose.
Then I put him into a corner and set him up, saying continually, "Sit up! Sit up!" I held him up for a while and then took my hand away, but at once he collapsed as if all the stiffening had suddenly left his back-bone. Then I showed him a piece of sugar, of which he was very fond, and immediately he was himself again. Once more, and many times more, I put him in position in the corner, until at last, seemingly by accident, he failed to fall over when I took my hand away. I did not tax his endurance, but at once gave him the sugar.
It took him about three days to grasp the idea that "sit up!" meant a special performance, and that to achieve it meant a lump of sugar. Then I put him through the same process in the middle of the room. He missed the support of the wall at first, and fell over; whereupon he looked foolish. One fact was evidently firmly fixed in his mind, however,—the fact that there was sugar to be had if only he could do as I wished him to do. All the time that he was struggling for balance, he kept his eye on the lump of sugar, which I had on the floor beside me. Finally that lesson was learned, and he could sit up if I would put him in position. He knew, too, what "sit up!" meant.
After that, I would not feed him until he had first sat up; but it was a long time before he gained sufficient confidence in himself to sit up without help. At first I helped him up by both paws; then I helped by holding only one paw; then I merely touched one paw; then I only motioned, as if about to touch the paw; and finally I simply said, "Sit up!"
I think Bob reasoned this all out in his own mind and concluded that there must be some strange and beautiful power in the words "situp!" for he could see that whenever he did it, he had something to eat. I am obliged to confess that Bob loved to eat; and after he had learned to sit up, he was inclined to perform the feat morning, noon, and night, and it was, of course, impossible to make him go away without first giving him a morsel, however small, of food.