Wonder Plants

WONDER PLANTS AND

PLANT WONDERS

A. Hyatt Verrill

With foreword by Rod Turner

WonderPlants and Plant Wonders

© Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 ii

FOREWORD The first thing that grabbed me about this book was simply it’s

title. “Wonder Plants and Plant Wonders”. I had a little

knowledge about some strange plants, as gardening and nature is

my passion, but I soon found what little that was. Plants DRIVE

life on earth. What do I mean by this?

Well, the plant leaf is the only place on the entire planet where

truly new substance is created. This new stuff is made with the

energy of the SUN. With the exception of nuclear fission, all

other energy consumed on this planet comes from the energy of

the sun, and food for all animal life starts with the new substance

created by the plant.

So in my mind plants are pretty wonderful already. But the great

title got me in and what I found was that plants are even more

wonderful than I ever knew. The diversity of different plants on

this planet is nothing short of amazing.

What is even more amazing is what these plants do, how they

live, how they have made special niches for themselves. How

they depend on others and how others depend on them. How

some plants can even tell the difference between two humans and

react accordingly. The many and varied ways of ensuring their

survival, sometimes through some rather extreme behaviour,

really makes you wonder about that evolution theory!


© Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 iii

On the other side of the coin is how mankind has depended on

plants for the advancement of civilisation and obviously for food.

The myriad of amazing ways that man has found uses for these

plants products is a testament to the inventiveness of all

civilisations and their inventiveness to produce alcohol from just

about anything is also a rather common theme! What also really

got me was how the hell people found out how to prepare

poisonous plants to make them safe or even how to process them

into some of our most delicious and sought after delicacies. Sort

of like turning lead into gold really.

Now this tome was written quite a few years ago and some of the

amazing uses of some of our wonderful plants have fallen by the

wayside due to our petrochemical age, but when the oil runs

out……. you’ll know what to do. Anyway, we can thank the

existence of our oil deposits to, you guessed it, plant wonders of

the past.

After reading this book you are left with a great respect for plants

and the strange workings nature and I trust that you will be

empowered to try in your own small way to halt the sensless

destruction of the very life on earth that we depend on for our

own survival.

I hope you are also as gob smacked with this book as much as I

am.

Rod Turner

August 2005


© Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 iv

INTRODUCTION

PLANTS are the oldest form of life on our planet. Millions of

years before the first animal life appeared on earth or in the sea

there were plants of many forms, and ages before the great

dinosaurs existed, the mountains and plains, the valleys and the

swamps were hidden under a wealth of plant life. There were

great trees, giant ferns, tangled vines, immense flowers and

countless strange forms of plant life which vanished millions of

years ago, yet we may still see them to-day, for like the monsters

of the past many of the ancient plants were preserved in the form

of fossils.

Had there been no plants on our earth in those far distant times

there would have been no animals, for as every school-child

knows plants are essential to animal life. Not only do they give

off oxygen which animals breathe, and consume the poisonous

carbon dioxide gas which animals exhale and which is produced

by our coal, gas, and fuels, but they also provide food for in-

numerable creatures from insects to mankind. In fact, in some

ways, plants are the most important things on earth. And

although we may not realize it, there are plants everywhere.

There are plants on barren deserts and bare rocks; plants amid the

eternal snows and plants in steaming geysers and volcanic pools;

plants in the sea and plants in the air, and plants in our food. For

that matter there are plants in our own bodies, for


© Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 v

INTRODUCTION many of the diseases of human beings are caused by plant

growths, and plants in yeast are what cause our bread to rise.

Our most important and valuable foods are made from

plants; plants furnish us with most of our clothing, our buildings,

our furniture, and our fuel. The gasoline we use in our

automobiles, the oil we use to lubricate them, and the oil we burn

in our furnaces, our locomotives, and our steamships; the coal we

use, our paper, and countless other necessities and luxuries are all

derived from plants.

We are so accustomed to plants that we seldom stop to

think what very remarkable things they are. We see a spreading

oak- or elm-tree and welcome its shade or admire its beauty, but

seldom do we marvel at its growth or think of the story the tree

could tell if it could only speak of the scenes it has witnessed, the

historical events that have transpired since it was a tiny seedling

struggling for life among the weeds. Yet many of our everyday

trees were good-sized saplings when Columbus sailed westward

from Spain in search of the New World, while the enormous trees

of California were venerable giants when Julius Caesar was

conquering the Gauls.

When we eat potatoes or corn or drink a cup of cocoa or nibble

a chocolate-candy how many of us realize that these familiar

foods have strange fascinating stories as romantic and interesting

as any tale of fiction? We may think that the life of plants is dull

and lacking in thrills, interest or adventure, but if the plants, even

in our gardens, could tell us their stories we would

INTRODUCTION


© Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 vi

find their lives are filled with most exciting adventures,

hairbreadth escapes, wars and battles, tragedies and drama,

accidents and disease, hunger and thirst, luxuries and privations,

almost everything that enters into the lives of human beings. And

we would learn that every plant is a hero, that in order to survive

it has battled and struggled against countless foes, against terrific

odds, and that for every plant that has been victorious thousands

of others have died.

We may think that plants are lacking in intelligence, that

they merely live or die, flower and fruit, in their allotted way. But

there we make a grave mistake. Practically all plants possess

certain senses: the sense of touch or feeling, the sense of hunger

and thirst, the sense of taste and often the senses of smell and

hearing. Indeed, some scientists believe that certain plants can

feel pain, that they can recognize certain persons, that they

appreciate kindness and care. And it is certain that some plants

possess intelligence and learn to profit by experience.

In fact, the story of plants is one of the most fascinating of

all tales and the best part of it is that the stories of no two plants

are the same. The tiny marine plant that makes the Red Sea red,

the plants that cause our bread to rise, the plants we cultivate for

our food, the plants we know as trees, the plants that cure our ills,

the plants that sting or poison us, the plants whose flowers give

us pleasure - all have their own stories and their own histories,

and many of these are strange almost beyond belief.

It would require many books -- or a book larger than the

largest dictionary-to tell the stories of all the


INTRODUCTION plants or for that matter the stories of strange or remarkable

plants. But there are plants with such very strange habits or

which are so remarkable in other ways that they deserve a place

in the "Who's Who" of the plant world. In this book I have tried

to tell the stories of some of these strangest of strange plants as

well as the stories of other plants which are interesting and

remarkable for various reasons.

© Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 vii


© Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 viii

CONTENTS

Page FOREWORD. . . . . . . . . ii INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . iv I. WHAT IS A PLANT? . . . . . 1

II. THE PLANT DEPARTMENT STORE . . 19

III. THE MOST USEFUL TREES . . . . 33

IV. TREES THAT GROW WHILE YOU WAIT 46

V. PLANTS THAT CURE AND KILL . . . 56

VI. PLANT GIANTS . . . . . . . . 71

VII. INTELLIGENT PLANTS . . . . . . 89

VIII. PLANTS THAT BUILD RAFTS . . . . 102

IX. STRANGE PARTNERS . . . . . . 114

X. PLANTS THAT SAIL SEAS . . . . . 180

Xl. PLANTS THAT WE EAT . . . . . . 110

XII. WONDER PLANTS THAT WE DRINK . 158

XIII. MAGIC PLANTS . . . . . . . . 179

XIV. PLANTS WITH STRANGE USES . . . . 192

XV. PLANT TRAVELERS . . . . . . 211

XVI. PLANT PUBLIC ENEMIES . . . . . 228

XVII. WONDER PLANTS OF COMMERCE AND

INDUSTRY . . . . . . . . 253

XVIII. THE FIRST of ALL CALENDARS . . . 271

XIX. THE MOST WONDERFUL PLANTS . . . 279

INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287


© Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 Page 1

Chapter I

WHAT IS A PLANT? Do you know a plant when you see it? That may sound like a

very foolish question, for most of us are quite sure we can easily

recognize a plant.

But can we?

How can we identify a plant? For that matter, what is a plant?

What are its earmarks, its characteristics which are infallible

proof that it is a plant and not an animal.

Why, that's easy, you may exclaim. In the first place, plants grew

in one spot, they are fixed and cannot move about at will,

whereas animals do move about and are not rooted to the ground.

In the second place, plants grow and spread by means of seeds,

roots, and shoots, whereas animals increase by means of eggs, or

young born alive. In the third place, plants have foliage and

flowers which sprout from roots or stems, whereas animals retain

their same forms and merely increase or expand in size. Finally,

plants obtain their food from chemicals in the soil and gases in

the air, whereas animals feed upon other animals or upon plants.

And, you may add, plants are provided with the substance known

m chlorophyll which makes them green and enables them to

absorb energy from the sun, whereas animals lack chlorophyll

but obtain energy from animal or plant food.


All very well, but not one of these means of identifying plants is infallible. Many animals are as fixed or rooted as are plants, as for example the corals, gorgonias (sea-fans and searods) bryozoa, sponges, and others. And many plants possess the power of independent movement. The lizard tree (see Chapter VII), walking ferns, and many other plants travel far from the original plant, while there are plants such as the diatom

Diatom (greatly magnified)

and many bacteria which swim freely in the water or other liquids. Not all plants spread by means of seeds, roots, or shoots. Many forms of plant life increase by means of spores which are a form of egg, and there are animals such as the hydroids which propagate by shoots or buds. When it comes to a matter of foliage and flowers there are countless plants, such as the fungi or mushrooms, as well as cacti and other plants, which do not



possess foliage, while the fungi and certain other plants do not

have flowers. On the other hand there are forms of animal life,

such as the hydroidea, which spread about by branches and

shoots and produce buds or flowers which become free animals.

As far as food is concerned, how about the carnivorous plants,

the plants that devour insects, the parasitic plants that secure

sustenance from other plants living or dead? And there are many

plants which feed upon living creatures. One such is a fungus that

infests the

Edible fungus on grub

grubs or larvae of a beetle in the Pacific Islands. These queer

rodlike vegetable growths that spring from the head of the grub

and devour its tissues are deemed a great delicacy by the natives.

And there are innumerable plants which feed upon our own

tissues and those of various other animals. Moles, many skin

diseases, the well-known athlete's foot, and many ulcers are the

result of tiny plants which infest our persons and may even cause

death. Then there are the legumes, the peas, beans, clovers, and

so on which depend upon other plants known as bacteria to

supply them with nitrates which the bacteria manufacture from

nitrogen obtained from the air, while their hosts repay them for

this service by providing carbon foods which the bacteria cannot

make for themselves. It is true that the majority of the larger,




better known plants do contain chlorophyl, but many plants such

as fungi, bacteria, and the well-known Inthan pipe or beech drops

lack this substance. On the other hand there are animals which

are also provided with chlorophyl. The grasshoppers, katydids,

many larvae, the funny walking-sticks and the remarkable

walking leaves all contain chlorophyl, as do certain marine

animals. Even more strange is the fact that just as green

chlorophyl of plants becomes "ripe" and turns red or yellow in

autumn or on ripening fruits, so the insects provided with this

sun-energy-absorbing material "ripen" and become red or yellow

in autumn or under certain conditions.

Now then can we distinguish a plant from an animal? The answer

is that we can't, that is, not always. Even the most scientific of

scientists cannot say definitely whether certain forms of growth

belong in the vegetable or the animal kingdom.

Every one who has been in the woods must have noticed the

patches of moist slimy growths which occur on dead trees,

stamps, logs, decaying leaves, under stones, or on damp black

soil. Some of these are white, others greyish, while many are

most gorgeously colored with yellow, orange, or red; and they

vary in size from tiny specks to masses covering areas of a square

foot or more. Probably you have passed them by as some sort of

fungus and of little interest. But the slime-molds, as they are

called, are among the mast remarkable growths and are, perhaps,

the greatest of all puzzles in Nature, for they belong between the

plants and animals and scientists have never decided which they

are. Ordinarily the slime-molds are merely

masses of naked protoplasm called "plasmodium" and


crawl or move about like giant amoeba but very often they may

come to a halt, cease traveling and produce very complex and

beautiful spore-cases very similar to those of some of the mosses.

Perhaps you may think that such slime-molds and the fungi are

the very lowest forms of plant life. But there you are wrong. If

the slime-molds are truly plants then they are high in the

Slime-molds (1/2)

plant world, for they embody many animal characteristics.

Just where the fungi or mushrooms belong is a mooted question,

for these strange plants, as well as the bacteria, are laws unto

themselves and follow none of the accepted rules of plant life as

a whole.

But aside from these outlaws of the plant world the lowest forms

of plants are the algae, or so-called seaweeds This popular name

is far from appropriate, for many algae are freshwater plants, and



Various form of fungi (1/3)

there are various algae which thrive on land or elsewhere instead

of in water.

Among these are the tiny scarlet plants which live upon snow and

cause the "red snow" which often arouses fear of calamities

among ignorant or superstitious people. The color of the Red Sea

is also caused by algae. Other minute forms of these plants

produce the lovely blue and turquoise colors of tropical seas,

while another alga lives on the hair of sloths and protects the

creatures by its green color.

Few plants vary more greatly in form, size, and cater than do the

algae. Many are so minute that they are scarcely visible to the

naked eye, while others, such






as the deep sea kelps, are gigantic with leaves one hundred and

fifty feet or more in length. Some are long, slender, rodlike;

others have broad leaves like lettuce or cabbage; some have

branches and foliage, others are as delicate as ferns, or are

mosslike. The rockweed, so common on our coasts, is provided

with countless air bladders which serve as floats to the

dense-growing masses, thus preventing them from becoming

matted together and insuring a circulation of clear water among

the plants, while the sargassum or gulfweed is buoyed up by

miniature pontoons, and drifts about on the surface of the sea.

Every color of the rainbow and countless shades and

combinations of color may be found on the algae or seaweeds.

Many are dull brown or olive, others are vivid scarlet or crimson;

some are bright green, other blue, yellow, or purple, while many,

such as the common dulse or Irish moss, gleam and scintillate

with iridescent metallic hues. And while most seaweeds have

roots and grow like normal everyday plants, there are forms

which swim about freely. Among these are the tiny but

indescribably beautiful diatoms which are provided with hard

flinty shells or coverings of marvellous design, often resembling

the finest of filigree work.

Next in order on the plants' family tree are the mosses. Most

mosses and lichens are so small that even if we admire their

velvety greenness or their soft grays and lavender tints we do not

appreciate their true beauty or their strange manner of growth. To

really know the mosses as they are we should be the size of ants

or flies. It would be a most fascinating experience to wander

about in a jungle of mosses higher than our





heads, but we can obtain some idea of how they must appear to

tiny insects by examining them under a powerful lens or a

reading glass.

If you have never studied mosses in this way you will be

astonished to find what lovely things they are. No flower garden

ever showed wore delicate blossoms, richer foliage, or more

varied colors. Many are covered with beautiful flowers

resembling daisies, marigolds, dahlias or peonies of various hues.

Some send up slender stalks bearing gorgeous orange, yellow or

crimson "fruits." There are mosses which look like fields of

ripening wheat, others composed of miniature branching

evergreen trees, and still others that are tangled jungles, while

many are beds of delicate plumelike ferns. In addition to being

beautiful plants the mosses are very useful and beneficial. The

common swamp moss or sphagnum is a most useful moss.

Florists find it the best of all substances for packing plants and

flowers, for its spongelike structure retains dampness for a long

time. It is also very valuable material for dressing wounds, for

when dry it absorbs liquids with amazing rapidity, and during the

World War great quantities were employed by the surgeons and

many a man owes his life to the humble moss. Finally, this useful

moss provides heat and does the cooking for thousands of

persons, for the peat used as fuel in some lands is mainly

semi-fossilized sphagnum from ancient swamps and bogs.

Were it not for the mosses, most of our earth would be bare of all

plant and animal life, for animals cannot exist without plants and

the first plants to find roothold on barren spots are the mosses

and lichens.



As these plants die their stems, roots, and leaves decay and form

"leaf mold" in which other higher forms of plants take root. Thus

the lowly mosses pave the way for the grasslands and shrubbery,

the forests, and the jungles. But even before the mosses appear

the lichens blaze the trail that plant life follows.

Although most persons confuse mosses and lichens, the two are

very different and are quite distinct. Useful and beautiful as are

the mosses with their five thousand and more species, the lichens

are of much greater interest to scientists, for they are not single

plants but combinations of two separate plants of different orders.

There are few if any stranger combinations in the entire plant

world than this, for every lichen consists of a fungus and an alga

living together on such intimate terms that they appear to be a

single plant.

The greater portion of the lichen consists of the fungus which

forms the "body" of the plant with countless, minute threads in

the meshes of which dwell the little algae. Strangely enough, the

fungoid plants which form lichens are almost never found

growing by themselves, while the algae are common when

growing free and quite independently. Perhaps you wonder how

these lichens spread if the fungus cannot live by itself. But old

Mother Nature has attended to this detail in most remarkable

manner. If you have ever examined lichen you may have noticed

the dusty appearance and "feel" of the strange dry plants. This is

caused by countless numbers of minute granules known as

"soredia" which are made up of a few cells of the alga

surrounded by the threads of the fungus host. Then when a

passing breeze wafts the dust away the

offspring of the two plants travel together to a new spot where

they continue to grow like Siamese twins.



Just why two such widely different forms of plants should always

join forces to get on in life is not definitely known. But the

beneficial results of the arrangement are obvious. The fungus

cannot absorb energy from the sun, for it does not contain

chlorophyl which the algae does possess, while the algae living

upon the spongelike fungus is protected from drying up and

hence can survive and prosper where otherwise it could not exist.

The result is a mutual benefit association which can thrive where

neither plant could live alone, and where few if any other forms

of plant life could exist. The last of all plants to endure the bitter

cold of farthest north and farthest south are lichens. The last

vestiges of plant life on the highest mountains are the lichens. No

desert, no desolate rock, no cinder pile or lava flow from a

volcano is too bare or repellent for lichens to find a roothold. As

if by magic, as if materialized from thin air, the minute "dust" of

the plants finds lodgement and soon the lichens cover rocks or

sand and commence their task of reparation.

When the Island of Krakatoa in the East Indies was blasted to bits

by the terrific eruption of 1883, not a visible trace of plant or

animal life remained upon the stricken, devastated spot. But

presently dust from lichens somewhere reached the island. Soon

lichens spread over the bare forbidding lava and shattered rocks.

Little by little the strange combination plants formed minute

quantities of soil and mosses arrived. As a result, the island now

bears a growth of green



jungle in which insects chirp and trill and birds twitter and sing.

Lichens are useful in other ways also. They provide us with dyes,

the most important of which is litmus, which is used on litmus

paper for determining whether a substance is acid or alkaline.

And, strange as it may seem, some of the lichens are edible.

The dry gray reindeer moss and Iceland moss that thrive on bare

rocks and ledges are lichens and appear about the least promising

of plants that one would choose for a meal. Yet reindeer moss if

properly cooked is palatable and nutritious.

If you have examined mosses closely or have studied them under

a lens you will have noticed how fernlike many of them appear.

And no wonder, for mosses are the ancestors of the ferns. Ages

and ages ago, before any form of animal life existed on earth, the

mosses grew to gigantic size and could we have seen them we

would at once have called them ferns. Some continued to go

onward and upward to finally become true ferns, while others

were content to remain small and obscure mosses.

Even to-day it is sometimes very difficult to feel certain whether

a plant is a fern or a moss, particularly in the tropical jungles.

Here one sees palm-trees covered with rich green moss, each

plumelike leaf several inches in length, and giving the effect of

green feather mantles wrapped about the trees. But have a care if

you attempt to secure a specimen or examine it closely, for the

palm is armed with countless encircling bands of close-set

six-inch poisonous spikes hidden beneath the attractive

innocent-appearing giant moss. Beside a



rotting fallen monarch of the forest is a mass of maidenhair ferns

higher than ones head, and with each fragile, delicate leaf-stem

armed with needle pointed spines. Upon another log we see a

great patch of yellow gleaming in the shadowy light like a sheet

of beaten gold. But if we break off a bit of the gorgeous lichen

our nostrils will he assailed by the stench of putrid flesh. Then

we catch a glimpse of another lichen -a cup-shaped growth of

bluish-gray and soft fawn upon the rind of an upturned tree. As

we approach it closely we halt and stare. A portion of the lichen

has come suddenly to life, and from a snakelike head bright eyes

are gazing at us and we discover that we are looking at a

sun-bittern upon her nest. A beautiful thing it is, like the nest of a

gigantic humming-bird and, like the home of the hummingbird,

covered with lichens which are so similar to the bird's plumage in

colors and markings that it is almost impossible to determine how

much is bittern and how much is nest.

Near at hand is a group of great hairy, brown trunks and glancing

upward we find that, instead of being palms as we supposed, they

are titanic ferns, tree-ferns with lacelike fronds thirty feet in

length.

We notice another tree whose trunk is half hidden under a growth

of green, and we step closer to examine the strange moss, only to

find that it is a dense growth of tiny ferns with fronds scarcely an

inch in length. Our feet sink knee-deep in a miniature jungle of

clubmoss and we pass through a dim aisle where enormous ferns

form a green archway overhead. But instead of the ferns seeming

gigantic and the mosses appearing as if viewed through a

microscope, we feel as if we had



been suddenly transformed to tiny pygmies, insect like beings in

a normal-sized forest.

At every step we make some novel and astonishing discovery,

and find some incredibly strange or bizarre form of plant life. We

brush against a tuft of grass and find its slender green blades cut

through our garments and slash our flesh like a keen-edged razor.

Pluck a magnificent orchid and instantly the flower will be cast

aside as myriads of ants are conjured from leaves and stem and

bury their burning jaws in fingers and hands. A six-inch shaft of

silvery gray sapling is in the path and with keen-edged machete a

blow is aimed at the obstacle. The steel blade shears through it as

if it were composed of wax and crimson blood pours from the

severed trunk. A little farther on an even slenderer sapling bars

the way, and again the useful machete comes into play. But this

time the steel makes no more impression upon the little shaft than

if it were a bar of iron. If we should light a camp-fire we would

find that certain sticks flared up as if soaked in gasoline, while

others placed amid the flames, remained untouched by the fire,

barely scorched, as fire-proof as though composed of concrete.

We might come upon the dead and decaying body of some

creature with ghostly- looking, livid growths sprouting from the

rotting carcass and spreading finger like branches oozing viscid

slime. We would be sure to find wild plantains with rigid stalks

of orange and crimson flowers like shafts of living flame, and if

we examined these we would discover that each cuplike blossom

was a miniature charnel house, a recess containing liquid filled

with the dead bodies of innumerable insects. We would see

plants



which at first sight we mistook for gorgeous butterflies, fuzzy

bees or huge caterpillars, and we would find insects so perfectly

disguised as leaves, twigs and flowers that unless we should

attempt to pluck them we would never suspect they were living

creatures.

But strange plants and their ways are not confined to the jungles

of the tropics. Many of our commonest and most familiar plants

have strange and remarkable traits which few suspect. We all

know that the sunflowers turn their faces towards the sun, that the

"four O'clock" flowers do not open until afternoon, that the

morning-glories bloom and fade before the day is many hours

old, that the evening primroses and the cereus cactus blossom

only at night. But how many know that the clover, the beans and

peas and other plants of their family, fold their leaves and "go to

sleep" when the sun sets and darkness falls? Even this is not so

strange as the habit of many trees, such for example of the

eucalyptus, which turn their leaves edgewise to the sun if there is

too much light. On the other hand, if trees require more sunshine

they will turn and twist and bend trunks and branches to avoid

the shade of leaves above, and many scientists claim that the

forms of leaves are dependent upon the amount of light required.

But to return to the question of "What is a plant?" If the

slime-molds prove a puzzle to scientists there are other forms of

life which might well prove a far greater puzzle to persons other

than scientists.

These are the hydroids, which live in the sea and in fresh water

where any one not a scientist would mistake them for seaweeds

or algae and would consider them true



plants. No one could be blamed for doing so, for their delicate

slender stalks sprouting from crevices or rocks, from dead

sea-shells, from the sandy bottom, from piles of wharves or

elsewhere are covered with delicate branches and clusters of buds

and flowers.

Many are very beautiful, being scarlet, yellow, purple, or green,

and some species bear numbers of white flowers with red centers

looking like tiny daisies. No one not in the know would ever

suspect that these pretty sea growths had any connection with the

jellyfishes swimming aimlessly about, yet the hydroids are the

jellyfishes' parents.

No wonder you are surprised, for few of Nature's marvels are

more wonderful and amazing than the life history of the

jellyfish-hydroids. The swimming jellyfish lays eggs and these,

instead of hatching into other jellyfish, find lodgement on the

bottom of the sea or on some favorable spot and, taking root,

sprout like seeds of plants, and produce hydroids. As these

hollow stemmed growths increase in size, buds appear upon the

stems and branches. But although they have the appearance of

plant buds and open and unfold flowerlike petals, yet the

hydroids' blossoms are really living creatures. Each is composed

of thirteen layers, and presently, as the lowest layer develops and

expands, the upper portion breaks away and, lo and behold! it

goes swimming off a true jellyfish. One after another thirteen

phantasmal, transparent, free-swimming animals are born from

the hydroid flower. But that is not all, for while some of the

jellyfishes' eggs sprout and grow into plant like hydroids, which

in turn bud and blossom into jellyfish, there are other eggs which

never produce


Hydroid and jellyfish (X 3)

hydroids but swim about and hatch directly into jellyfish like

their parents.

That a plantlike hydroid should blossom into jellyfishes is as

amazing as it would be if some shrub or vine should bud and

blossom into butterflies.

But in the case of the hydroids there is no question that they are

animals and not plants. Perhaps, far back in the dim and distant

past, millions of years ago, the hydroids' ancestors were true

plants, for scientists tell us that certain plants developed into

animals. And it seems quite fitting that we should find these

strange creatures still dwelling in the sea, for the sea was the

cradle of life, and all living things, both animals and plants, came

from ancestors who dwelt in the sea.




Chapter II

THE PLANT DEPARTMENT STORE We all know that plants provide us with many of our everyday

needs, our luxuries, and our necessities. The cotton and flax

plants furnish us with cloth, we eat many kinds of vegetables at

our meals and drink tea, coffee, or cocoa. If we smoke we use the

leaves of the tobacco plant and the rice or wheat plants supply the

paper for the cigarette, while trees furnish the wood for the pipe.

Most of our furniture is made of wood and plants are used for the

cane or fiber seats to our chairs, the kapok that fills some of our

cushions, pillows, and mattresses. Plants give us the rugs and

carpets on our floors, the draperies and curtains of our windows

and doors. We ride in automobiles with tires made from plants

and motors driven and lubricated by fuel and oil that have come

from plants. If we are ill the chances are that we will take

medicines derived from plants. If the weather is hot and we eat an

ice-cream cone the flavors we enjoy are those of plants, and in

winter time we heat our homes with coal or oil which ancient

plants have given us. We read newspapers, magazines, and books

printed on the prepared fibers of plants and in a thousand and one

other ways we call upon plants in order to live and to be

comfortable.

But most of these things bear little resemblance to the original

plants which have gone through long processes



of preparation and manufacture in order to adapt them to our

needs. Just think what a saving it would be and how convenient if

we could go out in the woods or into our gardens and pick our

garments from one plant, our cigarettes from another, our foods

from others, and the toys for the children from still other plants.

That sounds ridiculous and impossible, yet it is quite possible, for

there are plants and trees which supply all these articles and more

ready made. In fact, if they were all found in the same locality

they would form a real plant department store where one could

find almost anything needed to enable one to live quite

comfortably.

If you should be thirsty while in a tropical forest and no drinking

water was near you could slake your thirst at a plant

drinking-fountain. One of these is the travelers' palm of

Madagascar which has been introduced to many tropical lands.

This tree is not really a palm but is closely related to the banana

tree. The trunk resembles that of the banana, but the leaves are

borne at the tips of long stiff stems that grow alternately from

either side of the trunk and form a broad, flat, fan-shaped crown

The base of each leaf-stem is enlarged and forms a sort of closed

trough and always contains a quart or more of clear sweet water.

All that one has to do in order to secure a drink is to make an

incision at the base of a leaf-stem. But even if you were in some

spot where there were none of these strange trees you would not

have to go thirsty. In the tropical jungles the trees are everywhere

hung and draped with vines known as lianas, of all sizes, some as

fine as threads, others larger than the biggest of ships' cables.


Many of these are very useful plants and are true ready-made

cords and ropes and are used as fish-lines, ropes and twine by the

natives. They are as strong or stronger than real ropes and have

the advantage that they do not stretch, do not shrink when wet

and am not injured by remaining for a long time in water. Other

(about 20 feet high)

lianas when dried are known as rattan and are widely used for

making furniture, seats of chairs, and other purposes. Some

contain deadly poisons, others have great medicinal value. But

there are a number of the lianas which are true vegetable

drinking-fountains. If you examine the end of a piece of rattan

you will see a number of tiny holes or pores. These are really

small




tubes extending the entire length of the vine and serve as pipes or

veins through which the sap flows when the vine is alive. If you

cut off a living liana a steady stream of liquid will run or drip

from these tubes. Usually the fluid is white or yellowish and

quickly hardens or coagulates to form a coating or scab across

the injured end---exactly as the blood of a human being or an

animal heals a cut in the flesh. Very often the sap is bitter or sour

or peppery, but many kinds of lianas have sap which is as clear,

as cool, and as refreshing as the purest spring water. But if you

should wish to take a drink from these plant-faucets be sure to cut

the vine in two places and use the section you cut off for your

drinking cup, for otherwise you will secure only a few drops of

water before the sap ceases to flow. Of course, a three or four

foot section of the vine will not contain a great deal of water, but

the supply is unlimited and the thirsty traveller can cut as many

pieces as he pleases.

If you prefer milk to water it is there in the forest ready and

waiting in the cow-tree. Don't expect to find a tree that looks like

a cow, for strange as it is the cow- tree isn't as strange as all that.

In fact it isn't at all strange in appearance, and looks much like an

ordinary rubber tree. But unlike the "milk" of the rubber tree, the

white juice that issues from a cut in the cow-tree is sweet and

really delicious and tastes much like real milk. It must be used

right away, however, fresh from the plant-cow as we might say,

for like the sap of the rubber tree it coagulates and becomes

gummy and sticky very soon after it is exposed to the air.

Perhaps, as you have been moving about, you may


© Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005



have torn your clothes. If so you may be able to find a needle and

thread growing on a plant ready to use. The thread and needle

plants are agaves or, as we usually call them, century-plants.

Each of the thick stiff leaves of these plants has a very hard sharp

spine at the tip. Cut off a leaf near the base, pound away the pulp

by beating it between two stones or pieces of wood, and you will

find the sharp spine needle attached to a number of long fine

threads as strong as linen.

To the Mexican and Central American Indians these

thread-and-needle-plants ate as useful as the reindeer to the

Laplander. The juice when fresh is a delicious beverage known as

pulque, and when fermented it becomes the fiery intoxicating

mescal. The roots are edible and when dried and ground make a

coarse but nutritious flour, the leaves are used for thatching the

Indians' houses, for making mats and other furnishings for the

Indians' homes, the fibers are used as twine, thread, and rope and

are woven on looms to form a fine, strong cloth which may be

sewed into garments by means of the thread and needles from the

plant's leaves. If your garments are so badly torn or worn that you

require new clothing the plant department store can supply your

wants. All you need do is find a lace-bark tree or "seda virgen" as

the Spanish-speaking people call it. This is one of strangest and

most interesting of trees, for the pith of the smaller branches

when unrolled appears like broad sheets of beautiful white lace,

while that of the larger limbs and the trunk is tough, strong,

finely woven cloth. In lands where this tree grows the

ready-made cloth and lace are used for a multitude of purposes.

The girls and women use the finer sheets of



lace for shawls, mantillas, and other articles of apparel. The

heavier clothlike sheets are used for clothing, mats, carpets, bags,

draperies, and is so strong and fibrous that it is twisted and

braided into whips, ropes, cables, and harness. The finest

portions make splendid surgical bandages, being soft and

absorbent, and until unrolled is always in a gem-proof package.

It is also made into fans and other utensils. When dyed in

ornamental designs it is very beautiful, resembling the tapa cloth

of the South Seas. It is so abundant and so easily gathered and

prepared that the natives who wear lace-bark garments seldom

bother to wash their clothes, but as soon as they are soiled cast

them aside and visit the plant-department-store clothing counter

and get a new outfit for nothing.

Even serviceable hats may be secured all ready to wear from

trees. But you will have to climb or cut down a cocoanut tree

(cocoa-palm) to secure one---or hire a native to get it for you, for

the ready-made hat is the soft brown, loosely woven covering of

the young flower buds of palm-trees. They are about two feet in

length, cylindrical in shape, with a pointed tip, and when

removed from the trees are only two or three inches in diameter,

but they may be stretched to a surprising extent and slipped over

one's head to form a cap something like those on pictured pirates.

It is much easier to obtain shoes than hats from the strange

plants. Tree-ferns are always abundant in tropical forests and are

real shoe-trees. The trunks of



these giant ferns are very tough and hard and are covered with an

interwoven mass of fibers in place of the usual bark. By cutting

off a slice of the trunk with the fiber bands in place, one secures a

very serviceable pair of sandals. All that one has to do is to trim

the pieces to the size of one's foot, separate the fibers and cut

away those not needed. Then, by thrusting one's toes under the

fibers at one end of the piece of treefern trunk and tying those at

the other extremity about one's ankles, one is shod with light

durable shoes that will outwear shoes of leather.

If medicine is needed there is the plant drag counter with

any number of remedies-quinine, calisaya, ipecacuanha, cascara,

palmetto berries, and many others.

If you wish a torch to light your way at night the gomier or

gum-ellemi tree will supply great gobs of partly dry gum which,

tied in a dry plantain or palm leaf, will burn with a brilliant white

flame in the rainiest or windiest weather and will give off clouds

of dark colored smoke with the odor of incense. In fact most of

the incense used in churches consists of this gum with

sandalwood and other materials added.

The gum of the gomier tree makes an excellent adhesive

and when smeared on sticks serves as birdlime with which the

natives capture many live birds, but the gum of the sapodilla or

chicle tree is much better. This is the basis of our chewing-gum

and was used as such by the ancient Mayas and Aztecs countless

centuries before a white man ever thought of chewing-gum.

If instead of a torch we wished a candle, there are plants where

our want can be filled. These are the waxpalms, and so rich in oil

are the fruits of some of these



that a wick inserted in the greasy fruit will burn with a clear

bright flame for several hours. Another palm known as the piva

would supply us with butter merely by boiling the fruit and

skimming off the fat that rises to the surface, while the flower

buds of the same tree would serve as a ready-to-eat breakfast

cereal.

For a fine and tasty salad there is nothing to equal the crisp white

heart of a cabbage-palm and by stripping the bark from the etah

palm and suspending it between two trees we would have a

ready-made luxurious hammock in which to loll.

Most persons enjoy an after-dinner smoke and feel quite

miserable when they find themselves in a jungle far from

civilization with no tobacco or cigarettes. But it isn't necessary

for a smoker to go without cigarettes in the South American

jungles, for all of the makings are there to be had for the trouble

of taking. Just ask the Indians and you'll be surprised. Slipping

into the forest an Indian will presently reappear and hand you

half a dozen or more cigarettes ready-made. Moreover, they will

have a much better flavor than many a factory-made cigarette

though they are not put up in cellophane-wrapped packages or

advertised over the radio. Where does the Indian get them? From

the cigarette tree, of course. To be sure the Indian doesn't know it

by that name but calls it "Tuk-eya-heya" which amounts to the

same thing for in his language that means the "tree that is good to

smoke." Neither does he pick the cigarettes neatly rolled and

ready to light from the branches of the tree, but scrapes away the

outer bark, peels off thin papery sheets of the inner bark, and

shredding the intervening fiber for filler




rolls it in the natural wrapper which he secures in place by a

winding of threadlike aerial roots from the same tree.

If one wishes a shelter to keep off the rain or the sun there are the

broad six-foot leaves of the scarlet flowered wild plantains which

only need to be laid like shingles on a framework of bamboos or

light poles; or the leaves of fan-palms which are equally good for

Wild plantain (1/5)

the purpose. If we are caught in a shower or even in a torrential

tropical downpour and there are banana or plantain-trees near we

can quickly secure an umbrella that will serve much better than

any manufactured umbrella we could purchase in a real

department store. Many of the leaves are eight or ten feet in

length and two feet in width, and if we secure a new leaf, untorn




by the wind, it is all we need, for by holding this on the end of a

sharpened stick or the point of a machete the green roof with its

eaves projecting beyond our shoulders will keep us dry in the

heaviest downpour.

Sometimes when traveling in the jungles one comes to a stream

too wide or deep to ford, or the traveler may wish to navigate one

of the jungle rivers. Without a boat or canoe or even a raft how

can he manage it? Just leave that to the Indians. In almost no

time they will cut and wedge a big cylinder of bark from a

purple-heart tree. Then with lianas or bush ropes they will wrap

and lash each end of the bark cylinder until smaller than the rest

of the piece. Cutting a few strong sticks they will force them

between the sides of the bark and presto! they have a light,

buoyant canoe known as a "woodskin." But they need paddles

with which to propel the craft, and paddles don't grow on trees.

Oh, yes they do---in the South American jungles -for the trunk of

the paddle tree grows outward in the form of numerous hips or

flanges a foot or more in width and barely an inch in thickness. It

doesn't take long for an Indian with a machete to cut off a portion

of one of these flanges and hew it into form and thus provide

himself with a perfectly good paddle. And if he needs a spear the

Indian secures the strong, straight light midrib of a palm leaf, fits

a razor-edged piece of bamboo to one end and has a most deadly

and efficient weapon. If by chance he should lose or break his

powerful six-foot bow he can quickly secure a substitute in this

great plant department store. Splitting a stem of bamboo

lengthwise, he turns the two pieces end for end,



shaves them to a taper each side of the center, lashes and binds

them together with wrappings of strips of fibrous bark or split

rattan and has a bow that will serve his purpose. But he needs a

string for it and this he secures from a clump of pita hemp or

arrow grass, the tall straight stems of which make excellent

arrows, while the long fibers in the leaves when twisted together

are stronger than the famous Manilla hemp.

Perhaps you think that by now we have exhausted the

possibilities of the plant storehouse. Do you wish a shave? If so

there are razors growing on plants all ready to use. These are the

seeds of a species of climbing grass and if you are not very

careful you will cut your fingers badly, for each seed is provided

with two tiny blades as keen as any steel razor blade. By grasping

a seed by the "beard"- which is much like that of wheat- and

drawing it across your skin, the tiny blades will shave off the

hairs as well as any razor ever made. But they lose their edges

quickly and a number of seeds must be used in order to secure a

clean shave. Of course they do pull some if they are used dry, but

that isn't necessary even if you have no shaving or other soap.

Just pick a handful of the yellow tendrils and the green leaves of

the soap-vine and moisten them and rub them on your face and

you'll have a lather as good as any one could wish. If there are no

soap-vines with their buff and black flowers perhaps there will he

a soap-berry bash or a soap-bark tree which will do just as well,

and if there are any Spanish bayonet or yucca plants near, their

roots rubbed with water will furnish excellent soap.

You can even obtain a ready-made brush and comb


if you wish. The leaf stem of a palmetto with the end pounded

and frayed will make a fine stiff hair-brush, and the stem of a

grugru-palm with the leaflets cut off an inch from the stem will

prove a very good comb.

If you require a bowl in which to wash your hands or a dish for

your food or a drinking vessel there are the hard-shelled fruits of

the calabash tree needing only to be emptied of their contents.

In fact there is almost no end to the needful things

Cannonball tree of the West Indies (1/16)

ready to use with little or no preparation. For that matter, you

may be speechless with astonishment to come upon cannonballs

growing on trees. To be sure I cannot imagine any one having

any use for cannon balls when in the jungle, but there they are if

any one wants them. As rusty as if made of iron long exposed to

the weather, as round and almost as hard and heavy as the

genuine article, they lie piled about the foot of



a large tree. If we examine them more closely we will find that

they are the fruits of the tree and are borne on short stems

sprouting directly from the bark of the trunk and branches. Some

are fully grown and have ripened and fallen to the earth while

others of all sizes are still attached to their stalks among the

rather handsome purple-red flowers of the tree.

Finally there are the toys that grow on trees. When a youngster in

the tropics wants to fly a kite he doesn't go to the nearest toy

store and buy one, neither does he tinker with paper and paste

and slender sticks and concoct a home-made affair that may or

may not fly. In the first place there may not be a store of any sort

within miles, in the second place he has no money with which to

buy a kite even if there were a store, in the third place he

possesses neither paper nor paste, and in the fourth place he

knows where kites grow on trees. So he searches about until he

finds a kite-tree with great broad oval leaves eighteen or twenty

inches in length and seven or eight inches wide with stout strong

midribs. A small liana no larger than trout-line provide the string,

and a few minutes later the brown skinned youngster has his leaf

kite soaring far up in the sky among dozens of other leaf kites of

the other youngsters.

A toy boat made from

a palm bud (1/8)




And when he tires of kite flying and he and his playmates decide

to have a toy-boat regatta they pick their boats off trees.

Climbing like so many brown monkeys up the cocoanut palms

they secure the hard woody spathes or coverings to the buds.

With strong roots or pieces of liana string they sew the open ends

of the spathes together, force little sticks between the sides and

have perfect miniatures of their fathers' dug-out canoes. A bit of

bark or wood cut to shape forms a rudder, a sliver of bamboo and

one of the kite-tree leaves make mast and sail, and launching

their plant-borne boats the boys laugh and squeal with delight in

the little craft, catching the trade wind, go sailing swiftly out to

sea. What if they are lost? They cost nothing and there are plenty

more to he had for the taking and scores of the strange little boats

go voyaging into the unknown before the boys tire of their fun.



Chapter III

THE MOST USEFUL TREES

WHAT trees are the most useful to man? Pines, oaks, fruit trees?

No, none of these familiar trees are so useful to mankind as are

the palms. Practically every need of man can be obtained from

the palm-trees. They supply food, drink, clothing, fuel, timber,

thatch, nets, twine, cordage, oil, butter, vinegar, liquors, utensils,

dishes, boats, fans, hats, shoes, combs, brushes, medicines, light,

carpets, sails, bedding, sugar, syrup, dyes, and many other things

besides. And no other group of trees can supply such a wide

variety of articles useful to human beings.

Symbols of perpetual summer, soft skies and balmy trade-winds,

the palms are the most familiar of all tropical trees. Indeed a

landscape does not appear tropical without these graceful plumed

trees. As a rule the palms we see so frequently in photographs

and other pictures of tropical lands are the cocoanut and the royal

palms, but these are only two species of the group which

numbers many hundreds of species, each of which is the source

of some useful or valuable product. Even the lowly saw-palmetto

of our southern states is a useful tree. The young leaf bud is

edible and delicious and is known as palm cabbage, the fiber of

the tree is made into brooms, brushes, cordage, and other articles,



the leaves are used for thatching buildings, and the roots are the

source of a valuable medicine.

The best known and probably the most useful and valuable

of all the palm trees is the cocoanut palm. It is a striking and

typical feature of every tropical shore and village throughout the

world. Its original home is unknown, for cocoanuts enclosed

within their tough, buoyant water-proof husks will float for

months upon the surface of the sea and when cast ashore by the

waves will sprout and grow, and thus have spread far and wide.

Some scientists claim it originated in the East ladies, others say

Africa, while many claim that the cocoanut palm is an American

plant.

The tree is perfectly designed to spread from land to land for it

will thrive luxuriantly on sandy beaches where its ropelike roots

are washed by the waves and its stiff, feathery leaves are thrashed

and torn by every breeze. Even when the shores are lashed by

hurricanes the majority of cocoanut palms survive, for old

Mother Nature has fitted these trees to withstand these terrific

devastating winds. The leaves are so formed that they offer little

resistance to a gale, the fronds streaming out and the separate

leaflets folding lengthwise when struck by the blast, while the

tough, flexible, fibrous trunk will bend and give without

breaking. And when the gale increases and the hurricane howls

and roars at one hundred miles an hour or more, and great trees

are snapped off like match-sticks, and housetops are carried

bodily away and locomotives are toppled from the rails and stone

buildings are mashed to bits, the short ropelike roots of the

cocoanuts give way and the palm, still intact, falls to the earth.

But the fact that





it has bean uprooted and lies prostrate doesn't trouble the

cocoanut palm in the least. Incredibly soon the roots have

regained a hold in the sand, the upper portion of the stem turns

upward, and the palm starts growing again, its truck flat upon the

beach and its crown of feathery leaves waving triumphantly

above it.

There is a Hindu saying that "he who sees a straight

cocoanut palm will go direct to heaven." No doubt he would, for

a straight cocoanut palm-tree would be about the greatest of

botanical rarities, a real freak. In fact it is doubtful if a really

straight cocoanut palm exists anywhere on earth or ever did exist,

for the cocoanut is a strict observer of the old adage: "as the twig

is bent the tree is inclined." From the time the palm sprouts from

the nut it struggles to lead an upright life while the wind strives

with might and main to bend it to its will. The result is that the

trees become bent and twisted into most strange and often

astonishing shapes.

Perhaps you may have wondered why the end of the dried

cocoanuts have the three smooth roundish spots that form the

"monkey face" on the surface of the nut. But if you should see a

cocoanut sprouting you would understand their purpose, for the

nut germinates while resting upon the surface of the ground, the

roots pushing out through two of the "eyes" and the bud breaking

through the other. When the leaves first expand they are whole

and spear-shaped, but in a few hours slits appear along the sides

of the leaves and the intervening materials become leaflets.

Once the plant has obtained a good start it grows very rapidly and

begins to blossom when from three to



ten years old. After that it bears continuously, year in and year

out, regardless of seasons, for eighty to one hundred years.

Although the dried nuts are the most familiar product of this

palm, yet these are but one of many of the products of the tree

and by no means the most important one. Perhaps the most

important of cocoanut products is copra, the dried meat of the

nut. This is the principal and in many places the only article of

commerce of many of the South Sea and Pacific Islands. It is

from copra, and to less extent the fresh meat, that cocoanut oil is

obtained. When fresh the oil is sweet and has a pleasant odor and

is widely used for cooking purposes. But it soon becomes rancid

and its principal value is for making soap. Soap made from

cocoanut oil will form a lather with salt water and is used

extensively on board ships. Butter also is made from cocoanut oil

and when properly prepared it is superior to ordinary butter made

from milk. Persons whose health will not permit them to use

animal butter find cocoanut butter a perfect substitute, while

fresh milk of the nuts is widely used in place of cows' milk for

making icecream, puddings, and other sweets. In the lands where

the cocoanuts grow the milk of the dried nuts is never used as a

beverage, the juice or milk of the green or "jelly" nuts being used

to drink.

A green cocoanut contains more than twice as much milk as a

dried or ripe nut and is totally different in flavor. Instead of being

sickish or insipid and "dead" it is clear, cool, and refreshing with

a peculiar and delightful tang to it. The meat of the dried

cocoanuts as sold in our markets is thick, tough, and indigestible,



but the meat of the green cocoanut is a soft, thick, creamy jelly

which may be scraped from the shell with a spoon.

The sap of the tree itself is another useful product of the

cocoa-palm. Boiled down when freshly drawn it is used like

syrup or molasses, and if allowed to ferment it serves as well as

yeast in making bread. If fermentation is continued to a certain

stage and it is then distilled the product is the fiery intoxicating

liquor of the Orient known as arrack. Alcohol is also an

important product of the sap and in the Philippines alone over

thirty million gallons of sap are collected each year. Each gallon

of sap contains a pound of sugar, yet very little sugar is made

from the palm sap.

Wherever the cocoanut palms grow the natives find some useful

purpose for every portion of the tree. The leaves are plaited

together to form a tight rain-proof thatch for the houses. Dried

and stripped they are woven into matting, rugs, curtains, and

even sails for boats. The rough fibrous husks covering the nuts

are retted in water and are the material from which our door-mats

are made, while quantities of the husk fibers are twisted into the

famous coir rope. The trunks of the trees make excellent timbers

for buildings and are used as posts and fences. The wood, which

is not true wood but is composed of pithy material filled with

hard homy fibers, is used for a great variety of purposes. As I

have already mentioned in Chapter II the netlike covering of the

bud makes a nice cap, while the, spathes are used for toy canoes

by the native boys. The hard shells of the nuts are made into



cups, dippers, jars, saucers, vases, spoons and other utensils,

while the stiff



sharp ribs of the leaflets serve as pins, forks, combs, toothpicks,

and are even used as needles.

No person who ever visits the tropics can fail to admire the royal

palms. They are the most stately, majestic and beautiful of all

palm-trees, as well as the largest. Unlike the cocoanut palms with

their twisted crooked trunks, the trunks of the royal palms are as

straight and symmetrical as though turned from granite upon a

giant lathe. Although there are many species of these palms all

are similar in appearance, all are beautiful and they are as useful

as they are attractive. From the crater of the crowns of royal

palms the best of all the palm cabbage is obtained. In the West

Indies this is called "mountain cabbage." Every cabbage taken

spells the doom of a magnificent palm-tree, for the choice white

vegetable is the very heart of the tree, the immature leaves, and

removing it kills the tree. Hundreds of the pitiful dead trunks of

lordly palm-trees dot the hillsides in the Antilles, and so many

trees have been destroyed for the sake of the cabbages that in

Cuba and other islands there are strict laws prohibiting any one

from taking palm cabbage.

As timber and lumber the trunk of the royal palm is far superior

to that of the cocoanut palm, and in the Dominican Republic and

some other islands, there are scores of houses built entirely from

products supplied by the royal palms. The timbers and rafters are

of royal palm wood, the walls are made of the hard durable shell

or bark of the palm buds, the roofs are thatched with palm leaves,

the owners sleep on mats woven from leaves of the palm, and

they eat the royal palm berries made into delicious preserves or

pickled like olives.



Another useful palm which is related to the royal palms is the

grugru or maho palm, abundant in the forests of the West Indies.

Several species bear edible nuts, their buds provide excellent

"cabbage" and the big fat white grubs or larvae of giant beetles

which live in the decaying heart of the trees are considered great

dainties by the natives. For that matter, I am very fond of these

"grugru worms" myself. They are cooked by spitting them on a

sliver of bamboo or palm leaf and toasting them over a fire. They

swell up and pop open like roasted chestnuts which they

resemble in flavor.

Other species of these palms have edible nutritious fruits and

many are exceedingly useful because of their tough and durable

wood and for their leaves. From the leaves of these palms the

Carib Indians weave their wonderful waterproof baskets. They

are used by the natives for making fish traps, for making sieves,

for thatching houses, for matting, and for many other purposes.

Still another valuable and useful palm is the pejibaye or

peach-palm of Mexico and Central America, for this palm-tree

not only supplies useful wood and leaves, but in addition bears

most delicious fruits. These are about the size of a crab-apple,

rich orange or scarlet in color, and grow in immense clusters

weighing as much as fifty pounds each. They contain more food

value than the banana and in the cultivated variety are usually

seedless. Although they may be eaten raw they are usually

cooked like squash, and are also used in making jams, jellies,

conserves, and the like, while many are fermented and are made

into a splendid rich wine.

Another very useful American palm is the barrel


palm of Cuba and other West Indian islands. This palm has a

remarkable swollen trunk and by digging out the soft pith and

fitting ends to a section of the trunk a one-piece, strong, and

serviceable barrel is made.

Of all the fruit-bearing palms the most valuable and

Barrel palm Cuba

(about 20 feet high)

important is the date-palm. Although not a native of America it

has been introduced, and in Arizona and California it is the most

valuable of all fruit trees, the date ranches of Arizona yielding the

greatest profit per acre of any land in the world.

Still, dry, ragged, and far from handsome, the date palm is

perhaps the least attractive of all palms, but when loaded with its

enormous clusters of bright yellow




or orange fruits it presents a most unusual and remarkable sight,

Nearly every one is familiar with vegetable ivory, but not every

one knows that the hard ivory like material is the nut of a South

American palm-tree. There are several species of the ivory-nut

palms but all are known as "tagua" in the countries when they

grow. The seeds or nuts are more or less triangular in form, about

twice the size of a big Brazil-nut, and are borne in hard thin outer

shells. When young they are filled with a white milk, like that of

the cocoanut, but as the nuts ripen this congeals and hardens to

form a finegrained albuminous substance which for many

purposes answers all the requirements of genuine ivory.

All of the useful palms I have mentioned have long plume like

leaves, but there are many useful palm-trees belonging to the

fan-palm group. These are stout, usually bushy, palms with

broad, fan-shaped leaves which in many places are transformed

into a great variety of useful and important articles such as hats,

baskets, trays, saddle-bags, panniers, and the familiar palm-leaf

fans sold in our shops. Objects made from the leaves of

fan-palms are strong, light and very durable and will withstand

very rough usage. In the island of Haiti or more properly

Hispaniola, the palm-leaf bags which are called "macutos" are in

use as market bags, coffee-sacks, cacao-bags and even

pocket-books. There is scarcely a school-child on the island who

does not carry his or her books and pencils in a bright-colored

handsomely woven macuto. Many of the products of tropical

lands come to us in macuto bags and the strong sacks in which

dates are shipped to us from



Africa and Asia are made from the leaves of a fan palm,

Still another class of very useful and valuable palm is the

wax-palm group of Brazil and the lower slopes of the Andes.

These trees have the trunks, and often times the leaves also,

coated with a secretion which is two-thirds resin and one-third

wax. This is a very important article of commerce, for when

melted and combined with a small amount of fat the palm wax

forms a perfect substitute for tallow or paraffin and is extensively

used in making candles and for other purposes.

One remarkable feature of the palms is the fact that many species

are peculiar to one country or even to a small area or to one tiny

island.

Among such isolated species of palms is the twin cocoanut palm

of the Celebes Islands. For many years the strange double nuts

were found floating upon the surface of the sea, but as no one had

ever seen them growing on a tree on land, and as they were such

weird strange things, they were believed to be the fruits of some

submarine plant. But when the Celebes were at last visited and

explored the remarkable nuts were found growing on palm-trees

which were about as strange in appearance as are the nuts

themselves. Unlike other palms which usually have tall or fairly

tall trunks and bear fruit at the top just beneath the leaves, the

twin-cocoanut palm has practically no trunk at all. The long

feathery fronds sprout directly from the surface of the earth and

the clusters of gigantic twin nuts actually rest upon the ground.

These were only a few of the palms of which more


than one thousand species are known, but among them all none is

more curious or remarkable than the giant talipot palm. Imposing

and handsome in appearance, with a stout rough trunk supporting

a huge head of great fan-shaped leaves the talipot form a striking

Talipot palm in flower (about 40 feet high)

feature of the landscape. But its real claim to distinction is its

amazing habit of growth and flowering which is not only unique

but is one of the unsolved puzzles of Nature and which, to our

minds, seems such a waste of time and material.

Being a slow-growing tree the talipot palm requires




from thirty to thirty-five years to reach its full size, by which

time its trunk is forty or fifty feet in height and its glossy green

leaves are eight to ten feet in length by twelve to fourteen feet in

width.

During all these years no sign of bud or blossom has appeared,

which is in striking contrast to other palms that usually begin to

bloom when quite young and continue to flower and fruit

constantly as long as they live.

But at last, when at the end of thirty years or more the mighty

talipot has reached maturity, a huge fleshy, naked stalk or spathe,

looking like a gigantic stalk of asparagus, shoots upward from

the center of the crown of great leaves.

This remarkable bud makes up in its speed for the slow growth of

the palm itself and in a few days towers high above the leaves

and sends forth many fleshy branches, until at last it becomes

transformed into an enormous vegetable candelabra rising more

than twenty-five feet above the leafy crown of the tree. Then,

eight weeks after the great bud has first appeared, it bursts into

bloom. Like golden-yellow tassels the flowers drape the

spreading branches until they cover the enormous candelabra-like

structure with a solid mass of gold. Sweet and exquisitely

scented, they attract scores of butterflies, and brilliant

humming-birds hover by hundreds about the vast floral display.

As soon as the flowers appear the leaves of the palm begin to wilt

and droop, the lower leaves turn to a dreary faded brown and

hang weakly down beside the trunk, as if weary with their long



efforts to produce the triumphant floral column rising so

majestically



above them. One by one the great leaves droop and die yet still

hold tenaciously to the parent stem, until the only sign of vitality

is that towering mass of golden bloom against the blue sky. But

as the last of the huge leaves turn brown the flowers too begin to

fade. Every passing breeze scatters the petals and stamens far and

wide while purple and green seeds take their places and birds and

insects desert the talipot feast for newer and more abundant

riches.

For six months this slow death continues with little change other

than the ever-increasing number of seeds. Then, when the last

seeds have ripened, the enormous flower stalk bends gradually to

one side, sways ominously and precariously in the wind and

finally crashes down amid the dead leaves. There it hangs, like a

broken spar, beside the sturdy trunk which has so bravely

weathered the storms of thirty years in order to produce the

flower which has brought about its death. Truly this is a plant

that commits suicide.



Chapter IV

TREES THAT GROW WHILE YOU WAIT

EVERY one knows the banana but very few know that the plant

which supplies us with the luscious fruits is one of the strangest

and most interesting of strange plants and serves many a purpose

other than providing edible and nutritious fruit. In fact it is one of

the most useful of all plants. The fibers of its stalks and leaves

are used for twine and rope, the well known Manilla hemp, as we

have said, being obtained from a species of banana plant, while

its leaves are used as wrappings for bundles, for packing fragile

goods, for thatching roofs of houses and other buildings, and

even for umbrellas. In the tropics where banana trees grow, a

native need never be drenched by a sudden shower. All he has to

do is to cut a fresh banana leaf and hold it over his head and,

Presto! he is protected from the rain by a broad green roof

extending to below his shoulders.

From the fruit-which is used as a vegetable when green, eaten

raw when ripe, or dried like figs---a vast number of useful

products are obtained. Among these are sugar, starch, dyes,

tannin, vinegar, syrup, and alcohol, as well as a very fine white

flour, which is particularly valuable for invalids or persons who

cannot eat ordinary white flour. Although in the North only the

yellow and red bananas are seen, yet there are more



than eight hundred varieties grown, and among these are fruits of

every imaginable form and color, no, not quite every color, for I

do not think there is any blue banana. But there are pale pink,

purple, green, orange, scarlet, crimson, buff, cream, colored

bananas; bananas that are streaked with mauve and green,

bananas that are covered with leopardlike spots of red end

yellow, green and black, orange and brown, and there are others

beautifully variegated and marbled with contrasting colors. Some

are tiny fruits barely three inches in length with skins as thin as

paper and with sweet sugary flesh, others are giant fruits more

than a font long and so lacking in flavor when ripe that they are

used only when cooked as a vegetable. Some are short and

almost melon-shaped, some are straight, some are curved in

crescent form and others are long and slender, but all are alike in

their manner of growth. All grew in bunches, each fruit turned

upward, and when its single bunch of fruits has matured the

parent tree dies.

When we see bunches of bananas hanging in our stores they are

always upside down and are suspended by the end of the stalk

where the bud and flowers are borne. If bunches of bananas were

hung right side up, as they grow on the tree, the individual fruits

would break off as they ripened, which is just what Mother

Nature intended they should do, for while cultivated bananas are

usually seedless and very rarely show more than traces of

infertile seeds, the original wild bananas contained large seeds.

We often hear people say how delicious a banana must be when

picked ripe from the tree and not infrequently they express

wonder that





with modern refrigeration and transportation bunches of bananas

are still picked and shipped when green instead of when ripe. But

it is not a question of transportation or refrigeration which

prevents this being done, for even in the lands where the bananas

grow it is necessary to pick or rather cut the bunches when green,

for if allowed to remain on the trees the fruits ripen and fall off

one at a time or are eaten by birds, rats, bats, and other creatures

as fast as they mature.

I have often wondered what becomes of the millions upon

millions of bunches of bananas which are brought into the United

States every week. More than sixty million bunches of the fruit

are imported each year and each of these bunches contains nearly

one hundred separate bananas. If every man, woman, and child in

the United States should eat half a dozen bananas every week

they could scarcely keep up with the flood of fruit pouring into

our great ports from tropical lands. Yet bananas, popular as they

are, are not eaten at every meal every day by every person able to

digest solid food, so what does become of so many bananas? No

one seems to be able to answer that question and neither can any

one solve the mystery of the banana's past history. The plant has

been cultivated for so many thousands of years in so many

different countries by so many races that it abounds in all tropical

lands and no botanist, no scientist, can name the native land of

the banana or say who were the first people to make use of its

fruit.

By far the most remarkable feature of the banana is its rapid

growth. For its size it is the most speedy of all known plants, for

within a few months the tender





green shoot pushing through the earth will develop into a big tree

fifteen or twenty feet in height, with a trunk a foot in diameter at

the base, with a crown of immense banner-like leaves and a huge

bunch of fruit weighing a hundred pounds and more. Indeed so

rapidly does the plant grow that under favorable conditions one

may actually see it grow. I do not mean that you can sit down and

watch a banana plant shoot upward like Jack's famous beanstalk,

and blossom and bear fruit while you wait. On the contrary, if

you wish to see a banana tree grow you will have to cut down a

good sized tree.

Unlike most trees which send out new branches from the bark or

roots-when the main trunk has been cut off, the banana tree sends

up a new shoot from the center of the severed trunk and this

develops so swiftly that it may be seen to grow. A banana stalk

which has just been severed, twenty minutes later was showing

the new shoot beginning to appear in the center of the old trunk.

In a few hours, the new shoot is nearly two feet in height while in

a short time later it has raced upward for several feet and had

spread four leaves. A month later the new tree was as large and

as flourishing as before it had been cut down and three months

later it produced a fine bunch of fruit.

The secret of this almost magical growth lies in the fact that the

stalk of the banana tree is not a true trunk but is composed of

undeveloped leaves rolled tightly together to form a compact,

strong and apparently solid stalk, but which in reality is

constantly moving



upward and outward as new leaf material is formed in the center.

If you roll up a sheet of paper and push on one end the pressure

will cause the other end to move forward by unrolling spirally.

The banana trunk grows in exactly this manner and when the

stalk is severed the central portion, continuing its unrolling

process, swiftly rises above the surface of the cut.

Even if the banana tree should be awarded first prize for rapid

growth it is not nearly so tenacious of life as many other plants

and even trees.

In the North the problem is to keep trees from dying, but in many

tropical lands the problem is to keep trees from living. Very often

one finds that what appears to be a hedge of trees was once a

fence, the posts of which have taken root and sent forth branches

and have become flourishing trees. In many localities, especially

in Central America, one of the greatest difficulties in maintaining

telephone lines is to prevent the poles from sprouting. Constant

vigilance is necessary in order to keep the lines from being

grounded or short circuited by the branches and foliage

springing from the bare poles, and many men are kept busy

watching the lines and cutting away the shoots as fast as they

sprout from the poles.

Even railway ties will take root and grow and only by treating the

wood with some chemical can this be prevented. On one occasion

while in Costa Rica I was traveling through a dense unbroken

jungle when I stubbed my toe and tripped over some object

concealed among the fallen leaves and undergrowth. Upon

investigating I1 discovered it was an old rusted and corroded

switch lever. Wondering how it happened to be in such



a strange place I searched about and to my surprise discovered

that I was on an abandoned railway track. But had it not beem for

the switch which had tripped me and a few of the steel rails still

remaining no one would ever have suspected it, for the wooden

ties had sprouted and grown into good-sized trees.

Although plants that refuse to die are far more numerous and are

more tenacious of life in tropical than in temperate lands, yet

some of the northern plants are just as tenacious of life as those

of the tropics.

Many of the willows are truly marvelous in this respect and

almost any twig or withe even when peeled, will sprout and grow

if planted in moist soil.

We are all familiar with the weeping willows so common in this

country and in England, yet all the weeping willows of Great

Britain and America owe their existence to a fragment of a basket

used as a container of figs sent from Smyrna to England. The

basket of fruit was given to Lady Suffolk. Alexander Pope, the

famous poet, was present when the gift arrived and drawing out

one of the withes of which the basket was made he remarked,

"Perhaps this will produce something that we have not in

England" The withe was planted in the bank of the Thames at

Pope's villa in Twickenham where it sprouted and grew into a

fine weeping willow tree.

Years later a young British officer who was about to leave with

his troops for the American colonies, plucked a twig of the Pope

willow to carry with him across the Atlantic. Having no doubt as

to the outcome of the Revolutionary War, he planned to settle

down in the


new land at the close of hostilities. Throughout the campaign he

carried the willow wand with him, carefully wrapped in oiled

silk, and at the end of the war he presented the twig, which he

had hoped to plant on his own estate, to John Parker Custis, son

of Mrs. Washington. Planted on the Custis estate of Abingdon in

Virginia the withe from the tree by the Thames took

Rose of Jericho Left: When growing Right: When dry and dormant

root and thrived and became the ancestor of all weeping willows

in the United States.

Telegraph poles and railway ties that sprout and withes filched

from willow baskets that grow into trees are not so remarkable as

the queer resurrection plants of the desert lands of our west, and

of Arabia. The western plant is related to the club-mosses or

princess pines; while the resurrection plant of Arabia and

Palestine, which is also known as Rose of Jericho and




Mary's Hand, is a member of the parsley or turnip family. But

both are equally strange in their ability to come to life after long

periods of remaining dormant. Possessing no true roots these

queer plants live on the most arid and waterless deserts where

their fernlike bronze-green or purplish leaves spread out in

rosette form at night or when there is any moisture in the air. But

during the beat of the day or when dry parching winds sweep

across the deserts the plants roll up into balls and are blown

about, often rolling for many miles before coming again to rest.

When taken from their native homes these plants may be kept for

years, dry, lifeless appearing spheres of dull straw-color. But if

placed in water, or moistened, they at once commence to unroll

and to expand, their faded leaves acquire a tint of green and

purple and in a short time they spread out into handsome rosettes

of ferny leaves.

Many other desert plants possess the ability to remain in a state

of suspended animation for long periods of time. A number of

species of cacti will readily take root and grow after having been

kept dry and apparently dead for many months. In the Andes of

Peru there is a strange cactus which grows abundantly on the

barest rockiest slopes where there is scarcely a trace of soil.

During the winter season, when the air is damp and misty, the

plants are green and fleshy and are covered with handsome

yellow blossoms, but during the summer season, when the air is

as dry and hot as though from some mighty furnace, the plants

shrivel and shrink and become black, withered, and fleshless. But

if gathered in this condition and placed in slightly damp sand in a

moist atmosphere the repulsive-looking black


and lifeless things soon show signs of resurrection. The shrunken

withered skins swell, and buds of green appear upon them. In a

few weeks the black remains have been absorbed by the new

growth and fleshy green cacti have taken their places.

But we need not seek upon the arid deserts, the bleak Andean

heights, or in the tropical jungles for strange plants that grow

while you wait and seem never to die,




for some of our own native plants are just as strange and

remarkable in these respects.

The wild portulaca or bitter-root, which is the state flower of

Montana, is one of these. Aside from being the state flower the

bitter-root is a staple food-plant of the Indians. Although the raw

root is very bitter and has a disagreeable odor when being boiled,

yet when cooked it loses both its bitterness and its odor and is

very nutritious. But the most remarkable feature of the bitter-root

is its resistance to conditions which would kill almost any other

plant. It is strange indeed that a hewn timber will still survive and

sprout, it is equally remarkable that a willow withe from a basket

will take root and become a tree, and it is astonishing that a plant

may be stored away in a dry spot for years and yet still spring

into life at the first touch of water. But that any Plant will survive

such treatment and in addition may be boiled and yet live is truly

amazing. Yet the bitter-root has been known to do this, for a root

of the plant which had been immersed in boiling water and was

then dried and preserved as a specimen in a botanical collection

for over a year not only sprang into life but grew and actually

flowered.

Chapter V



PLANTS THAT CURE AND KILL

ONE of the strangest things about plants is that so many of them

possess medicinal properties. There is an old saying to the effect

that for every ill there is a plant to cure it. This is almost literally

true, and in the early days of our country the colonists depended

almost entirely upon the plant medicines to heal wounds and

sores and to relieve sickness. Modern doctors and others may

laugh at the old "herbs and simples,'' but we must remember that

a very large proportion of our standard, most highly valued

medicines are plant medicines. Moreover, the greater number of

medicinal plants in use are natives of America and were not

known to white men until after the discovery of the New World,

although they had been in use by the Indians for countless

centuries.

Ipecacuanha, sarsaparilla, sassafrass, wintergreen, boneset,

striped maple, liverwort, feverfew, arrowroot, palmetto, papain,

calisaya, goldthread, viburnum, catnip, peppermint, pye-weed,

jimson-weed, witchhazel, yarrow, wild cherry, slippery-elm,

sweet-flag, dittany, yerba-santa, grindelia, greasewood,

dogwood, couch-grass, mullein, lobelia, cascara-sakrada and

many other medicinal plants and plant products were used by the

Indians, and are still considered standard rem-



edies. And what would the world do without cocaine and

quinine?

Of all medicines perhaps quinine is the most important. Tens of

thousands, in fact millions of people owe their lives to the

cinchona tree whose bark is the source of quinine and was used

by the South American Indians for thousands of years before the

Spaniards conquered Peru.

To the Indians of Peru, the tree and its medicinal bark was known

as "quina" but the name cinchona was bestowed upon the tree by

Linnaeus, the famous naturalist who, strangely enough, made the

mistake of transposing the letter "h," thus giving the tree a name

he had not intended.

It was in 1638 that the wife of Don Luis Mendoza, Viceroy of

Peru, was stricken with malaria, and despite every effort of the

Spanish physicians she became steadily worse until her death

seemed certain. Then, as a last resort, the despairing Viceroy and

the doctors listened to the pleas of the Indians and administered a

bitter decoction made from the bark of a forest tree. The effect

was almost magical. The fever was broken, the patient rapidly

improved and very soon was completely cured.

Realizing what a boon to humanity the magic bark would prove,

the Viceroy's wife carried a large quantity of the "Peruvian bark"

to Spain when she returned to her native land. Very quickly the

fame of the marvelous fever cure spread throughout the civilized

world and the bark, previously known only to the Indians,

became an important article of export from Peru.

Yet it was not until one hundred years after the





Viceroy's wife had been saved from death by its use that the

quina tree was described and christened with a scientific Latin

name by Linnaeus. Knowing the story of the Viceroy Mendoza's

wife, who was the Countess of Chincon, the great naturalist

decided to name the tree in her boner, but instead of calling it

chincona he misnamed it cinchona and such it has remained.

Even Linnaeus did not know that there were a number of species

of the tree, all of which have medicinal bark, although the yellow

cinchona or calisaya produces the best quinine. All are natives of

South America and grow only at an elevation of more than eight

thousand feet above the sea in volcanic soil where there is a

tropical climate with a rainfall of more than one hundred inches a

year.

To obtain the bark the Indians not only stripped the trunks but

felled the trees in order to secure the bark from the branches. As

there were no large groves or forests of the trees their numbers

were so reduced that the world was threatened with a complete

loss of the precious medicine. Fortunately, however, it was found

that the cinchona trees would thrive in other lands, and about

fifty years ago plantations were established in Java and

elsewhere. To-day over thirty thousand acres of land are devoted

to the cultivation of cinchona in Java alone and 99 per cent of the

bark is produced in that island.

Although an infusion of the bark is as efficacious or even more

efficacious than the commercial quinine, yet it is seldom used

except in its refined and prepared state. So even if the tree itself

was given its name in honor of the woman who first made it

known to the



outside world, its ancient Indian name still survives in the name

of the drug, quinine.

Another priceless blessing to the human race which was given to

the world by the Incan races of Peru is cocaine obtained from

coca leaves. To be sure cocaine has proved a curse as well as a

blessing to mankind, but the benefits derived from it have far

outweighed all the degradation and misery it has caused through

its used by drug addicts. It has deadened the pain and relieved the

agonies of millions of people, it has made many difficult and

dangerous surgical operations simple and safe. Before local

anaesthetics (of which cocaine was the first) were used, many

operations were impossible, while those which we now consider

trivial and painless were so agonizing that the subjects had to be

chloroformed or etherized into insensibility. Yet thousands of

years before our surgeons had discovered the pain-deadening

powers of the drug the Indians of Peru and Bolivia and Ecuador

had discovered its value as an anaesthetic and had made use of it

in performing truly amazing surgical operations.

It seems incredible that the pre-Incan and Incan surgeons,

equipped only with bronze and stone instruments, could have

amputated limbs, removed cancers and tumors, performed

cassarean operations, filled, crowned, and bridged teeth, and even

trepanned skulls successfully. Yet we have abundant evidence

that they did all these things and more. Hundreds of trepanned

skulls have been found in the ancient graves and tombs and a

very large portion of these show by the healed edges of the bone

that the patients recovered completely from the dangerous

operation. Some not only recovered but,



later on, were trepanned again. One skull from Peru has five large

apertures cut through the bone and all healed perfectly, while

another had a huge piece removed from the top of the cranium

and two other large pieces cut from the sides, leaving only a

narrow bridge of bone separating the holes. Moreover, in this

case the apertures were so large that silver and gold plates were

required to cover them, and as the skin, which still adhered to the

skull, had grown over the metal, and the bone beneath had

healed, we know that the man recovered and lived for years after

his terrible operations. Also many skeletons with a leg or an arm

amputated have been found, while pictures and pottery vessels

show men and women with amputated limbs and some even

wearing artificial legs. Even more difficult and painful operations

were successfully performed by these ancient Indian surgeons

and we know that they made use of cocaine as a local anaesthetic,

for on some of the sculptures and pottery, surgeons are shown at

their work and are represented actually using the drug to deaden

the pain of their patients. To be sure their method of using

cocaine was crude and far from antiseptic, for they merely

chewed the leaves of the coca plant and from time to time

expectorated the juice into the wound as they proceeded with the

operation. However, the results must have been satisfactory, for

unless the pain had been deadened so that the patient did not

squirm or move, the delicate operation on of removing a section

of skull and exposing the brain would have been practically

impossible.



ancient Peruvians used the coca leaves macerated with wood

ashes or lime and applied as a poultice.

Just how they discovered the properties of cocaine no one knows,

but for thousands of years the Andean Indians have been in the

habit of chewing the coca leaves to allay hunger, thirst, and

weariness. Among the most ancient specimens of pottery are

vessels showing men with one cheek distended by the little wad

of coca leaves and lime, and the practice is still universal among

the mountain and desert tribes. Without the lime or ashes the

coca leaves have no effect, for an alkali is necessary to extract the

cocaine from them. Unlike the use of cocaine by drug addicts, the

custom of chewing the leaves has no injurious effects and does

not become a mania or even a fixed habit. Indians from the

mountain districts who have chewed coca leaves for years almost

invariably abandon the habit when they make their homes in the

larger cities of the coastal district, and have no craving for the

leaves. The great majority of household servants in Lima and

other coastal towns are Indians from the mountains, yet it is rare

indeed to see one of these men or women chewing coca, although

the leaves are everywhere on sale in stores and markets.

Neither do the lowland Indians use the leaves, and I have never

known white men to acquire the habit, even if on long, tiresome

journeys they sometimes follow the natives' custom. The leaves

are chewed merely to deaden the sufferings of hunger, thirst, and

weary muscles and when provided with plenty of good food to

sustain him the Indian feels no need of the leaves.

Still another plant that has proved a boon to human



beings is the chaulmoogra tree, for the oil extracted from the

seeds of this tree is the only known aid in the cure of leprosy.

Countless men and women afflicted with the dread malady have

been restored to health and happiness by treatment with

chaulmoogra oil. Unfortunately it is not always efficacious and

moreover, the treatment is so agonizing that many lepers have

preferred to remain such rather than endure the suffering of the

cure. But corps of men are striving steadily to find a means of

treatment which will obviate this and at the same time render the

results more certain.

Oculists, too, depend upon a plant. They would find it difficult

indeed to carry on their profession without belladonna or atropine

which are derived from the same plant. And how many of us

know that the useful belladonna and the atropine, which oculists

drop in their patients' eyes in order to dilate the pupils so they

may be more accurately examined, are obtained from the

common deadly nightshade, The despised jimson-weed also

yields a drug, valuable in the treatment of asthma.

It seems strange that plants which are so poisonous should

prove beneficial and curative as well. But there are many plants

which will either cure or kill men depending upon how they are

used: aconite, nux vomica, strychnine; foxglove, or digitalis;

morphine and laudanum (obtained from the poppy) ; the

poisonous

henbane plant, from which hyoscyamine is obtained. Many other

widely used medicines are obtained from poisonous plants.

Still more will kill men but will not cure them, and same of these

are so deadly that there is no known antidote for them. There is

an acacia tree of Africa



which causes permanent blindness if it touches one's eyes.

Innumerable people have died in agony after eating poisonous

mushrooms or "toadstools," and the deadliest of all plant poisons

is the terrible curare or wourali poison used by the Indians of

South America for poisoning the darts used in their arrows. No

one other than the Indians knows just what plant or plants make

wurali so deadly, for the Indians use a number of different plants

when concocting the poison, and purposely conceal the true

source of its deadly character by adding harmless plants, hair,

bones, and various other substances to the brew. But so deadly is

the wurali that the least scratch of a poisoned dart brings certain

and almost instant death. A large bird, such as a wild turkey, may

fly a few yards before dying; a deer struck by a tiny wurali-tipped

dart may run a few hundred feet before death overtakes it, and a

human being may live for five or six minutes.

Yet this fearful poison is harmless if taken internally, provided

there is no cut, acre, or abrasion in one's mouth, throat or

stomach, for wurali is only deadly when it enters the blood and in

this respect resembles snake poison.

It may seem very remarkable that a poison which will kill or

injure a man by entering a wound may be taken internally

without serious results, yet this is true of many poisonous plants.

We all know the danger of poison ivy, yet the young leaves or

even the berries may be eaten without the eater being poisoned.

Stranger yet, the best means of preventing being poisoned by the

vine is to eat the young leaves in early spring. But don't make the

mistake of trying the same means of



inoculation against poison hemlock, poison sumac or poison

dogwood.

One of the most poisonous American plants is the manchineel

tree of the West Indies. Even water dripping from the leaves will

burn and blister one's skin. To bathe in water where there are

manchineel trees is to court serious illness or death and there are

numerous instances of persons dying from the effects of the

poison when they had sought shelter from rain by standing

beneath manchineel trees. The fruit resembles a green apple and

is deadly poison. Back in the eighteenth century a company of

British soldiers sent out as a garrison at St. Kitts, discovered what

they thought were edible fruits and bit into them. As a result the

men were all dangerously ill and a number died in terrible agony.

As every one in the West Indies is familiar with these trees it is

rarely indeed that any ill-effects result from their abundance, but

strangers should be very careful and should learn to recognize the

manchineel on sight.

There are other poisonous plants which are deadly if eaten raw,

yet are harmless and nutritious food when cooked. The common

jack-in-the-pulpit or Indian turnip is one of these. Although the

raw tuberous roots are acrid and poisonous, yet the Indians

discovered a method of transforming them into a valuable and

nutritious food. By leaching the roots in lye, boiling and drying

them and grinding them into meal the Indians prepare a flour

which is used in making cakes or bread with a delightful nutty

flavor.

We all know the delicious cashew nuts, yet the raw nuts before

being roasted are very poisonous and the



shell or "rind" contains a corrosive poison that will burn the skin

of one's mouth or lips like strong acid.

But perhaps the strangest and most remarkable poisonous plant

that is used for food is the cassava or manioc plant. There are two

varieties of this plant, one known as "sweet cassava" with edible

non-poisonous roots, the other known as "bitter cassava" with

roots which if eaten raw or merely cooked are deadly poison. Yet

the roots of this poisonous plant, which contain prussic acid,

form the staple food for hundreds of thousands of Indians of

tropical America and for thousands of white and colored people

and are the source of our tapioca.

This is wonderful indeed, yet it is even more wonderful that the

Indians should have discovered the secret. How they did so is a

mystery which no one can explain, Probably it was by accident,

just as so many great discoveries have been made. It scarcely

could have been by experiment, for the experimenters would

have died before they had carried their experiments far. But

discover it they did and thereby provided their descendants with a

food plant which yields abundantly where no other crops will

thrive.

In preparing the poisonous roots the Indian women carefully

wash and pare them, thus at the outset getting rid of a large part

of the poison, most of which is in or just under the outer skin.

Next, the pared roots are grated, chopped fine or ground between

stones. The damp soggy mass of pulp is then packed tightly into

a peculiar wickerwork device known as a "metapee." This is a

long cylindrical affair so woven that its diameter increases when

the two ends are pushed



together and diminishes or contracts when the ends are pulled

apart. With the metapee shortened and fully expanded the grated

cassava roots are packed into it and the metapee is hung on a

beam or a branch of a tree by a loop at one end, and a stout stick

or lever is thrust through another loop at the lower end. One or

two women then seat themselves on this lever and their weight

draws the matapee out, thus decreasing its diameter and exerting

a tremendous pressure upon the contents and forcing the juice of

the grated roots through the countless openings between the

strands. When no more juice is squeezed out the metapee is taken

down and the contents, packed into a cylindrical mass, are

dumped out. This is almost dry and is broken into lumps which

are rubbed through a basketwork sieve to form a coarse white

meal, and this is baked or cooked on hot stones or a sheet of iron

over a slow fire. Sometimes the meal is moistened and made into

big thin cakes, but at other times it is stirred and moved about

while cooking and forms a dry crisp meal known as "farine." In

either case the last traces of poison are driven off by the heat and

the cassava bread or farine is a nutritious food which, if kept dry,

will keep for months.

The starchy manioc meal is the source of tapioca, while the

poisonous juice extracted by the metapee is boiled down into a

thick brown syrupy substance known as "cassareep" This is

edible and forms the bases of the Worcestershire and other

well-known sauces, of our dining tables. In the countries where

the cassava grows the cassareep is used in making "pepper pot,"

which is an odd name for it as it is not hot and does not contain



peppers. Any vegetable placed in it will ruin it, but it has the

property of preserving and tendering meat and if heated every

two or three days it will keep good indefinitely. All that is

necessary is to add meat and fresh cassareep as fast as the

contents are used. Properly prepared this pepper-pot is a delicious

dish with a very rich flavor, and no matter how tough the meat

may have been when placed in the cassareep it will be tender and

delicate after a day or two.

Still another product is made from this strange plant, although

few white persons would consider it edible or, rather, drinkable.

This is "paiwari," an intoxicating drink made by the Indians from

scorched farine or cassava bread. It is prepared by the Indian

women chewing the cassava and expectorating it into a wooden

trough where it is allowed to ferment and is diluted with water.

The paiwari is the Indians' beer and is always served as the

welcoming draught to strangers who visit them. Disgusting and

nauseating as it may seem to a white person, the explorer or

traveler who visits the primitive tribes of Brazil and the Guianas

must overcome his repugnance and drink the paiwari if he

expects to win the friendship and confidence of the Indians. Like

the calumet or peace-pipe of our North American Indians, the

calabash of muddy looking paiwari is the symbol of friendship,

and refusal to accept it is equivalent to an insult and a declaration

of hostility. As a matter of fact the preparation of the drink is not

quite so unsanitary and repugnant as one might suppose. The

women who masticate the cassava are selected especially for this

duty. They must have perfect teeth, they must be healthy and free

from all



skin diseases, and before chewing the cassava they are obliged to

undergo a long and elaborate cleansing process of washing and

rinsing their mouths and teeth with decoctions of aromatic and

astringent roots and barks.

Finally we must not forget the pineapple. "Pineapples

poisonous!" you may exclaim. "Nonsense. Pineapples are never

poisonous." But if so you will be wrong, for decayed pineapples

supply the poison with which many savages poison their arrows

and darts which are almost as deadly as those tipped with wurali.

Quite aside from this strange use, pineapples are very strange and

unusually interesting plants. They belong to the bromeliad family

and are first cousins of the gray Spanish moss that drapes the

trees of our southem states. What we call the fruit is not a true

fruit but a cluster of hundreds of small fruits each with its own

core and its spiny hearts where the flowers matured.

But perhaps most interesting of all is that the pineapple is the

symbol of hospitality. When the Spaniards first visited the West

Indies they soon learned that whenever they came to an Indian

village or an Indian hut where there were pineapples or pineapple

tops placed near the entrance, the inhabitants welcomed them as

friends. The custom of using the fruit as the symbol of friendship

appealed to the Spaniards who carried it back to Spain. From

there it spread to England and when the British colonists settled

in Virginia and New England they brought the old Indian custom

back to its native land. But instead of displaying real pineapples

which, of course, they did not possess, the English settlers placed

carved or painted pineapples beside or above their doorways,

their gates



and even on their bedposts and other furniture, to indicate that

visitors would be hospitably received. The chances are that those

old ancestors of ours were wholly ignorant of where or how the

custom originated, while only those few who had visited the

tropics had ever seen a pineapple or knew what the fruit was. But

they did know that it was the symbol of friendship and hospitality

and that is why we see so many carved pineapples on the old

colonial houses.



Chapter VI

PLANT GIANTS

IF a person were asked to name the strongest of all living things

he would probably say "the elephant." But in that case he would

be wrong, for the strongest of all living things are the plants.

Even the largest and most powerful elephant is a weakling

compared to little, delicate-appearing plants. This may sound

impossible, yet no elephant can perform such prodigious feats of

strength as do the plants which the big beasts eat.

A slender threadlike root of a tree will rend solid rock asunder. A

sprouting seed will force its way upward through the hardest

packed earth and will lift soil many times its own weight. And

the most fragile of all plants-the weak and pallid mushrooms,

will break and lift concrete floors in their upward growth to find

light.

How do they accomplish such feats of strength? By hydraulic

pressure. Every one at all familiar with the laws of physics knows

that a hydraulic jack, consisting of a cylinder and a piston which

is forced upward by a tiny stream of water pumped into the

cylinder below it will exert terrific force, and is far more

powerful than a jack operated by mechanical devices. Any child

can easily lift many tons by means of a hydraulic jack, and in a

way, every plant is a living hydraulic jack.



Although few of us realize the fact, yet the sap of a tree exerts a

pressure of many hundred pounds to the square inch. It is this

pressure which keeps the stems and leaves erect and enables

them to resist heavy winds. It is this pressure which lifts the giant

trees high above the earth and it is this same steady irresistible

pressure that enables a root to burst rocks or a mushroom or

sprouting seed to lift tremendous weights and to break concrete

or even slabs of stone.

There is no mystery as to how the plants perform their miracles

of strength but it is a mystery how they secure and retain the

immense pressure of their sap.

Regardless of the solution of this puzzle, we must credit the

plants with being the strongest of all living things, and hence

giants.

And when it comes to size the plants again are the most gigantic

of living things on earth. The largest of all land animals is the

elephant and the largest of all creatures are the whales. Yet the

biggest whale who ever swam in the sea would appear a puny

creature beside the giant sequoia trees of California or beside

many other plant giants. No one has ever yet measured a whale

that was over one hundred and ten feet in length, no one has ever

seen an elephant more than twelve feet in height, and the

mightiest of dinosaurs who lived on earth measured only a trifle

over one hundred feet from tip of nose to tip of scaly tail.

Place such huge creatures as these mighty whales and these

amazing dinosaurs beside one of the giant California trees and if

standing on its tail it would be unable to reach the lowest

branches with its nose. And it would take a whole family of such

whales to equal





the bulk and girth of the enormous plant giant. In fact the mighty

whale would still seem small and insignificant if he were leaned

against any one of countless millions of trees in the great forests

of Central or South America. Many of these are more than two

hundred feet in height and soar upward for more than one

hundred feet without a branch, yet compared to the giant

sequoias they would seem as small as would a whale compared to

them.

Famed as they are for their size and age, yet the giant trees of

California are not the biggest or the oldest plants on earth. As far

as is known, few if any of the sequoia trees are over 4,000 years

old which is a ripe old age when we stop to consider that they

were good-sized saplings when Moses was found amid the

bulrushes. Yet these venerable sequoias are mere infants by

comparison with the giant cypress trees of Mexico, such as the

famous cypress of Chapultepec, which is said to be 6,270 years

old. Think of it! A tree that was hoary with age when Abraham

lived. A tree that was as old as the sequoias are to-day when the

giant trees of California were tiny seedlings bursting through the

soil.

Although so much older than the big trees of California, these

almost prehistoric cypresses of Mexico would appear mere

dwarfs if placed among the mighty sequoias and redwoods.

Cypresses, no matter how old they may be, never attain the

astounding heights of the giants of the Golden State which tower

skyward for nearly three hundred feet. The famous sequoia

known as "General Sherman" measures 280 feet in height.



But what the Mexican plant-giants lack in stature they make up

for in girth, some measuring 120 feet in circumference or almost

40 feet in diameter, whereas the largest of the California giant

trees are less than 100 feet in circumference at the base. Both the

giant cypresses and the giant sequoias and redwoods are

evergreen trees and all are famous for their durable wood. In fact

cypress is probably the most enduring of all woods, for it will last

practically forever. Many of the mummy-cases of the ancient

Egyptians were made of cypress and are as untouched by decay

or the lapse of thousands of years as though made yesterday. The

original doors of St. Peter's Church in Rome were made of

cypress and lasted untouched by decay or rot for eleven hundred

years when Pope Eugenius the Fourth had them replaced with

bronze doors. Even when buried underground in moist soil or

submerged in water, cypress wood remains solid and sound for

centuries.

Almost as indestructible by time and the elements is the timber of

California's giant redwoods and sequoias, and in one respect their

wood is superior to cypress, for it contains practically no resin

and hence will not burn readily. In fact the wood of the sequoia

trees is so non-inflammable that it maybe said to be fire-proof.

Giants among trees are not confined to evergreens or conifers

such as the cypresses, the redwoods, and the sequoias, the

gigantic firs, and spruces of the northwest, the famous cedars of

Lebanon and the two-thousand-year-old junipers of Natural

Bridge in Virginia. In India and Africa, as well as in other

tropical and semi-tropical lauds, there are the giant fig trees or



banyans, The banyans might be called juvenile giants for they

attain enormous proportions in a very short time, comparatively

speaking. The giant sequoias, redwoods, and cypresses have

required thousands of years to reach their present size but a

banyan will grow from a seed to a real giant in a single century.

And unlike these other tree giants, who devote all their energies

to increasing their individual dimensions, the banyans develop

whole families of giants and form genuine forests by means of

shoots which droop from the branches, take root in the soil and

like Jack's famous beanstalk, develop into giant trees with

amazing rapidity. One of these banyan trees which is in the

botanical station at Calcutta, India, is only a trifle over one

hundred years old, yet the main trunk is over 15 feet in character

and has 250 supplementary trunks each from 5 to 8 feet in

diameter, as well as more than 3,000 smaller trunks. Although it

is barely 70 feet in height, yet it covers such a wide area that at

one time 7,000 people stood beneath its branches. And if we

should add the dimensions of this giant's 3,250 trunks together,

think what a stupendous girth this giant tree would have. Even

larger banyan giants grow in various places, one African explorer

having described a gigantic banyan which formed a roof

spreading over nearly an acre and forming a shade for a large

native village. Unlike the wood of the giant conifers, that of the

banyan is of no value, and as the trees are held sacred by many of

the races where they grow, they are rarely disturbed and grow to

great age and enormous size. Another tree giant is the baobab of

Africa, India and Australia. If plant giants are judged by girth



rather than height then the baobabs are the biggest of them all,

for while they never attain great height they become enormously

stout with trunks even larger than the Mexican cypresses.

Immense as they are they have none of the dignity and grandeur

of the mighty sequoias and redwoods and none of the age-old

appearance of the giant cypresses and gnarled cedars. Rather,

they remind us of the fat women of side-shows who are giants in

weight and corpulency. Showmen are well aware of the value of

contrasts or the truth of relativity as one might say, and by

exhibiting giants and dwarfs side by side the giant appears even

larger than he is and the pygmy much smaller, while by placing a

living skeleton near a fat woman she seems even fatter and the

emaciated man seems even more of a skeleton. If we consider the

baobabs as the fat women giants of the plants, then the giant

living skeletons of the vegetable kingdom are the palms.

Many species of palm-trees grew to immense heights with trunks

so slender that they seem utterly inadequate to support the crown

of long, plumelike leaves. Even the cocoanut palms look as if

they were top heavy and might double and break at any moment,

yet the tallest of cocoanut palms rarely reach a height of 60 feet.

Far more beautiful and stately are the royal palms with their

smooth symmetrical, granitelike trunks and drooping fronds.

These are real giants, for it is not unusual for royal palms to lift

their plumed heads over 100 feet above the earth, and under

favorable conditions they may become far taller. In the little

island of Dominica in the Lesser Antilles, there are a number



of these royal palms bordering a road in the Layou Valley, and

not one of these is less than 130 feet in height while the tallest

measures 155 feet from base to tip of topmost leaf-bud.

In Barbados there are, or at least were until quite recently, a

number of royal palms nearly 140 feet in height, while the giant

of them all was on the island of St. Lucia where its fronds waved

and thrashed like green banners over 200 feet above the earth. As

far as known this is the greatest of all palm-tree giants, yet it does

not appear as tall as many of the palms which grow in tropical

American forests. Here, where the interlacing branches form a

roof of vegetation which even the tropical sunlight cannot pierce,

there is a constant struggle among the trees, each striving to

thrust itself upward until its foliage finds the sunshine so vital to

its life.

In this endless battle for height the palm-trees are always the

winners, for they grow far more rapidly than the other trees and

their slender trunks and comparatively small heads enable them

to push through the jungle roof and rise high above the mass of

tangled branches, leaves, and intertwined vines. It seems strange

indeed to find slender stems, only a few inches in diameter,

extending straight as an arrow from the floor of the jungle and

vanishing amid the branches 100 feet or more above one's head,

yet with no sign of leaf, shoot or branch throughout their

polished lengths. But it is still stranger to look across the forest

from some eminence or from a river and see the heads of

palm-trees rising high above the jungle's roof on trunks which

appear no larger than pipe stems. I cannot say exactly how



high these attenuated tree giants are, for it is a most difficult, in

fact an impossible matter, to measure them accurately even by

triangulation. But in many places scores may be seen flaunting

their leaves 50 feet or more above the forest of trees many of

which are more than 100 feet in height.

It may not seem so very remarkable to find giants among the

trees, but how about violet, verbena, heliotrope, and pansy plants

60 feet and more in height, with stems 5 feet in diameter?

Impossible, you say. Not at all. Although we always think of

these familiar flowers as little garden plants, yet in the tropics

there are huge forest trees belonging to the same families as our

pansies and violets, our verbenas and our heliotropes. And their

blossoms are as lovely and as sweetscented as those of our

gardens. It is a most wonderful sight to see a huge tree

completely covered with odorous, brilliantly colored flowers, and

it is a still more remarkable sight to see great mountainsides and

endless forests gorgeous with pink, golden, white, rose, blue,

mauve, scarlet, cerise, lavender, and orange-colored blossoms as

if a gigantic crazy quilt had been spread over the roof of the

jungle.

In many places these giant flowering plants grow close to the

rivers with their branches overhanging the water, and as the

flowers fade and drop from above they form a multicolored

mosaic covering the surface of the stream for hundreds of yards

in every direction.

In sluggish creeks, tranquil backwaters, and sheltered coves,

there are other flower giants, for in such places gigantic plants

like our familiar arrow-head and pickerel-weeds spread yard-long

spear-shaped leaves




10 feet or more above the water, and flaunt huge spikes of waxy

white or rich purple flowers 5 feet in length and as thick as a

man's thigh.

And here is the home of the most gigantic of water lilies-the

Victoria Regia, with lovely flowers a foot or more in diameter

and with great platter-like leaves so immense and buoyant that

they will support a child.

In the humid swampy areas we will find giant pitcher plants with

urn like leaves quite capable of trapping the

Rafflesia, Madagascar

equally gigantic insects that hum and drone about in the warm

damp air. In such places we may come upon amazing giant arums

related to our lovely calls, lilies with enormous flower-spathes 6

or 8 feet in length rising above the huge leaves like gigantic

candles.

Big as are such floral giants, none can equal the greatest of all

giant blossoms, the raffiesia flower of Malaysia which measures

a yard or more across its curiously mottled, fleshy petals. If the

odors of flowers were in proportion to their size, what wonderful

perfumes could be made from some of these giant blossoms.




But in the case of the rafflesia it is fortunate that the strength of

flowers' scents do not depend upon their size, for the blossoms of

this gigantic parasitic plant give off the stench of putrid flesh.

Many plants are giants in one respect and not in others. Aside

from its enormous carrion-scented blossoms, the rafflesia is not

gigantic.

The largest of giant trees frequently have small leaves and tiny

inconspicuous flowers, while many plants have truly gigantic

leaves but can lay no claim to being considered giants in other

respects.

Among these are the giant caladiums, or elephant's ears, many of

which have edible tuberous roots such as the taro of the Pacific

Islands, the yautias of tropical America, the dasheens of the

Antilles and the taniers of the French West Indies. Other species

are widely cultivated because of their handsome leaves which are

variegated with white, yellow, red, or purple. All have large

leaves, but the true giants of the family are natives of the islands

of the South Pacific. Most appropriately may these be called

elephant's ears, for their enormous leaves are often 3 or 4 feet in

diameter and are borne on great fleshy stems higher than a man's

head. Yet even these great leaves, any one of which would serve

as an umbrella, are not so gigantic as the leaves of the apa-apa

plant of Hawaii. In appearance the leaves of the apa-apa are much

like geranium leaves magnified thousands of times. Found only

on these mid-Pacific islands, the apa-apa plants cover whole

mountainsides, their great fleshy stems, topped by the immense

five-foot leaves, forming a weird forest. Walking through it with

the gigantic leaves


shutting out the sunlight, a person realizes how an ant must feel

as the little insect moves about in a patch of violets.

Another similar plant with equally gigantic leaves

Apa-apa, Hawaii

is found only on Juan Fernandez, the famous island where

Alexander Selkirk lived with his goats and parrots, the original of

Robinson Crusoe. These plants, known as gunnera, are useful

giants, for the thick leaf stems, which are ten feet in length,

contain a great amount of water like sap and are chewed by the

natives




to quench their thirst when traveling about this almost waterless

island.

It seems very strange to find giant trees belonging to the same

families as our violets, verbenas and other garden flowers; to find

mosses as large as ferns and ferns as large as palm-trees; and it is

equally strange to find giant grass forming impenetrable jungles

of bone-hard six-inch stems towering sixty feet or more above

the earth. These giant grasses are the bamboos. Although there

may seem to be little resemblance between a giant bamboo and

the grasses of our lawns and meadows, yet if we examine a

bamboo we will find that in its manner of growth it is very

similar to a spear of grass. It has the same jointed, hollow stem,

the branches and bracts sprout from the joints in the same way as

those of grass, and the flowers are much the same. And the

bamboo is as useful as many of our more familiar grasses. For

that matter our most useful and valuable food plants are grasses.

Wheat, barley, oats, rye, rice, and maize are all grasses, and even

if the bamboo cannot be classed as an important food plant it

serves a manifold of useful purposes. What would the angler do

without a bamboo rod? How handicapped the clever Japs and

Chinese would be without bamboo with which to manufacture

furniture, matting, screens, musical instruments, and even houses.

And how about chop suey and other Oriental dishes without the

tender shoots of bamboo?

Useful as this giant grass is, there are other plant giants which are

just as useful. Moreover, these are leafless giants, for they are the

giant cacti. Every one who has traveled across our desert lands



of the southwest has seen the giant cacti, like enormous

candelabra, but few persons realize that these huge prickly plants

serve many useful purposes, or what interesting plants they are.

They are of vital importance to thousands of human beings. The

most casual observer will notice that the trunks and branches of

these desert giants are deeply grooved or fluted, but how many

know that this feature of the plants is vital to their very

existence? Without its fluted trunk the giant cactus or saguaro

could not thrive in the dry and desert areas where it is such a

conspicuous feature of the landscape. A most remarkable and

strange device it is, too, for during damp weather and at night the

grooves open or expand to absorb all the moisture possible, and

then closing, they retain the moisture during dry weather. Even

with this bellows-like arrangement for obtaining every atom of

moisture in the air, it is a miracle that these giant plants manage

to survive and even increase. Many creatures, birds, cats, bats,

and insects, devour the cactus fruits before they are ripe. Vast

numbers are gathered by the Indians, and the few which ripen

and fall are eaten by lizards and other ground-dwelling creatures

before the seeds can sprout. Woodpeckers, who find the giant

cacti ideal nesting places, riddle the trunks and branches with

holes. But instead of bleeding to death from these scores of

wounds, the cactus heals them quickly by forming a woody

growth lining the holes. These cavities form welcome refuges for

owls, hawks, and many other birds, While bees find them

ready-made hives in which to store their honey.

To the Indians the saguaro cactus is as useful and



essential as the cocoanut tree to natives of tropic islands. It would

be dificult if not impossible, for the Pimas, Papagoes, Cocomas

and other desert tribes to exist without the saguaro, for they

depend upon the giant cacti for food, drink, and timber. Early in

the spring the saguaros' flowers appear, covering trunks and

branches with their cream-colored petals, and developing into

large egg-shaped fruits which ripen about the first of July. Within

the prickly skin or rind is rich, crimson pulp which is slightly

sweet and juicy and is very refreshing and nutritious.

Great quantities of the fruits are eaten raw, but far more are made

into a thick syrup, much like molasses. This is stored in jars and

later on is made into the saguaro brandy or "wine" which is an

important accessory to the Indians' ceremonies, The fruits are

only one of the products of these giant plants. The seeds are

dried, ground into meal, and eaten as a cereal. The fibrous woody

skeletons of the dead cacti are tough and strong and provide the

Indians with building material for their houses, fences, furniture,

and other structures, while the wood-lined cavities formed where

woodpeckers nested, are dug from the trunks and branches and

serve the Indians as drinking cups and water jars.

Just why some plants should be giants while others belonging to

the same families or even the same genera should be tiny

things-real pygmies--is something of a mystery. We all know that

a plant growing in favorable surroundings with soil and climate

adapted to its needs, will thrive far better and will attain much

larger size that another plant of the same species in poor


soil and struggling for existence under unfavorable conditions.

Agriculture consists largely of providing the most favorable

conditions and most suitable soils for cultivated plants in order to

produce the largest possible growths and most abundant crops. In

this way plants may he produced which are true giants by

comparison with the rank and file of their kind.

On the other hand it is possible to produce dwarfs from giants, as

witness the fascinating dwarfed trees

Dwarfed tree (1/10)

of the Japanese who produce gnarled, twisted, ancient pines,

cedars, and cypresses a foot or two in height which are so exactly

like the great forest giants that they appear like full-sized trees

viewed through the wrong end of a telescope.

If man can reduce plant giants to plant pygmies and can induce

dwarf plants to develop into giants, surely old Mother Nature can

do the same. The seed of a normal-sized plant finding lodgment

in some certain soil in a new environment might attain gigantic




size, and its seeds taking root in the same locality would also be

giants. Perhaps, ages and ages ago, the ancestors of all plant

giants were small, and some becoming giants by chance survived,

while their smaller fellows fell by the wayside in their struggle

for existence and left only the giants to perpetuate their species.

Most surprising things happen in the plant world, and no one can

be certain just what the results may be when a plant is reared in a

new locality under conditions different from its native home.

When I was living in the West Indies I experimented with many

northern plants and flowers, and while the majority did well and

developed no new or novel characteristics in their tropical home

others did most surprising things. Perhaps the strangest of all was

the behavior of a Japanese morning-glory. Instead of growing

into a climbing vine as all normal self-respecting morning glory

plants should, it formed a short upright stalk, sent out a few

leaves, produced one single enormous blossom, and promptly

died.

Far more surprising was the result of introducing the

St.-John's-wort to New Zealand. Normally a little herb barely a

foot in height, the plant in its new home didn't know when to stop

and continued to grow and grow until to-day, eighty years after it

was taken to New Zealand, the little St.John's-wort is a real giant,

a sturdy tree forty feet in height.

But perhaps the strangest of all plant giants are the huge lily like

plants that grow on the mist-shrouded high plateau about the

Kaetuerk Falls in British Guiana. Here, beside the world's

greatest cataract, the



rocky tableland is covered with queer plants found nowhere else.

Among them are strange orchids, grotesque air-plants, immense

maidenhair ferns, giant sundews and blanket like lichens. But

most conspicuous of all are the stout-stemmed, lily like plants

with stiff sword shaped leaves six or eight feet in length. The

strangest feature of these giant lilies is that the bases of the leaves

are filled with water, and in these miniature aquariums dwell

golden frogs and tiny silvery fish which have never been found

anywhere else on earth,



Chapter VII

INTELLIGENT PLANTS

Do plants possess intelligence? Do they know pleasure and pain,

do they suffer when they are injured, do they recognize their

friends?

No one really knows the answers, but there are many

persons---even some scientists-who believe that certain plants

feel pain when injured, that they possess a certain sort of sense

which might be called intelligence, and that their roots or tendrils

serve as crude ganglions and take the place of brains. And every

one who has had much experience in raising trees, flowers, and

other plants knows that they certainly respond more readily to the

attentions of some persons than others. In fact, there are countless

instances of plants growing badly or even failing to survive when

cared for by one person, yet the same plants will thrive and do

splendidly when reared by another individual. We often hear

people say that a certain person has "good luck" with plants. But

is it so much good luck as it is the result of the plants "taking to"

the successful gardener?

Neither is there any doubt that certain plants behave in what most

certainly seems an intelligent manner. Vines will unerringly turn

and grow towards the nearest tree, netting, or other support.

Scientists may try to explain this by the theory that the vines are



guided by the shadow cast by the stake or tree, that they grow

towards the object merely because of the effect of light or

absence of light, just as the sunflowers turn their faces towards

the sun. But if that is the case how do they explain the matter

when a vine is surrounded by objects all of which cast shadows,

or when a trellis is so situated that it never casts a shadow, or

when the support the vine selects is always in the shade?

A British scientist carried on some very interesting experiments

in an endeavor to determine whether or not plants do possess any

intelligence or reason. In one case he planted a vine in a spot

where there were no trees, shrubs, or other objects which would

serve as supports. Then he placed a pole at some distance away

and almost at once the vine headed for it. Before it reached the

pole he removed it and placed it the same distance from the vine

on the opposite side. Without hesitation the vine doubled back

and started in the new direction heading for the pole as straight as

if it possessed eyes. Again the pole was removed and set up in

another spot and again the vine altered its course and made for

the support. Again and again the location of the pole was

changed and again and again the vine turned towards it

unerringly. But there was a limit to the plant's patience and

perseverance. After many futile attempts to reach the elusive pole

the vine finally gave up and refused to be lured by the pole even

when placed within a few feet of it. Not until the support was

placed in the midst of the foliage did it show any further interest

in it.

Even more remarkable and convincing was the action of a

trumpet-creeper growing in a garden in one of



our southern states. More than twenty feet from the vine there

was a dead tree with the rough bark still adhering to the trunk in

places. Although the creeper had never shown any tendency to

send exploring shoots in the direction of the stump, yet after a

fire built about the dead tree lied burned off the loose bark,

leaving the trunk bare and charred, the vine immediately started

towards it. For twenty feet and more a slender shoot made

directly for the dead tree and reaching it commenced to climb.

Completely abandoning its previous support, the creeper sent

trailer after trailer to the stump until it was completely concealed

beneath the vine's foliage. If this was not intelligence how can it

he explained? Surely it was not mere instinct or the effect of the

stump's shadow, for in that case the vine would have made for

the stump before it had been burned. Yet it was not until the

loose unstable bark had been removed, and the bare trunk

afforded a secure hold for the vine's tendrils that the plant

became interested in it.

Any one who has been south of the equator and who is interested

in plants will have noticed that in the southern hemisphere vines

which climb by twining spirally about a support turn from right

to left or anticlockwise; whereas vines (with a few exceptions), in

the northern hemisphere turn from left to right or clockwise.

Nothing will induce a northern spirally climbing vine to reverse

its direction and grow upward from right to left.

If you doubt it, just try it on a common morning glory vine. Take

a long shoot or sprout which has not started to climb and twist it

about a stick or a string


from right to left. Will it continue to grow in that manner? Not a

bit of it. Unless the stalk has been tied in place it will unwind and

start on its upward way from left to right. And if the stalk has

been secured so the vine cannot free itself it will double back or

form a loop and resume its normal and accustomed way above

the spot where it was fastened. Nothing could be more stubborn

and fixed in its determination to have its own

Vine' (1/2) Left: South of the equator Right: North of the equator way than a vine under such conditions, and south of the equator

the vines (with few exceptions), are just as stubborn when it

comes to spiraling from left to right. It is just as impossible to

induce a vine of the southern hemisphere to climb from left to

right as it is to force a northern vine to go from right to left.

Moreover seeds from a vine which, north of the equator, spirals

from left to right will produce vines south of the equator which

will grow only from right to left.




Just why this should be the ease no one appears to know with any

certainty. Possibly it has some connection with the sun or the

revolution of the earth or the fact that in one case the North Pole

and in the other case the South Pole is the nearest. But whatever

the reason the fact remains that some instinct or willpower

appears to guide the plants and cause them to refuse to be led

astray.

Far more remarkable and savoring of real intelligence is the

uncanny ability with which certain plants will find water or food

or will avoid obstructions.

The eucalyptus trees are famed for the manner in which their

roots will seek out water or dampness. The same British scientist

who tried the experiment with the vine tells of a most marvelous

case of a eucalyptus tree seeking water. The tree was planted

some distance from a stone wall on the farther side of which, and

many yards distant, was a drain pipe, one joint of which leaked

slightly. Great as the distance was and slight as was the moisture

that seeped from the pipe, yet the roots of the tree had found it.

Not only had the tree located the tiny area of moist soil caused by

the leaky joint, but its roots had been forced to go a roundabout

way in order to reach it. At the point nearest to the tree the wall

rested upon a ledge and the roots could not find a way. But

turning aside they had crept along until they had located a crack

through which they had forced their way and then, turning back

had followed their original course directly to the drain. Such

behavior certainly appears to border on real intelligence, but even

if the roots located the drain and were guided to it by the remote

dampness caused



by the leak the extreme sensitiveness of the roots is almost as

remarkable as if they had been actuated by intellect.

Many plants have roots or tendrils so sensitive or so well

provided with nerves or intelligence that when touched they will

not only draw away like animate things, but will telegraph other

parts of the tree or plant or send a message, as we might say, a

warning, that something strange or dangerous is near. If we touch

the tip of a vine's tendril with our finger or even with a stick or

other object, the tendril will curl up. But if left alone it will soon

uncurl and straighten out as before. Some species of vines, such

as the ivy, will even produce new and special roots when the vine

finds a contacting surface where no existing roots can reach it

and cling to it. Darwin, the famous naturalist, considered the

roots of plants acted as the brain does in the lower animals. He

wrote: "If the tip be lightly touched, burnt or cut it transmits an

influence to the upper adjoining portion causing it to bend away

from the affected side. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that the

tip of the radicle (root) thus endowed, and having the power of

directing the movements of adjoining parts, acts like the brain of

one of the lower animals."

The most remarkable of all plants in this respect are those known

as sensitive plants. There are many species of these, nearly all

belonging to the leguminous group which includes the locust

trees, the peas and beans, the acacias and mimosas, the lupines

and other plants.

Although there are a number of species of these


sensitive plants found commonly in the United States, even as far

north as New England, the largest and most remarkable forms are

inhabitants of the tropics.

It is usually necessary to touch the leaf or a stem of our northern

species in order to cause the little fernlike leaves to close up and

appear to shrivel. But so sensitive or intelligent are some of the

larger tropical

Sensitive plant (1/2) species that if a person or a large animal passes near them the

leaves instantly close. Even a sudden or loud noise will affect

them in the same way and, in the cases of those which are trailing

vines, if the extreme tip of a plant or a single leaf near the tip is

touched, every leaf will close. It is a strange sight to see hundreds

of leaves all shriveling and closing one after another in rapid

succession for a dozen yards or more. Amazingly swift is the

reaction of the nerves of these plants, and within the fraction of a

second after the first leaf closes every leaf over an area several

yards in diameter will be tightly shut.




Then when the plant finds that it was a false alarm and all danger

has passed, the leaves open one by one. But in every case in

which I have experimented with the plants, the leaf first touched

or alarmed is the first to reopen. It is as if the others signalled,

"You were the one who gave the alarm, now go ahead and find

out if it's safe for us to open up." And very cautiously and timidly

the disturbed leaves open, not all at once, but one at a time as if

half afraid and ready to close instantly if danger still lurks near.

Perhaps you may think that this is not because these plants are

intelligent, but is just a reflex action; but in that case wouldn't the

plants continue to close their leaves no matter how often they

were disturbed? They do not, however, but after a few times, if

no injury is caused, they remain with leaves open when touched.

And incredible as it may seem they actually learn to recognize

individuals. In Panama these plants are very abundant and the

roadsides are covered with them. It was here that I carried on

most of my tests and experiments and one day I made a

remarkable discovery. I had been in the habit of gently touching

the tip of one particularly large vine and it had never failed to

respond. But on this particular morning when I touched the plant

the first two or three leaves started to close and then immediately

opened. Again and again I touched the plant, even lifting a

section of the vine free from the ground, yet the leaves remained

fully open. While I was examining it and trying to induce it to

close its leaves as usual, a friend happened along. He had been

quite interested in my "monkeying" with the sensitive plants, as

he put it, and now stopped to



see what new test I was trying. When I explained that the plant

appeared no longer sensitive he reached down and grasped a leaf

to see for himself. Imagine my astonishment when instantly

every leaf shivered and closed !

Even my friend's interest was now aroused, for I insisted that the

plant had not closed a leaf even when I had handled it and that I

believed it knew me. Of course, he laughed at any such idea, but

when, after waiting for the leaves to reopen, I demonstrated that

it paid no attention to my touch and then, when he touched it, the

leaves again closed, he was as flabbergasted as myself.

Had this been the only instance in which a sensitive plant acted in

this seemingly intelligent manner I should have decided it was

merely a peculiarity of that particular plant or that it was the

result of some cause other than recognition of a human being.

But I soon proved to my own and my friend's satisfaction that

other plants acted in the same amazing manner. He became so

intrigued by the ability of the plants to recognize individuals that

he began "taming" one of the vines himself. I have never seen a

man more delighted and triumphant than he when after a few

days his "tame" plant remained unaffected by his touch yet

closed its leaves immediately when I touched it.

At the time I thought I had made an epochal and astonishing

discovery, but I discovered that similar experiments had been

carried on by several scientists and that full accounts of the

sensitive plants' remarkable ability to recognize individuals had

already been published.


Possibly these plants do not demonstrate intelligence by

becoming "tame," but their behavior proves that plants know by

some means when to protect themselves and when protection is

not needed.

Perhaps it will surprise many to learn that the holly,

Holly twig and a leaf from upper part of tree (1/2)

which is such an important accessory at Christmas time, is

another plant that knows when or rather where protection is

desirable. We are accustomed to think of holly leaves as prickly

and stiff, but if we examine a good-sized holly tree we will find

that the prickly,

armed leaves extend only a certain distance up the tree.




On the higher branches the leaves are very different, being quite

flexible and spineless, for the holly, having protected its danger

zone by ramparts of dense armed foliage, feels quite secure

beyond its leafy fortifications. Of course, matter-of-fact scientists

will declare that this habit does not indicate any intelligence on

the part of the plant, but is simply its manner of growth. But how

can they be sure that "manner of growth" is not actuated by some

sum of intellect? And how does it happen that the extent of the

holly's protected area varies greatly? In some localities the spiny

leaves may reach almost to the top of the tree whereas in other

situations they may be confined wholly to the lowest branches or,

in occasional instances, they may be entirely lacking. Anyhow it

makes the holly far more interesting and attractive if we credit

the plant with a glimmering of common sense and foresight.

Finally there is the lizard tree of the West Indian forests.

Personally I think that "centipede tree" or rather "centipede vine"

would be a far more appropriate name for this strange and

remarkable plant. Its long, jointed, green stalk clinging tightly to

the trunk of a tree by means of its numerous slender leg like roots

which spring from each joint, give the plant the appearance of a

gigantic green centipede despite the small and rather

inconspicuous leaves. But it is this plant's manner of spreading

rather than its form which is really strange.

As the clinging, jointed stem climbs upward, joints break off and

fall. If the detached sections find lodgment on a branch or other

portion of a tree they immediately



take root and commence to grow until three to five feet in length,

when their joints break away and repeat the process.

Very often, however, the sections fall to the earth, and it is then

that the plant behaves as if it possessed intelligence. Sending out

threadlike roots it crawls along the ground, not actually moving

but budding out new joints at one end. The truly remarkable

feature of this is the fact that the new joints unerringly grow in

the direction of the nearest tree. Reaching its goal the plant at

once begins to climb and after ascending a few yards it breaks

free from the portion still on the ground, which then produces

more joints which in turn climb upward. Very rarely a specimen

may be found which has climbed high up a tree and still remains

a portion of the vine on the ground. These, of course, cannot

spread as they have no rear ends to be dropped off. It might be

argued that this proves that the strange plants do not possess any

atom of intelligence. But even among human beings, as among

other forms of the higher animals, there are certain individuals

who do not care to propagate their kind. Just because a man

remains a bachelor throughout his life or a woman prefers to be

an old maid is no reason to declare them lacking in intellect. So

perhaps the lizard trees which fail to break away from the

ground-growing sections are merely bachelor or old maid plants.

It is now generally conceded that plants possess organs of vision

or eyes. Dr. Haberlandt has proved that plants can distinguish

light shades or colors. There are two forms of these plant eyes,

one simple, consisting



of cells which merely transmit light, while the others are more

complex and are formed of papillae with the surfaces forming

plane-convex lenses. In many respects these are very similar to

the eyes of many of the lower animals.



Chapter VIII

PLANTS THAT BUILD RAFTS

In many tropical forests especially near the large rivers, the bases

of many of the trees spread out in immense hips or buttresses,

often extending for twenty feet or more beyond the main trunk,

and only a few inches in thickness. Other trees are even more

peculiar. For their trunks end several feet above the earth and

are supported by numbers of slender wirelike roots which spread

in every direction. Both of these strange forms of growth serve

the same purpose, which is to anchor the trees firmly to the thin

soil and to prevent them from being uprooted by gales or floods.

But the wide-spreading buttresses also serve other purposes. By

constructing a roof of palm leaves across them they make

excellent camps, and quite frequently an Indian family may be

found dwelling cozily in a hut whose walls are two of the

immense extensions of a tree trunk. Also they afford most

welcome shelter from the torrential showers. On one occasion

when hunting in the Central American jungle, I was caught in a

terrific downpour and hurried for protection to the nearest tree,

where I squatted between two of the great out jutting hips, shel-

tered from the heaviest of the rain by the towering tree with its

dense canopy of foliage a hundred feet and more above my head.

As I waited there for the deluge to let up, I heard the sound of

something moving on the other side



of the living wall beside me, but paid no attention to it as I

supposed it was some bird or small creature. At last the shower

passed and rising I stepped from my temporary refuge, glancing

over the edge of the slab like wall as I did so. Imagine my

surprise when I discovered a big spotted jaguar snuggled against

the other side of the partition! Barely three inches of wood had

been between the big beast and myself as we both had waited for

the downpour to cease. For several moments we stared at each

other, the jaguar apparently as much astonished at my presence as

I was at his. Then with a bored yawn the giant cat stretched itself,

rose to its feet and trotted off while I stood staring after it, too

flabbergasted to shoot.

But my strangest experience with these buttressed trees of the

jungle was when I was on one of my expeditions in Guiana. It

had been raining hard and steadily for days-an almost incessant

downpour for three weeks, and the low swampy forest was

flooded, making it difficult beyond words to find a camping

place. At last, after a long search, we found a small spat of

reasonably dry land and, spreading the tarpaulin shelter and

slinging our hammocks, made the best of our cheerless,

water-soaked condition. Everything was wet; our matches,

tobacco, food, blankets hammocks, and clothing were soaked

through and through. But one of my Indians kindled a fire by

rubbing two sticks together and thereby brought to my notice

another wonder of the plant world. Searching about he had soon

found an etah palm and from it cut the flower-stem and a piece of

the bark. Both, of course, were wet, but despite their damp

condition he quickly



produced fire, a feat which would have been impossible with any

other wood.

Despite our soggy provisions we managed to get a meal of sorts

and dog-tired as we were slept soundly although wringing wet.

At dawn I was aroused by a shout from one of the men, and

opening my eyes, I gazed about in bewilderment. We had

camped at the edge of the forest with big trees towering back of

the shelter, and now the forest had vanished. We were

surrounded with water and seemed to be rocking gently. Then I

glanced about to find the forest on the west instead of the east,

and separated from our camp by several hundred feet of open

water. Not until then did I realize what had occurred. During the

night the rising water of the river had lifted a section of the forest

floor-trees, camp, and all-and the floating island thus formed had

drifted downstream, carrying us with it. By the merest chance the

plant raft had not broken apart, or capsized, and by an even

smaller chance our boat had remained with us, although we were

nearly twenty miles down river from where we had gone to sleep.

Such floating islands composed of sections of the jungle floor are

commonly seen when traveling on the rivers near the coast

during the rainy season. The soil is only a few feet in thickness

and rests upon a rocky or hard clay foundation. This is

completely filled with the roots of trees which are entwined,

interlocked and knotted together to form an almost solid mass

which is floated by the floods and breaks away in sections of all

sizes. But in nine cases out of ten the plant rafts topple over from

the weight of trees firmly anchored



by their wide-spreading hips and cable like stilts, or break into

fragments as the trees sway to the wind and the motion of the

current. It is seldom indeed that human beings find themselves

involuntary and unwitting passengers on such a raft, but it is

quite usual for other living creatures to go a voyaging in this

manner. Often the masses of detached forest will house quite a

menagerie. There will be frightened chattering monkeys, queer

spine-tailed porcupine rats, coatis and kinkajous, squirrels and

opossums, ant-eaters, and sometimes even a deer, a puma, or a

jaguar on board these forest arks. In some places they are a real

menace, not only because they endanger and impede shipping on

the big rivers, but because of the animal passengers they carry. At

Buenos Aires a force of men is constantly employed in

destroying these floating islands that come drifting down the Rio

de la Plata with their unwelcome visitors from the jungles of the

far interior.

In order to secure an ample supply of water for the Panama

Canal the Chagres River was dammed and an immense area of

land was flooded to form Gatun Lake. Much of this area was

virgin forest which on the higher portions of the inundated land

rose far above the surface of the great artificial lake. The

countless thousands of drowned trees presented a strange, weird

sight;

a dead forest of leafless skeletons, their bare branches and

massive trunks draped with fantastic air-plants, withered trailing

vines and masses of orchids. But gradually as their bases rotted

by the water they fell and drifting hither and thither became

entangled and inter locked and formed great rafts. Soon

vegetation appeared





upon them; rank grass and water-loving weeds found roothold

among the logs, seeds wafted by the winds or dropped by birds

sprouted and grew, and in an astonishingly short time the masses

of fallen trees and dead branches were transformed to floating

islands covered with a dense growth of tangled vines, ferns,

brush, and small trees. Oftentimes they would drift upon the

shores of the lake or would be stranded upon some of the real

islands that marked former hilltops rising above the water. As

they rested there for weeks, months, sometimes for years, snakes,

and other reptiles, small quadrupeds and even large animals,

frequented them, and birds nested in the vegetation. Many

remained immovably anchored to the shores by vines, roots, and

other growth, but many others floated free when the water rose

high during the rainy season and continued to drift about bearing

with them their little colony of furred, feathered, and scaled

inhabitants. Some were small but others grew to immense size,

for as they floated here and there they came into contact with

other drifting flotsam and fallen trees and these becoming

entangled with the waterlogged rafts and their burden of detached

jungle added more and more to the floating islands. Many were

or rather I should say are several hundred feet in length and width

and some are several acres in extent. No one would ever dream

that these jungle-covered islands are supported upon masses of

dead, waterlogged tree trunks and are not natural formations of

solid land. For that matter the majority of the larger masses have

become true islands, for as their size and weight increased they

have gradually sunk deeper and deeper until the original



rafts of dead trees now rest upon the bottom of the lake as

immovably fixed as though a portion of the earth itself.

As the living creatures, other than birds, upon them cannot

escape except by swimming, and as most wild animals are averse

to taking to the water, and as there is an abundance of food and

plenty of cover, these plant-formed islands are often richer in

wild life than the mainland. Deer, tapirs, and other large animals

inhabit them and they are favorite hunting grounds for sportsmen.

In the quarter of a century which has passed since the drowned

trees began forming islands, huge trees have grown upon them,

and the larger ones are now covered with a forest almost as high

as that which was sacrificed to provide water for the great Canal.

There are many plant-made islands other than these of Gatun

Lake. In Mexico and in Malaysia the floating islands formed by

masses of logs and other flotsam are used as farms and gardens

by the natives who have their houses and their cattle upon them.

If you were to visit one of these floating farms you would never

suspect you were not on solid land. Palm-trees rear their plumed

heads high above the shores, hedges of prickly cactus and

flaming hibiscus border the paths and fence in the gardens. Cattle

graze upon the grass in little pastures; great gnarled trees cast a

welcome shade over the little thatched huts of the farmer, pigs

wallow and root in the muck and the air resounds to the songs of

birds and the harsh cries of parrots and macaws.

Like the plant-made islands of Gatun Lake most of the larger

floating gardens of Mexico have become anchored



and fixed to the bottom of the lake, but many still remain afloat

as do those of the Malaysian floating farmers*.

Such floating islands built by plants are beneficial to man instead

of being a menace like the floating islands of the great South

American rivers. But the latter are far less of a menace than

another form of plant-raft which causes enormous damages and

affords employment for many hundreds of men who are kept

constantly busy destroying and removing these floating

plant-islands.

It seems strange that a little water plant with lovely sweet-scented

orchidlike flowers should block navigable streams, cover

thousands of acres of the surfaces of lakes, canals, and rivers

with impenetrable rafts of vegetation, choke locks and pumping

stations and become such a pest as the water-hyacinths have

proved.

Like so many of our worst weeds and plant enemies the

water-hyacinth is an alien and a most undesirable alien from

foreign lands. Its native home is in the Orient. But like so many

immigrants-whether plants, insects, birds, or human beings-it has

found our country so satisfactory that it has increased and spread

beyond all reasonable bounds. Like the common white daisy, the

quack grass or couch-grass, the wild carrot and the devil's paint

brush, the English sparrow, the starling, the gipsy moth and the

Japanese beetle, the lovely water-hyacinth, beautiful as it is, has

become real public enemy. Very fortunately for all concerned it

* Many of these floating farms are on artificial, floating islands. These are made of logs, woven withes and brush covered over with earth. The roots of the growing plants bind all these together into a solid fabric which has all the appearance of a natural floating island.


is a tropical plant and will not survive northern winters, although

it will stand a severe cold snap and heavy frost. In northern

Florida the temperature frequently falls well below freezing and

on the Suwanee River I have seen the thermometer only 12° F.

above zero for several nights in succession. Everywhere the

millions of

Water-hyacinth (1/3)

water-hyacinths wilted and shriveled and turned black. To all

appearances they were as dead as the proverbial door-nail. But no

sooner was the cold spell over and the sun shone brightly with

semi-tropical warmth than the water-hyacinths put forth new

leaves and were soon as healthy as ever. For that matter the brief

intense cold benefited them and at the same time made them even

more of a nuisance than before. Their shriveled collapsed leaves

allowed them to drift free from the masses © Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 Page 117





they had formed and to travel farther with the current and

everywhere new colonies and new rafts appeared.

Aside from the beauty of its fragrant blossoms the water-hyacinth

is a very interesting plant, most perfectly adapted to life on the

surface of the water. Each leaf-stalk is swollen to form a bulbous

float which contains air, so that the entire plant with its mass of

black wiry roots is supported by leaf pontoons. Starting from a

single fragment of root the leaves rapidly sprout and form the

buoyant floats which spread in every direction. Drifting with the

current, the plants lodge in backwaters or shallows, the roots

become entangled with water-weeds or attach themselves lightly

to the bottom, other floating masses find lodgment with the first

and as if by magic the spot soon becomes a solid mass of broad

green leaves, lavender flowers, and buoyant bulbous leaf-stalks.

Thicker and thicker the growth becomes; rapidly the plants

spread outward from the edges of the mass and if unchecked they

will completely cover the surface over an area of acres. And from

time to time when the current runs more swiftly than usual, when

a stiff breeze blows or when a boat is forced through the mass,

countless plants break away and go drifting off to form new

colonies.

In the Panama Canal Zone the water-hyacinths have become a

serious menace. They choke the feeder streams, clog the strainers

to the pumping station and they afford a breeding place for

mosquitoes. No effective means of combating them has been

discovered other than gathering and destroying them, and a small

army of men is kept busy raking and dragging the pestilent



tial plants from the water and piling them in great heaps upon the

shores.

In the drainage canals of the Florida Everglades they are even

worse. Many of the smaller canals are so choked and filled with

the plants that no trace of ditch or water remains, for under

favorable conditions the plants reach huge size with leaves

extending several feet above the water. They are also a great

nuisance in another way, for the Florida cows have developed an

acquired taste for the water-hyacinths and eat them greedily

whenever they have the chance, with the result that the milk from

a hyacinth-fed cow is so rank with the plant's flavor that it is

impossible to use it.

Perhaps eventually, the problem of this raft-making plant may be

solved by finding some natural enemy that will destroy it faster

than it can increase. One naturalist suggested that hippopotami

introduced to Florida would keep the water-hyacinths under

control, for the big amphibious beasts are very fond of these

plants. Why the idea was not carried out is a mystery, for

unquestionably the "behemoths" would greatly decrease the

floating plants. Possibly the authorities felt that the hippos might

prove a greater nuisance than the water-hyacinths, that it would

be out of the fryingpan and into the fire. But there should he no

difficulty in keeping hippos under control, for if they became too

numerous, an open season could be decreed and a new form of

game would be provided for hunters who would make short work

of the excess beasts. On the other hand, some one may discover

some commercial



use for these plants, but up to the present time their only useful

purpose is to serve as ornamental plants in the north and to

provide food for goldfish.

By far the strangest and largest of plant-made islands are those

formed in great rivers by stranded logs or trees. Even a very

small limb or stick or uprooted tree becoming stranded in a

stream may form an island or a cape. Once the object is securely

lodged, the current of the stream is split and flows to either side,

creating an eddy or an area of still water below the obstruction.

Here the silt and sand carried by the stream settles and piles up to

form a bar, while other bits of drift become lodged against the

first log or tree trunk. And with each bit added, more and more

slack water is formed, more and more silt accumulates, and

presently the bar breaks the surface of the stream and a new

island is created. Very soon coarse sedges, reeds, arums, and

other water-plants take root about the verges of the new-made bit

of land. Seeds lodge upon it and sprout and grow and rapidly the

size of the little island increases and it becomes covered with

vegetation. Sometimes a heavy freshet or a change of wind may

cause the new-made island to disappear before it has become

fairly established. But at other times it continues to grow and

increase until it forms a large heavily wooded island or, by

turning the current aside, it may gradually extend to the nearest

shore and form a cape or promontory.

It seems strange indeed that a single plant or fragment of a plant

can build a big island, yet there are many such islands in

existence.



In the Essequibo River in British Guiana there is a huge island,

nearly ten miles in length and two miles in width, with fields of

sugar-cane, a good-sized town and big mills upon it. Less than a

century ago the broad sluggish river flowed unbroken over the

spot where the island with its waving cane, its lofty chimneys and

its tramways now stands. Then one day a freshet brought

countless uprooted trees drifting down the great river. One of the

trees, torn from its forest home far up the river, became stranded

on a shoal. Other trees sweeping toward the sea became

entangled in its roots and branches and the fallen giants

commenced to form an island. To-day no trace remains of those

floating fragments of jungle, and no one who did not know the

island's history would ever guess that it owed its existence to

drifting trees carried seaward by a freshet.



Chapter IX

STRANGE PARTNERS

We all know what an important part the busy bee and other

insects play in the plant world. In most cases the buzzing bees,

the gaudy butterflies and moths, the flower-loving flies and other

insects who carry pollen from one blossom to another and thus

fertilize the flowers so that they produce seeds or fruits, are

customers of the plants rather than partners. The majority of

plants remind us of our shops with their window displays. They

dress themselves up with gaudy flowers or fill the air about them

with perfume or scents in order to attract the attention of the

insect shoppers. And just as the department stores or corner

groceries welcome any and all patrons, so most plants welcome

any old bee or fly or other insect customer who helps itself to the

plant's stock in trade.

But there are many plants as exclusive and as particular as any of

the swanky specialty shops on Fifth Avenue. No frayed and

ragged butterfly or humble bumblebee can enter their doors to

secure the sweets within. They cater only to certain favored

patrons and in place of impressive haughty gorgeously uniformed

doormen to keep out the undesirables they are provided with

cleverly designed portals which can only be opened by the insect

visitors they desire.

These devices to bar undesirable insect shoppers


produce many strange and often fantastic forms of flowers. This

is particularly true of the orchids, for these plants are among the

most exclusive and discriminating of all. There are countless

species but in nearly every case the flowers are designed to be

pollinated by some one or a few privileged insects. It is for this

reason that very few tropical orchids will produce

Vanilla bean orchid (1/6)

seeds when cultivated in the north, for the insects which fertilize

the flowers in their native haunts are absent and orchid growers

must pollinate their prizes artificially and by hand in order to

secure seeds and to hybridize the species and obtain new

varieties. Many orchids are so dependent upon some one insect

that they cannot fruit or produce seeds, when removed only a

short distance from their original home. One of these is the

vanilla plant, for the vanilla bean is the seed pod of an orchid.




In its native home in the hot, humid jungles of the lowlands of

Mexico, the vanilla, which is a vine which climbs to the tops of

the tallest trees and is often more than one hundred feet in length,

is pollinated by certain species of small insects. But when grown

elsewhere, even in other sections of Mexico, the flowers must be

pollinated artificially in order to produce the pods which are the

source of the flavor so widely used.

It is a very delicate operation and must be accomplished before

two o'clock in the afternoon, for the flowers exist for only five or

six hours after opening in the morning. An expert can pollinate

two hundred flowers a day by means of a small stick or sliver of

bamboo. With this he gently lifts the stigma of a flower and

presses out the pollen from the anther. As the object in

pollinating the flowers is to secure the finest and largest pods

possible, only a small portion of the flowers in each cluster are

thus treated. A healthy plant, however, will bear as many as two

hundred clusters of flowers so that even the small proportion

pollinated will yield a great number of pods. And as a pod eight

inches in length when cured will weigh twice as much as a

six-inch pod it pays the vanilla culturist to sacrifice numbers for

size. In the case of the vanilla orchid its exclusiveness is of real

benefit to man, for if the flowers welcomed any insect that

happened to come along so many would be fertilized that the

pods would be small and almost worthless, just as they are on the

wild vines where the flowers are patronized by the particular

insects which, alone of all others, are acceptable to this exclusive

orchid.

There are other orchids far more particular than the



vanilla. Some of these bar all insects from the inner precincts of

their gorgeous blossoms and rely wholly upon the probing beaks

of humming-birds for pollination. And not a few form regular

partnerships with certain insects which are as essential to the

welfare of the orchid as the plant is necessary to the life of the

insects.

One species of orchid which is a native of Panama is always

infested by hordes of vicious biting red ants. The insects make

their home amid the mass of roots and bulbs and the moment the

orchid is disturbed they swarm forth ready to do battle. On one

occasion I sent a fine large specimen of this orchid to a friend in

the States, first having made sure that all of the ant population

had been eliminated. Within my friend's greenhouse the shriveled

bulbs swelled with life and sent forth glossy green leaves, but

never a bud appeared. In vain the owner waited and watched, for

the orchid was new to him and he was most anxious to see the

flowers. But when, at the end of the second year, the plant still

declined to bloom, he decided that something was amiss and

wrote to me asking me to give him all details regarding the

orchid's home and habits, the kind of tree on which it grew, the

height above the ground, the atmospheric conditions of the

locality where I found it, the elevation above the sea and whether

it grew in sunlight or shadow. In my reply I mentioned the ants

and back came a cable asking me to send on a supply of the

insects.

This was easier said than done, but I solved the problem by

shipping another plant with its ant colony still intact. A few

months later I had a most enthusiastic letter from my friend. Not

only had the second



orchid blossomed, but the ants had spread to the first specimen

which had also bloomed. Moreover, the ants had swarmed over

the flowers, feasting on the nectar, and had pollinated them, and

seed pods were developing.

But my friend's elation was short-lived. Although the orchids

thrived in the artificially heated air of the greenhouse the ants did

not. For some reason they could not survive, and within a few

months not an ant remained and no more flowers ever appeared

upon the plants.

Here was a real partnership between the orchid and the ants. Why

the plants would not blossom without the ants I cannot say, but

beyond question their presence was essential, and when the

flowers did appear the vicious tenants did their bit by fertilizing

the blossoms. And in return for being provided with living

quarters and a feast of honey they protected the plant by

attacking any bird, beast, or man who attempted to molest it.

Even stranger is the partnership between ants and a plant found

in Java which is known as the ant tree. The woody root of this

plant is bulbous and swollen and so so filled with natural holes,

tunnels and galleries that it resembles a sponge. These provide

ready-made homes for a certain species of ant which always

inhabits the strange roots. Indeed, the plant is absolutely

dependent upon the ants dwelling in its roots, for without them it

cannot grow and thrive, while without the tree with its natural

ants' nest the insects cannot live.

But perhaps the most remarkable of these plant-ant partnerships

is that of a tropical American acacia tree





and a certain species of ants which are so vicious and poisonous

that they are called "fire-ants" by the natives. Like all the acacias

the tree is covered with thorns, which in this species are huge,

curved, double thorns with swollen bases which give them the

appearance of miniature water-buffalo horns. So impassable is a

thicket of these trees that the patois-speaking Negroes of the

French West Indies call them "Arrete le Neg" or stop the Negro.

Even if armed with a machete no one familiar with these trees

will attempt to cut a path through them unless compelled to do so

by necessity. The terrible thorns alone are bad enough, but the

bases of the thorns are always inhabited by hordes of the tiny

ferocious fire-ants, and the moment a tree is disturbed or a blow

is struck with a machete, they pour forth by thousands and swarm

over the intruder biting viciously like so many red-hot needles.

It would seem as if the ants were capable of protecting

themselves and that the fearsome thorns were ample protection to

the trees. But thorns are no protection from leaf-cutting ants and

other insect enemies which the fire-ants kill and devour, while

without the protecting thorns the ants would fall victims to many

a hungry ant-eater and other creature.

Interesting and strange as it is to find plants so dependent upon

their ant partners, it is even more remarkable to find plants which

are propagated and cultivated by ants. In South America there are

several species of ants which make their nests in trees and

construct hanging gardens where they cultivate plants to supply

them with food. Mouthful at a time the ants carry earth far up in

the trees and there press and



mold it into a huge globular mass in which they make their

chambers and galleries which are neatly lined with paper like that

of hornets' nests. Then, with their homes ready for occupancy,

the ants transform the outer surface of their houses into farms and

sow them with seeds of plants to provide food. But that is not all.

Incredible as it may seem, the plants raised by these ants have

never been found growing anywhere except upon the ants'

hanging gardens. Think of it; fourteen different species of plants

cultivated by these ants and found nowhere else in the world as

far as known. Where do the ants secure the seeds? No one can

answer that question, but scientists assume that the plants have

been cultivated by the ants for so many millions of years that new

species utterly distinct from the original plants have been

developed by the insects, and that the seeds from the gardens are

so carefully gathered and cared for that they never find roothold

elsewhere. In other words these strange food plants of these ants

are very similar to our corn or maize. Although hundreds of

varieties of maize are known, all are cultivated and no wild maize

plant has ever been found. In fact no one knows what plant may

have been the wild ancestor of Indian corn, for maize has been

cultivated for so many thousands of years by the Indians that it

cannot exist or seed itself without man's aid.

That ants should have become expert farmers and should have

produced food plants all their own is truly amazing yet in a way

it is not so remarkable as the fact that some ants raise

mushrooms. In one case the ants merely plant and cultivate plants

in their natural



surroundings, but in the other instance they raise fungi where the

plants would never grow naturally.

These mushroom-raising ants are the leaf-carrying or

umbrella-ants of the American tropics. Cutting bits of leaves

from trees and plants they shred these with their jaws, mold them

into pellets and with these form hotbeds which they impregnate

with the threads of a certain species of fungus which is never

found anywhere but in the ants' nests. The beds are very carefully

tended and weeded and as the fungus grows it is constantly

pruned to prevent it from producing fruits. This is essential, for

the ants feed upon the liquid or sap on the fungus roots and this is

not formed after the plants bear fruit. In this case we know how

the ants manage to establish new mushroom farms even if the

plants do not exist elsewhere, for when a queen leaves to

establish a new colony she carries with her a tiny pill of fungus

paste. This she carefully guards until a new brood of workers

have been hatched and are able to bring in the leaves in which to

plant the spores preserved by their queen.

Perhaps you may think that in these cases it is the ants rather than

the plants which are most remarkable. But is it any more

wonderful that insects should cultivate and produce unique plants

than that plants should exist only when cultivated and propagated

by insects?

Although all of these partnerships between plants and insects are

beneficial to both parties involved, there are many plants which

welcome insects for a very different reason. This is the case when

the insect visitors



benefit only the plants; for instead of insects eating plants the

plants eat the insects. There are many species of these

insectivorous plants which are not all of one family but belong to

widely separated groups. All are very strange and some are most

remarkable for the manner in which they capture their prey.

Moreover, they are not all denizens of the distant tropics, many

of them being common plants of our fields, swamps, and forests.

Perhaps the best known, although not the commonest of our

insect-eating plants, is the pitcher-plant, also known as

side-saddle flower and hunter's drinking cup. There are several

species of these strange plants found in the United States, but all

are inhabitants of swamps and damp meadows and all are easily

recognized by their curious pitcher or jar-shaped leaves. Our

eastern species are quite small with pitchers four to six inches in

length, but there is a species found in California which is a real

giant with pitchers three feet high. If we examine one of these

queer plants we will find what a wonderfully clever and

remarkable device Nature has provided to supply these plants

with nitrogen, for all insect-eating plants depend upon their prey

for the essential nitrogen which is lacking in the soil in which

they grow.

Each leaf has been transformed into a vase-shaped receptacle,

the edges of the leaf joining along one side and showing as a

slightly raised seam or scar on the outside and as a keel or fin on

the inner side, while above the open mouth of the pitcher a broad

flattened lid has been developed. The under surface of this cover,

as well as the edge of the rim or mouth of the pitcher



and the keel-like ridge, are coated with a sweetish slightly sticky

nectar, while the rest of the inner surface is smooth and slippery

and is provided with hairs all bending downward towards a little

pool of liquid at the bottom of the strange leaf. Attracted by the

bright red or purple blotches on the leaves, insects hasten to feast

upon the honeylike nectar and crawling over the rim of the

pitcher lose their foothold on the smooth slippery surface beyond

and slide into the death pool below. Even if they struggle to

climb upward they are baffled by the downward-pointing hairs

and quickly expire in the liquid which digests their bodies just as

an animal's stomach digests the food within it.

Some species of the pitcher-plants make assurance doubly sure

by quickly closing the lid of the pitcher the moment an insect

enters. Then, the instant the captive is killed, the lid opens and

the trap is ready for the next victim.

In tropical lands, especially in the East Indies, there are many

species of pitcher-plants which are very different from those of

our swamps. These are climbing vines and are provided with

tendrils formed by the midrib of the leaves which are extended in

long delicate filaments. Some of these serve to anchor the plant

to the trees and shrubs over which it climbs, but others serve as

insect traps and develop into perfect pitchers which hang from

the vine. Like those of our own plants these tendril-borne

pitchers are provided with nectar about the rims and the under

surface of the lid, but in this case the honeylike substance is

doped and the insects which sip it become stupefied and

befuddled and tumble into the "stomach" of the plant.



Although these pitcher-plants capture and devour insects yet

there are certain insects which are partners of the plants and live

unharmed within the "pitchers." One of these is a fly whose

larvae feed upon the decomposing bodies of other insects which

have fallen victims to the plant. The other insect is a small moth

and is a parasite rather than a partner, for the female lays her eggs

within the deadly receptacle and the caterpillars, emerging from

the eggs, feed upon the leaf, weaving silken carpets so they will

not slip into the pitfall, and eventually destroy the "pitcher."

A remarkable insect-eating plant which is quite common in some

parts of the United States is known as the fly-trap or Venus

fly-trap. It is a rather small inconspicuous plant with a flower

stalk rising above a rosette of broad-stemmed leaves. But if we

examine these leaves we will find that each is provided with a

curious extension with sharp spines along each edge while the

surface is coated with a purplish sweet substance. Projecting

from this are three hairlike bristles hinged at their bases and

forming a triangle. The whole arrangement is amazingly like a

steel trap and that in effect is just what it is. Presently a small bee

comes buzzing by, and attracted by the sweet moisture on the

leaf, he alights. Instantly as the insect's feet touch the sensitive

hairs which act as the trigger to the trap, the two sides of the leaf

snap together and the poor bee is a prisoner. Even if by chance

his entire body is not within the trap there is no escape, for he

will be impaled upon the sharp interlocking spines. In this case

the captive will meet a quicker and more merciful death, for if he

is confined within the leaf he will be digested alive by



the fluid excreted by the leaf which will remain tightly closed for

several days. Then when only the empty skin of the insect

remains, the leaf will again open, the remains of the bee will be

cast out and the trap will be set ready for the next victim.

Another plant which traps insects in its leaves is the butterwort,

which is very common in our southern states. Unlike Venus's

fly-trap, these plants bear handsome orchidlike flowers of yellow,

white or lavender which serve to attract the insects necessary to

pollination. But it is a treacherous plant and its rosette of broad

leaves at the base of the flower stalk is a deadly trap. Unlike the

leaves of Venus's fly-trap which are harmless except at the tips,

those of the butterwort are deadly throughout. Innocent appearing

as they are, they are coated with a sticky sweetish substance and

woe to the unwary insect that alights upon them, for once its feet

touch the surface it is held as securely as if it had stepped on

tanglefoot flypaper. And as it struggles to free itself the edges of

the leaves curl quickly upward and inward and lock the captive in

a living tomb where it is digested.

The Venus's fly-trap and sundew plants not only capture and

devour insects but know what is edible and what not. If a tiny

pebble or bit of twig or grass is placed on the leaf of one of the

plants the tentacles will close over it, just as a steel trap may be

sprung by a stick. But they will almost instantly open again and

eject the inedible object.

Still another of our insect-devouring plants is the little sundew.

These sundews are very abundant in moist situations but being

rather inconspicuous, with tiny



flowers, they rarely attract attention and are passed unnoticed by

most persons who never suspect what amazingly strange and

remarkable plants are being trodden underfoot.

Indeed, the sundews are among the most remarkable of all the

many carnivorous plants in the manner in which they capture

their prey. Brightly colored with red or pink in order to attract the

insects, each leaf appears as if covered with countless glistening

dew drops, but the shining globules which give the plant its name

are treacherous deadly snares, for each is a globule of sweetish

sticky material about the base of a tiny tentacle. There are two

hundred of these on each leaf and the moment an insect touches

them he sticks fast and instantly all the near-by tentacles bend

inward towards the center of the leaf and actually roll the captive

along as the leaf curls up like a closed fist. At the same time the

honeylike globules which have lured the insect to its destruction

become transformed to an acid digestive fluid which dissolves

and absorbs the nitrogenous substance of the plant's prey. This

requires about two days, when the leaf again unrolls, discards the

waste material of the digested insect and once more displays its

gleaming drops of nectar to lure other prey to the treacherous

plant. Moreover, these plants actually detect the presence of an

insect before it alights upon them. This was demonstrated by

securing a live fly over half an inch from a sundew which at once

began moving a leaf toward the captive insect and within two

hours reached and seized the fly in its tentacles. Although our

native sundews are small and capture only



tiny insects there is a species in southern Europe which preys

upon large flies and good-sized bees and other insects. In Spain

and Portugal the countryfolk use these plants as we use sticky

flypaper and hang the voracious sundews in their cottages.

But the most remarkable of all the insect-catching plants is the

little bladderwort, a water plant which lives in ponds and

sluggish streams. The roots of these plants are covered with little

bottle-shaped pouches or bladders, with the open ends provided

with filaments or tentacles. These serve the plant as lobster-pots

or fish-traps, for any water insect or small fish or baby tadpole

entering them is securely held within by the tentacles which close

over the opening until the prisoner has been digested. But when

the plant is ready to bloom, the strange bladderlike roots serve a

very different purpose. No longer do they capture living prey but

become filled with air, and acting as pontoons, float the plant and

buoy it up so that the flowers are well above the surface of the

water where insects can visit and pollinate them.

How fortunate it is for us that these treacherous carnivorous

plants do not grow to such size that they could capture large

animals and human beings. What a terrible fate it would be to

find one's self caught in the relentless grip of a giant tendril or

sticky leaf, be entombed within its folds and to be slowly digest

by the fearsome cannibal plant.

Many tales of such man-eating plants have been told by travelers

and by natives of tropical lands, but as far as known these stories

have no basis of truth, for although there are carnivorous plants

which catch and



devour small birds and other creatures no reliable traveler or

explorer has ever discovered a man-eating plant. Possibly such

awful plants may exist somewhere, but until their existence has

been proved we must regard them as figments of vivid

imaginations.



Chapter X

PLANTS THAT SAIL SEAS

PERHAPS you have sailed the seas in a steamship or have

watched the liners passing in or out of some port or have gazed in

awe and admiration at their towering steel sides, their

thousand-foot hulls and their mighty prows as they lie berthed at

the piers. If so, has it ever occurred to you that these wonderful

fabrics of steel and iron, with their gigantic engines and palatial

furnishings, would never have existed had it not been for plants?

That may sound ridiculous, for on a modern steamship what

purposes do plants serve other than to decorate the dining-room

and saloons with flowers or in the form of potted palms and

ferns, or to supply the almost negligible amount of woodwork

that enters into furnishings and finishing?

But we must remember that we would not have had steel ships if

we had not had wooden ships, which would have been

impossible without plants; and that wooden ships were developed

from small boats and that the original small boats were canoes.

And if we go a step further back in the story of the ship we will

find that before canoes were invented or evolved, men managed

to cross streams or lakes on logs and rafts or bundles of plant

stems.

It may seem a very far cry from a savage's canoe



or a crude raft to a de luxe super-liner, but the steamship is

merely a gigantic, vastly improved form of canoe with machinery

replacing human muscles for motive power, and with steel

substituted for the plant fibers of the other.

Even to-day there are far more craft made of plants than of metal

afloat, even if their total tonnage is far less, and it is safe to say

that they are of vital importance to more people than are steel or

iron ships. We could get along without our metal ships but there

are thousands, yes millions, of human beings who could not exist

without their craft made of plants, many of which are most

strange and interesting.

The manner in which men of many races have adapted the plants

of their lands to the making of boats, or rather, I should say, have

invented boats made possible by the plants available, is truly

remarkable.

We are all familiar with the birch-bark canoes of our North

American Indians, although these lovely graceful craft have

largely been supplanted by the canvas canoes patterned after

them.

It must have been a most ingenious and inventive Indian who

first saw the possibilities of the light, tough bark of the white

birch trees, and from this plant material constructed a canoe. The

chances are that a bit of floating birch bark gave him the idea, but

regardless of how it was invented the birch-bark canoe was one

of the most buoyant, graceful and seaworthy boats ever made by

man, and was built entirely of plants. Cedar and spruce supplied

ribs and thwarts; hemlock roots or moosewood withes served to

sew and lash the fabric together; the white birches supplied the



covering and pine, spruce and balsam gum, pitch, and resin were

used for filling seams and holes and rendered the craft watertight.

Although all familiar with boats know that the famous

whale-boats of New England were the staunchest, most

seaworthy and fastest of all small boats ever built by man, yet

very few know that these marvelous Yankee craft were modeled

after the Indians' canoes. And like the birch canoes, every portion

of the whaleboats, other than nails and a small amount of metal

gear and fittings, were supplied by plants of the New England

forests. Good white oak, pine and spruce, tamarack and cedar, all

were obtained from the woodlands of New England. For that

matter the whale-ships themselves were constructed largely of

native plants, even to the flax that went into the making of linen

for sails, the staves of the oil casks and the hickory of tool and

implement handles. And we must not forget that the cordage, the

ropes and hawsers, the rigging and the lines of the harpoons that

made sailing and whaling possible, were all made of plants---the

fibers of the Manilla hemp plant.

No other plants in all the world have ever traveled so far and

wide as those of New England which, transformed into

whale-boats, cruised the five oceans and sailed the seven seas.

There were other plants than those whose lives had been

sacrificed to the cause of the industry which sailed the seas in

Yankee whale-ships. Seldom did a whaling vessel set sail from a

New England port without potted plants from the captain's

garden in the cabin. And if the Missus went along, as she often

did, there would be all her favorite vines and



flowers, as well as some growing mint, pennyroyal and other

herbs to gladden her eyes and remind her of home during the

years she would be at sea. At many a strange port and far-distant

isle the ship would cast anchor to secure water, fresh fruit, and

vegetables, and to give the crew shore leave, and when the

Missus returned to the ship after her visit ashore she would bring

with her plants or "slips," seeds, or bulbs of the strange plants in

native gardens or growing wild. Even if the Skipper's wife was

not with him on the cruise, the Old Man, tough and hardened and

lacking in all sentiment as he might seem, would often, in fact

usually, gather seeds, cuttings, or bulbs, to carry back to his

better half for her garden or window-boxes in New Bedford,

Provinectown, Salem, Nantucket, New London, or some other

home port.

Many of our most popular cultivated plants were first introduced

by the whalemen returning from foreign lands, and not a few of

our old fashioned New England flowers found their way via

whale-ships to far-distant lands where the captains' wives

exchanged seeds or slips with women they met on their voyages.

Unfortunately the whalemen and their wives brought many an

alien plant to New England which might far better have been left

in its native land, for all too often these became most obnoxious

weeds. And in all probability many an insect pest was carried as

an unsuspected passenger on whale-ships, for the Yankee

whalemen knew nothing of the peril of introducing insect

stowaways and took no precautions to eradicate such as might be

upon the plants they brought home.

We all know that dug-out canoes were used and are



still used by many races of many lands and, of course, these are

entirely plant-made craft. So also are the proas and outrigger

boats of the natives of the Pacific and South Sea Islands and

Malaysia, the great war canoes of the Indians of our far northwest

and the aborigines of Australasia, the junks of the Chinese and in

fact practically all small craft other than the skin boats of the

Eskimos and the crude crafts of inflated hides used in a few

portions of the world.

Even the strange circular goofahs of Arabia, Palestine, and Persia

are made wholly of plants, for they are constructed of willow

withes woven like huge baskets, and are smeared with pitch and

gum to render them water-tight.

Wherever plants grow we find the people using them for making

craft of some sort, and very often they employ strange plants in

strange ways and produce very strange boats.

In the West Indian Islands, as well as elsewhere in the American

tropics, the cecropia tree is a very conspicuous feature of the

landscape. With its straight stout stem and broad palmate leaves

it always attracts attention, especially if there is a breeze when

the huge leaves, turned by the wind, show their silvery-white

under surfaces which gleam like burnished metal against the

surrounding greenery. In the West Indies they are known as

"hurricaine trees," the natives believing that the approach of a

hurricane is foretold by the manner in which the big leaves turn

and expose their undersides. The trunk of the tree is hollow and

jointed like giant bamboo, and while worthless as timber it serves

many useful purposes. Sections split in half are


Cecropia tree used as troughs and tanks. The largest trunks which may be two

feet in diameter at the base, make excellent casks or barrels,

while the smaller sections are used for conduits, pipes, and

various other purposes. Being hollow and filled with air the

trunks of these trees are as buoyant as pontoons, and a few lashed

together provide rafts capable of supporting very heavy loads. Many of the most valuable tropical woods, such as




greenheart, bullet-tree, letter-wood and others are heavier than

water and hence cannot be floated down the rivers.

But by lashing a few lengths of cecropia tree trunks to the heavy

logs they are buoyed up and float safely. On the large rivers of

Guiana one often sees rafts of these cecropia-tree trunks, each

supporting several immense squared hardwood timbers, and a

little thatched hut wherein the Indian lumberman and his family,

together with their dogs, poultry, and even pigs, live quite

happily as the cumbersome structure drifts slowly with the

current towards the distant seaport.

In the West Indian Islands the half-amphibious colored

youngsters find another use for the buoyant stems of the

"hurricane trees."

Cutting a few of the smaller trees, the boys lash them together

with lianas or "bush ropes," hew a crude paddle from the broad

base of a cocoanut palm leaf, and equipped with hooks and lines

go paddling out to sea on their flimsy "pipiris," as the makeshift

craft are called.

As the little rafts are barely large enough to support the boys'

weight they are constantly awash, but that matters nothing to the

black and brown-skinned owners who are not bothered with

clothing and whose naked bodies rubbed with cocoanut-oil shed

water like the back of the proverbial duck. At a short distance the

pipiris themselves are invisible, and it is a strange and surprising

sight to see dozens of boys apparently standing or sitting upon

the surface of the sea miles from the nearest shore.



Even in treeless lands the natives have learned to navigate the

lakes, rivers or even the ocean by means of plants. In many parts

of the world boats or canoes consisting of bundles of reeds

lashed together are used by the natives, but these reed-built boats

reach their highest development among the Indians dwelling

about the shores of Lake Titicaca high in the Andes of Peru and

Bolivia.

Not only are the canoes or "balsas" composed wholly of reeds

bound together by lashings of twisted reeds, but the sails with

which many are equipped are also made of reeds woven into a

form of matting.

Many of these reed boats are of large size and it is not unusual to

see a reed balsa fifty or sixty feet in length carrying a cargo of

live cattle or other freight, sailing slowly across the surface of the

highest navigable lake, propelled by its immense reed sails.

In times past such craft sailed the sea and the Incan races (who

were the only American Indians who learned the art of sailing

prior to the arrival of white men) ventured far out into the Pacific

and even voyaged to Central America in their reed vessels. When

on their way to conquer Peru, Pizarro and his men sighted a

distant sail, and thinking it a Spanish ship headed for it. Much to

their amazement they discovered that the vessel, navigating the

ocean out of sight of land was a reed balsa with reed sails

manned by Indians.

Speaking of balsas, we must not forget the balsa wood, which is

another plant that sails the spas. No one knows whether the wood

was named after the buoyant reed boat or if the boats were named

from the wood, but as the word means something that floats there



is no reason to suppose that either was named for the other. Of all

known woods that of the balsa tree is the lightest, but there are a

number of different trees varying considerably in the quality and

lightness of their wood all of which are marketed as balsa. Being

lighter than cork and being more water-resistant, balsa wood has

largely supplanted cork for use as life preservers, life rafts, and

similar purposes. Insect collectors have found it excellent for

lining cases of drawers in which to pin their specimens, builders

of model aeroplanes, coaches, and other objects find balsa wood

ideal, for it is soft, easily cut or carved, does not chip or split and

takes a good finish; quantities are also used in manufacturing

aeroplanes, in boat building and in other industries. To-day this

strange plant product is in great demand and has become a most

important, I might even say indispensable, wood, although prior

to World War I it was scarcely known outside its native lands and

was regarded as a curiosity of no real commercial value.

No one would guess from the appearance of the living tree that

balsa wood was as light and almost as soft as pith, for the trees

from which it is obtained are sturdy ponderous giants with huge

swollen gray trunks and are often one hundred feet in height. The

most striking peculiarity of the tree is the scarcity of branches.

These are few, short and are confined to the upper portion of the

tree so that it appears unfinished or as if broken off just above the

lower limbs.

In this respect it differs from the ceiba or silk-cotton trees, which

otherwise are so similar that one is often mistaken for the other.

But they may readily be distinguished, for the silk-cotton trees

have short heavy trunks with great buttresses or "hips" extending

from the base and with innumerable large, wide-spreading



spine-covered branches which, during certain seasons of the year,

are covered with the bursting seed capsules containing the soft

fluffy silk. As the seeds ripen and fall from their pods they float

through the air supported by their silken covering, and wafted by

the wind strew the earth and everything else in the vicinity with

the downy buff-brown substance which of recent years has

become of great commercial value under the name of "kapok."

Great quantities of this soft, resilient silken substance are used

for stuffing pillows and mattresses. As kapok is far more

waterproof than any other known vegetable fiber suitable for the

purpose, it is widely used in making boats' cushions which in

case of emergency may be used as life preservers, while many of

the life-vests and jackets aboard ships are also filled with the

buoyant material. This is still another plant that sails the seas.



Chapter XI

PLANTS THAT WE EAT

No matter what food we' may eat it may be traced back to some

form of plant. Salt is the only ingredient of our meals which does

not owe its existence to plants, but salt is not food in the strict

sense of the word. Moreover, even salt may be obtained from

plants, and many races secure what salt they require by

evaporating the water in which certain plants have been boiled.

Meats and fish, even lobsters and clams and the succulent oyster,

are the products of plants, for without plants herbivorous

creatures could not exist and there could be no carnivorous

animals unless there were plant eaters to provide them with flesh.

But by far the greater portion of our foods are plants, and aside

from a few races who depend entirely or principally upon a meat

diet, human beings are primarily herbivorous creatures, while the

races as well as individuals who are strictly vegetarians far

outnumber those who dine exclusively upon animal food. For

that matter I do not know of a single race or tribe that is wholly

carnivorous by choice. Some are far greater meat eaters than

others, but such people as the Eskimos and a few other savage

races who dwell in lands where there are no edible plants, are

carnivorous by necessity and not by choice.

Wherever there are plants suitable for human consumption we

will find that vegetable foods are the mainstay of the inhabitants

who, with very few exceptions, cultivate the more important

food-plants in order to insure an unfailing supply as well as to

improve the size and quality of the plants. Even our nomadic



Indian tribes of the western plains varied their diet of buffalo

meat with many wild plants and cultivated a number of

food-plants, while the South American Indians, dwelling in

tropical jungles which, according to popular fancy, teem with

game, could not exist without their gardens and fields and depend

almost wholly upon plants for their food supplies. And although

few persons realize the fact, we are indebted to the South

American Indians for over 80 per cent of our own food-plants.

It seems strange indeed that so-called "ignorant savages" should

have supplied the world with over 80 per cent of our plant foods,

that they should have cultivated more than two hundred species

of wild plants and should have bred and developed these until

they became our most important food plants, so totally different

from their original ancestors that even botanists cannot identify

the wild forms. It is even more remarkable that the Indians

should have made such a thorough job of their agriculture that

white men with all their boasted skill, knowledge, and

superiority, have never succeeded in reducing any important

American wild plant to cultivation. But the most amazing fact of

all is that many of the plants which the Indians cultivated and

improved, until they are now important food plants throughout

the entire world, should have been


1. Okra (about 1/3) 2. Mote corn (Peru) kernels showing comparative size of ordinary corn (about 1/6) 3. Andean corn that stands frost (about 1/6) 4. Wild potato of Central America (about 1/4) 5. Tatu or Andean potato that stands frost (about 1/1) 6. Sweet potato (about 1/4) 7. Wild tomato from the Andes (about 1/4) 8. Manioc or cassava (about 1/8) 9. Peanut plant (about 1/3) 10. Coontie briar (about 1/3) 11. Marsh-marigold (about 1/3) 12. Sego lily (about 1/3) 13. Jojoba (about 1/4) 14. Camas (about 1/3) 15-15A. Mesquite and mesquite beans (about 1/3)




developed from plants which are inedible or even poisonous in

their wild state.

I have already described the manioc (see Chapter V), and the

preparation of its deadly root to form a valuable and nutritious

food. Even stranger is the story of the potato, for the potato, as

well as the tomato, the sweet and chili peppers, the eggplant and

other food plants are members of the deadly nightshade family.

Few plants have a stranger, more unusual and more romantic

history than the lowly "spud" or "Irish" potato, and one of the

strangest and most interesting features of the potato's story is the

origin of its popular name.

Just where the potato was first cultivated by the Indians is not

definitely known, for when the Europeans



reached America it was grown and used by both Mexican and

South American tribes. But we do know that it had been

cultivated for thousands of years by, the Indians of Peru and

Bolivia, for we find potatoes in the most ancient graves and

tombs of the pre-Incan races, and many of their pottery jars and

vessels were modeled in the form of potatoes. Moreover, the

Peruvian Indians had produced and developed a great number of

varieties of the plant. Not only did they have practically all the

types of potatoes which our farmers cultivate to-day, but in

addition they raised a number of varieties of superior quality

which are not now familiar to us. Some of these thrive only in the

higher Andes and will withstand heavy frosts, others are edible

only when they have been frozen or frost-bitten, while others

have plants immune to the potato beetle. In fact the number of

odd and unusual varieties of potatoes one sees in a Peruvian

market is truly bewildering. There are potatoes of every form,

size and shape; potatoes with purple skins, potatoes with

golden-yellow flesh, potatoes streaked, spotted or blotched with

various colors, but all true potatoes or "papas" as they are called

by the Indians and all Spanish-speaking people.

Finding the tubers excellent and nutritious food, the Spaniards

carried them back to Spain, where they were cultivated and eaten

for forty years. Then in 1560, when Spain was establishing towns

and settlements in Florida, the tubers were carried back to

America by the colonists. Five years later, those famous old

sea-dogs, Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Hawkins, raided the

Florida coasts, and being in need of provisions they helped

themselves to the settlers' crops, including potatoes.



The strange tubers transported to England by these

pirate-privateers met with a cool reception and were used only as

cattle fodder for more than two hundred years. But the Irish took

to them and when Captain John Smith and his fellow colonists

set sail for Virginia, the "Irish" potatoes were among the various

Plant roots and seeds they carried with them. This was the

potatoes' fourth voyage across the Atlantic, and more than one

hundred years after they had been carried to Europe by the

Spaniards, they were back on American soil far from their

original home. But the British settlers in Virginia knew nothing

of the tubers' history or origin. To them they were Irish potatoes,

although they were neither Irish nor potatoes for the word

"potato" is a corruption of the word "batata" which was the

Arowak Indian name of the sweet potato.

Saddled with the erroneous name, the "Irish" potatoes became a

most important factor in life of the colonists of Virginia and New

England, although it was not until 1773 that the tubers became of

any importance in Europe. Yet so rapidly did they come into

favor, once their true value became known, that they saved the

people from famine during the Thirty-Years' War, and so

dependent upon potatoes did the Irish people become that when,

in 1845, the crop in Ireland failed, it started the exodus of Irish

emigrants to America. To-day this edible and nutritious

food-plant of the nightshade family is cultivated throughout the

world with an annual crop of more than six billion bushels and a

greater value than all the world's yearly production of silver and

gold combined. Strange as it may seem, nine-tenths of all

potatoes are raised in Europe,



although the plant is a native of America and was first cultivated

and used by the American Indians.

More than a hundred years before Drake and Hawkins carried the

stolen "spuds" from Florida to England, the sweet potato had

been introduced to Europe; for the "batatas," although first

cultivated by the Indians of Peru, had spread throughout tropical

and semi-tropical America and were cultivated by the natives of

the West Indies where Columbus found them. From Spain they

were carried to Italy, from there to Belgium, Austria, Germany,

and finally to Great Britain, where they at once became popular,

although so expensive that they were literally worth their weight

in gold and only the nobility and the very wealthy could enjoy

them.

Unlike the white potato which as I have said is a member of the

deadly nightshade family, the sweet potato or "camote" as the

Peruvian Indians call them, are members of the morning-glory

family. Moreover, the sweet potatoes are merely swollen or

enlarged roots, whereas the common potatoes are true tubers.

That the Indians should have developed a morning-glory into this

important food-plant is almost as remarkable as their discovery

that a member of a family of poisonous plants could be

developed to produce edible tubers.

If a person were asked to name the most valuable of all

root-crops, nine times out of ten the answer would be "potatoes."

But the world's most valuable root-crop is sweet potatoes. To be

sure, comparatively few sweet potatoes are raised in the United

States, the total crop amounting to less than one hundred

thousand bushels a year, but in many other lands they are the

most impor



tant of all food-plants. In South and Central America, the West

Indies and many other lands, sweet potatoes or "camotes," to use

the original Incan name, are the universal food of millions of

people and are as much a matter of course as white potatoes with

us. Vast quantities are raised and consumed in Africa. Still more

are cultivated in Asia. Countless people of Malaysia, the Pacific

Islands and the Philippines depend upon these plants for their

mainstay, for they will thrive and yield in abundance in localities

where the white potatoes cannot be grown successfully.

Moreover, they are far more easily propagated and cultivated

than the "spuds." They grow both from cuttings of either roots or

vines and need no planting, for merely by plowing under or

spading or hoeing in the vines after the crop has been gathered,

another crop will be assured. They have fewer insect enemies

than white potatoes, and an acre of land devoted to them will

yield a far greater quantity of actual food than will white

potatoes, for the roots of the vine are far more nourishing and

contain a much greater food value, pound for pound, or rather

acre for acre, than any other food-plant except maize. While only

the tuber of the white potato is used as food, although the seeds

or "balls" are edible despite the popular belief that these are

poisonous, both the roots and the foliage of the sweet potatoes

are eaten. In the Philippines sweet-potato shoots are regarded as

the finest of all "greens," and are far superior to spinach and

similar vegetables both in flavor and nutritious value.

Finally, the sweet potatoes have many more uses than do white

potatoes. Not only are the roots and "greens" eaten in their fresh

or natural state, but great



quantities are dried, countless tons of the roots are made into

flour, others are used for making alcohol and syrup, while Indian

tribes make beautiful and fast dyes from the juice of certain

varieties of these plants which, combined with lime juice and

other ingredients, produce a great number of colors and tints.

It is truly surprising that these most valuable of all root-foods

should be so little used in the United States. To be sure they are

extensively cultivated in our southern states where the damp, red

variety known to the Peruvian Indians as "camote apichu" is very

popular. In our country these thin-skinned, damp, very sweet

roots are called yams but they are very distinct from the true

yams which are the huge roots of a totally different family of

plants.

Perhaps one reason why most persons prefer white potatoes to

sweet potatoes is because the varieties cultivated in the United

States and sold in our markets are all more or less sweet. But

there are many more varieties of sweet potatoes than of white

potatoes, and among the vast array of yellow, brown, pink, red,

purple, orange, greenish, and white-skinned "camotes" one sees

in the markets of tropical America, there are many with dry

mealy flesh which is no sweeter than that of the least sweet of

white potatoes. Perhaps, some day, our people may discover that

cultivated morning-glory vines will produce more nutritious and

more abundant food than cultivated nightshades, and the sweet

potatoes may become our most important root-crop.

Next to the white potato, the tomato is the best known and most

important member of the nightshade family which provides us

with food.



Like so many other plants that we eat, the tomato originated in

Peru where it was cultivated and developed by the pre-Incan

races many centuries before the discovery of America. In the case

of the wild nightshade plants the fruits are the most poisonous

portions, and it is even more remarkable that the Indians could

have developed some of these and transformed them into edible

fruits than the fact that they developed the roots of others into

edible tubers.

Not only did the Peruvian races develop all of our present-day

varieties of the tomatoes and the peppers which are very closely

related-but in addition they had a number of varieties of tomatoes

which are unknown to us, although still cultivated in Peru. Our

tomato plants are tender, delicate things and very sensitive to

frosts, but in Peru there are tomatoes which withstand the

heaviest frosts and even freezing weather. In the Andean regions,

at altitudes of eight to ten thousand feet above the sea, the

commonest tomato is a small fruit about the size of a plum which

is borne on vines that clamber riotously over trees or buildings,

while the egg-shaped yellow tree-tomato thrives best from ten to

fourteen thousand feet above sea level and is unaffected by the

bitter cold and severe frosts of its Andean home nearly three

miles above the sea.

Long before the first Europeans reached America, the tomatoes,

and the capsicum and sweet peppers had spread far and wide over

tropical, and many portions of temperate, America and were very

popular with the Indian races, yet it was not until centuries later

that white people could be induced to eat tomatoes. For some

reason the "love apples" were regarded as



poisonous, and they were not recognized as edible until 1850.

To-day they are one of the most important of our agricultural

products and are cultivated in every portion of the world where

they will grow.

It was quite a different matter with the peppers. From the time of

the Spanish conquerors, both the sweet or "bull" peppers and the

hot or "chili" peppers have been popular and in great demand.

Perhaps the strangest thing about these peppers is the fact that the

name "chili" is the old Aztec name of the plants and is used

nowadays to designate the very hottest of peppers. But in Peru

the name is applied to the big sweet or mild peppers, for in the

Quechua Indian language "chile" or "chire" means cold or cool.

American peppers are the source of red or cayenne pepper and

paprika, but our white and black peppers are obtained from very

different plants, for these are the ground seeds of Oriental trees.

Oddly enough, both the fiery cayenne pepper and the mild

paprika are obtained from the same chili pepper-pods. The "hot"

portions of the peppers are the seeds and the membranes

surrounding them, and when these and the dried pulp or pith of

the fruits have been removed and the dried skin only is

pulverized it is known as paprika, whereas, if the entire fruits are

dried and ground, the product is cayenne or red pepper.

Another condiment which causes a great deal of confusion and is

a puzzle to many persons is our allspice. Most people, or at least

a great many people, think that allspice is a mixture of a number

of different spices, but in reality it is the ground seeds of a West

Indian tree known as the pimento. And here arises an



other chance for confusion, for the Spanish name for pepper is

Pimiento which is so similar to pimento that many persons think

the two words refer to the same plant.

Among the many food-plants which add zest and nutriment to

our diet are the various beans, the squashes and pumpkins, all of

which are American plants cultivated and developed by the

Indians everywhere although they, too, originated in Peru. But

perhaps the strangest plant which these ancient American

agriculturists developed and used was the peanut which is just as

popular with us as it was with the Indians ages before the arrival

of Columbus.

Although the peanut is a first cousin of the peas and beans, yet its

manner of growth is unlike that of any other plant, for instead of

bearing its edible seeds like ordinary plants the peanut buries its

pods beneath the surface of the ground. As soon as the yellow

pealike flowers fade and the seeds commence to develop, the

stems bend downward and burrow into the earth where the seeds

develop and ripen.

We seldom think of peanuts as one of the most important of

food-plants, yet in the United States alone the annual crop

amounts to nearly a billion pounds valued at more than twelve

million dollars, yet we raise only a very small portion of the

world's supply of peanuts. In China they are one of the most

important of crops, while vast quantities are raised in Europe, the

Pacific Islands, in Africa, and in the West Indies and in South

and Central America and Mexico, the total world's crop

amounting to more than three million tons of the little nuts.



No doubt it will surprise many to learn that pound for pound

peanuts are one of the most nutritious of all known foods. Even

the very best beef steak does not contain as many proteins as a

pound of peanuts, which also contains one-third as much fat as a

pound of butter, in addition to as many carbohydrates as a pound

of white potatoes. But peanuts are valuable for many purposes

other than as food for human beings. The oil is an excellent

substitute for olive oil and is also of great importance for the

manufacture of soap, oleomargarine, and other substances.

The "hay" made from the dried plants, as well as the pods or

"shells" and the reddish "skins" surrounding the kernels, are

among the most valuable fodder for live stock, while the waste

material remaining after the oil has been extracted from the

ground nuts is unexcelled as a fattener for cattle and hogs and is

one of the best of all crop or land fertilizers. Finally, like all

leguminous plants such as clover, alfalfa, peas and beans, the

peanut roots produce nitrogen which they give to the soil. Hence

barren or exhausted soil may be enriched and rendered

productive by planting and harvesting a crop of peanuts.

It may seem strange that we should eat the fruits, seeds, roots, or

tubers of poisonous plants. But how many of us realize what a

variety of foods are obtained from roses? Not from the rose

bushes of our flower gardens, it is true, but from closely related

members of the rose family. Plums, cherries, pears, peaches,

apricots, apples, nectarines, almonds, blackberries, raspberries,

and strawberries are all members of the rose family, as are also

the wild buckthorns and hawthorns which



bear edible even if not desirable fruits. There seems little

resemblance between a luscious peach and an almond, but if we

compare the peach stone with the shell of the almond we will

find them almost identical, while the kernel of the peach stone is

exactly like that of the almond aside from its flavor. And while a

big rosy apple is a very different fruit from a strawberry, yet we

will find the flowers very much the same. Here it is interesting to

note that blackberries and raspberries, as well as strawberries, are

all American plants and were unknown in other portions of the

world prior to the arrival of Europeans in the Western

Hemisphere.

Finally, among the strange plants that we eat there are the

grasses, which are the most important of all our food-plants.

Think of how badly off we would be were it not for the giant

grass called sugar-cane. And what would we do without the

grass we call wheat, the other grass we know as rye, the grass

from which we obtain our oats and the barley grass? Millions of

human beings depend almost entirely upon the swamp-loving

grass whose seeds are the cereal we know as rice, while millions

more would be faced with famine were it not for maize or Indian

corn which is still another grass. Perhaps of all these grasses

which provide human beings with their most important and

widely used foods the maize is the most interesting and the

strangest. In the first place "corn," as we call it, is of particular

interest to us, for it is 100 per cent American. But that is not its

only claim to be considered both interesting and strange.

Although the original wild ancestors of sugar-cane and wheat

are known we cannot identify the original



grasses which, through ages of cultivation, became transformed

to rice, barley, and rye. But all of these are very similar in

structure and manner of growth to common grasses. Among the

grasses of our fields and meadows, our waysides and our

woodlands there are species which are almost exact counterparts

of the various grains which provide us with food. Some have

"heads" with seeds like barley or rye, others have seeds that

droop like oats, while still others have the "heads" covered with

slender threadlike filaments resembling the "beard" of wheat. But

nowhere on earth, as far as known, is there a wild grass having its

stalks topped with flower tassels and with its seeds enclosed in

tightly wrapped husks growing from the stalk at the bases of the

leaves in the manner of our familiar Indian corn or maize.

Even stranger is the fact that maize is the only cereal plant which

is totally incapable of propagating itself. Wheat, barley, rye, oats,

millet and rice if not harvested will drop their seeds or grains and

these will sprout and grow. But the kernels of maize on their cobs

enclosed within the tight covering of husks cannot drop from the

parent stalk and produce more corn. Even if by chance the

kernels do drop to earth, if they are accidentally scattered by

birds, beasts, or human beings, and even if they sprout, the plants

cannot grow and spread without the aid of man. For so many

thousands of years has maize been cultivated by human beings

that it has become entirely dependent upon man for its existence.

Of all known plants it is the most thoroughly domesticated.

Never does it revert to a wild state like most cultivated plants.

Only where planted and cultivated by man does it exist. It has

become as helpless as a Pekinese if left to itself, and in its early



stages it is one of the tenderest, most delicate, and frail of all

plants.

No one knows with certainty where maize first originated, for

there are reasons to think it was first cultivated in Mexico and

there are as many if not more reasons for thinking maize

originated in Peru, the home of so many of our important

food-plants.

But regardless of where the plant was first developed from some

unknown wild grass we know that it had been cultivated by the

Indians of North, South and Central America for thousands of

years when the white men first arrived in the New World.

Moreover, the American races had developed all of the principal

forms or varieties of corn known to us, with many varieties

which have never become familiar to us in the North. In the most

ancient known tombs and graves of the pre Incan races we find

pottery vessels bearing perfect reproductions of ears of maize,

and accompanying the ancient mummies are dried and shriveled

ears of maize placed beside the bodies to provide the spirits with

food. Among these ancient specimens of maize are flint corn and

dent corn, sweet corn and popping corn, black and red corn,

yellow and white corn, as well as examples of the various kinds

of maize still cultivated in Peru but unknown to our farmers.

Among these is the mote' corn with each kernel an inch or more

in width. These are leached and cooked and are eaten singly, just

as we eat chestnuts or peanuts. At the very opposite extreme is

the pygmy of all maize with ears only two or three inches in

length.



But this tiny Andean corn has one great advantage, for its home

is about the shores of Lake Titicaca nearly three miles above the

sea, and is the only known variety of maize that will withstand

cold weather and frost. The Peruvian races knew the maize as

"sara," but they had a name for each variety of the plant. Thus the

big-kerneled corn was called "sara-mote'," black corn was

"kollo-sara," popping corn was "sara-cancha" corn used for

making meal was "sara-sancu," while sweet corn was called

"chocli." But the grain became first known to Europeans when

the Spaniards conquered Mexico and Yucatan where it was

known as "mahiz," the name which was adopted by the Dons and

was corrupted to maize by English-speaking people.

To-day this plant, first cultivated and developed in America,

has spread to every quarter of the globe where it can be grown. In

every land and on every island, other than those lying in the

frigid zones, there are fields of waving corn. From New Zealand

to the Siberian steppes, from the heart of Africa to the islands of

the

South Seas, everywhere throughout the world, Indian corn is

cultivated by civilized men and by savage tribes, and it has

become the third most valuable food-plant. Only wheat and rice

stand above it, while its commercial uses other than as food are

far greater than those of any other grain. Few persons realize the

almost inconceivable quantities of corn that are annually

harvested. In the United States alone the crop amounts to over

three billion bushels with a total value, greater than that of all our

yearly production of coal, iron, gold, and silver combined, and

often worth more than all the wheat, rye, barley, rice, beans,

potatoes, sweet potatoes,



and tobacco harvested in our country in a single year. But

perhaps the very strangest fact about this wonderful plant we eat

is that among all the races who cultivate and eat the grain, there

are only two (other than the Indians) who know it by its proper

name. In Africa and portions of India it is called "mealies"; the

natives of Egypt refer to it as "Syrian corn"; the French know it

under the name of "Spanish corn"; the Hungarians and the Dutch

call it "Turkish wheat", while the Turks know it as "Egyptian

corn." To us it is just "corn"

Only the Spanish-speaking people and the British call it maize,

and only the English, who of all races appreciate maize the least,

give credit to those who originated the grain by referring to it as

Indian corn.



Chapter XII

WONDER PLANTS THAT WE DRINK

It is rather remarkable that aside from water and milk, all our

beverages are made from plants. Moreover, all portions of plants

are used. We have drinks made from fruits, others from leaves,

others from flowers, others from seeds; some are made from nuts,

others from roots, and there are still others made from buds,

stems, sap, bark, or the entire plants.

Among the fruit beverages we have lemonade, orangeade,

limeade, cider, wines, and the popular pineapple juice, orange

juice, tomato juice, grape juice and others.* Roots, barks, and

saps supply us with most of our soft drinks such as root-beer,

birch-beer, ginger-ale, coca-cola, sarsaparilla. We have elder

flower and dandelion flower wines, as well as delicious wines

made of blackberries, cherries, barberries, elderberries, and other

berries. Buds and tender leaves supply our tea; our coffee and

cocoa are made from seeds. When it comes to "hard" drinks and

liquors there are the beers and ales made from seeds of hop vines

combined with malt from grains, with the microscopic yeast

plants added. Barley, rye, wheat, and maize seeds are the sources

of various kinds of whiskey, while the Irish use potatoes for the

same purpose. The berries of the

*A refreshing and delightful beverage may be made with crushed sumac berries and water sweetened to suit the taste.



juniper give the flavor to gin---or are supposed to, although I'm

afraid only a very small proportion of the liquor contains real

juniper. But even if the flavor is imparted by chemicals, the basis

of the liquor is alcohol which is distilled from the roots, fruits,

sap or other portions of plants. Brandy, also, is made from plants,

for it is made from grapes, while finally there is rum made from

the sap of the sugar-cane.

Man certainly has exhibited a great amount of ingenuity in

inventing drinkables, and there is scarcely any group or form of

plant life he has not employed in his desire to assuage his thirst,

add zest to his meals, refresh his weary body or befuddle his

brain. But it is rather a sad commentary on human nature that he

should have devoted so much effort to producing intoxicating

beverages. I doubt if there is a race anywhere, no matter how

primitive, that does not have its alcoholic drinks. For that matter,

about the first plant industry of human beings seems to be that of

making home-brew of some kind. Even when cast away upon a

desert island, shipwrecked mariners and others often manage to

concoct some sort of a toddy to cheer their spirits, stimulate their

energies and all too often make them disgracefully drunk. History

records that the first white men to dwell upon the Bermuda

Islands were shipwrecked sailors, and that even before they had

erected shelters for themselves or had found means of sustenance

other than shell-fish and birds' eggs, they had discovered how to

make a fiery intoxicating liquor from the palmettos on the

islands.

Perhaps Nature is as much to blame for this state of affairs as are

human beings for she has put temptation



in man's way and has provided a vast number of plants capable of

being more quickly and easily transformed to alcoholic than to

non-alcoholic drinks. Wherever there are cocoanut palms-and

that means practically every tropical land or coral reef-there is an

ever-ready source of fiery liquor. All that is necessary is to cut

open a nut and allow the liquid within it to ferment. If there are

no cocoanuts available, wild berries, fruits, pineapples, oranges,

even palm fruits may be crushed and the juice left to ferment. For

that matter, the sap of many trees will serve the same purpose,

and if the land is a barren desert waste there will be cactus plants

or agaves filled with watery sap which may be transformed to

liquor by the simple process of fermentation. And by creating the

minute plants which produce fermentation Mother Nature has

provided the most essential detail of all. Think what a

prohibitionists' paradise this earth would be if there were no

microscopic plants to produce fermentation. No doubt the

teetotalers feel that these minute plants are a curse, but without

them life would be impossible. The "curse" lies in mankind, not

in Nature, for it is the misuse, not the use of Nature's gifts that

has resulted in most of mankind's misery and shortcomings.

But irrespective of our ideas of temperance or intemperance the

stories of our plant beverages, either alcoholic or non-alcoholic,

are interesting and in many cases are truly strange and wonderful.

Very probably it was chance or accident that led to the discovery

of alcoholic drinks. Some primitive savage may have left a

portion of his cocoanut water or some fruit juice unconsumed,

and a little later, when he took



another drink, he found the liquid completely altered. The

slightly sweet or mildly acid flavor had been replaced by a sour,

acrid, or even fiery taste. Perhaps the fellow made a wry face and

spat it out, but the chances are that he swallowed enough to have

its effect upon his system, unaccustomed to alcohol, and he soon

became aware of entirely new sensations. Probably the savage

was terrified at first and had visions of devils or evil spirits

having entered his body by means of the funny-tasting liquid. But

presently his fears gave place to unusual gaiety and exuberance

of spirits, and as it dawned upon his rather dull brain that this was

the result of the beverage, he gulped down more and became so

filled with "Dutch courage" that his fellow tribesmen gazed upon

him with wonder and admiration. If he kept the secret of his

condition to himself he may have become a chief or a great

medicine man, but probably he decided it was too good to keep,

and became convivial and invited his friends to share his

home-brew.

Even if primitive man did discover intoxicating liquors

accidentally it could scarcely have been by accident that he

discovered how to prepare the seeds of a berry to provide him

with coffee or how to transform the beans in the pod of a tree to

cocoa and chocolate. Nobody knows when or how coffee was

first discovered, but compared to the process of making cocoa

and chocolate, that of making coffee is very simple. To prepare

coffee all that is necessary is to dry the beans, remove the

"parchment" or thin membrane that covers them, roast and grind

them.

But the preparation of the seeds of the cacao plant is a long and

complicated process. It is impossible even





1. Cacao flowers and pods (about 1/6) 2. Cacao pod open to show beans (about 1/6) 3. Yapon or Carolina tea (about 1/3) 4. Tea (about 1/3) 1. Broken orange pekoe 2. First gunpowder 3. Second gunpowder and orange pekoe 4. Pekoe and young Hyson 5. Hyson and Imperial 6. Souchong 5. Coffee (about 1/3) 6. Mate gourd and bombilla (about 1/4) 7. New Jersey tea (about 1/3) 8. Maguey plant (about 1/40) 9. Biscuit root (about 1/3) 10-10A. Indian bread-root plant and root

to hazard a guess as to when man first discovered how to prepare

cocoa and chocolate. For that matter we are not at all certain

whether cocoa and chocolate were first made in Mexico or in

Peru, for when the Spaniards first reached these countries they

found both the Aztecs, the Mayas, and the Incans using the

beverages just as their ancestors had been doing for unknown

centuries.

And here let me call attention to the confusion in regard to the

words "cocoa," "cacao" and "coco." We read of "cocoanuts," but

the nut of the palm-tree has no connection with the cocoa we

drink and some think it should be spelled "coco." Neither is the

term "cocoa" properly used when referring to the plant or to the

beans which provide us with cocoa and chocolate, for the word

"cocoa" is the name of the prepared beans only and these are the

seeds of the "cacao" tree.



In the Incan or Quechua language, both the seeds and the drink

made from them were known as "cacahua," while the Aztecs

knew the plant as "cacao" and called the beverages

"cacaoquahitl" and "chocolatl." These Indian words were far too

long and too difficult for the Spaniards, and were shortened and

corrupted to "cacao" and "chocolate." When the beverages

became known to the English people the Anglo-Saxons, as was

so often the case, transposed a letter and changed "cacao" to

"cocoa." Then to still further confuse the names. they added a

letter to the Spaniards' "coco," (their name for the well-known

palm-nut), and called it "cocoanut." Finally there is the "coca"

plant from which cocaine is derived, which made matters even

more complicated.

As wild cacao trees which might be ancestors of the cultivated

species are found only in South America, it seems probable that

the ancient Peruvians were the first to discover the process of

making cocoa and chocolate, while the similarity of the Incan

"cacahua" and the Aztec "cacao" would seem to indicate a

common origin and that the Mexicans learned the method of

using the plant from the Peruvians. Whatever the truth of the

matter may be, we know that both the people of Peru and the

people of Mexico used cocoa and chocolate in the most remote

times.

Cacao beans are found with other food-plants in the most ancient

of Peruvian graves and tombs, and pre Incan pottery vessels

dating back for thousands of years are modeled in the form of



cacao pods or are decorated with pictures of men or women

holding the pods in their hands. In Mexico there are equally posi

tive evidences that the use of the beans was familiar to the

Indians even before the Aztec Empire came into existence.

Moreover, in both South and Central America a great number of

varieties of the cacao trees had been developed, all quite distinct

from the wild species, which proves that the trees had been under

cultivation for an almost immeasurable length of time. Mainly

the recognized varieties of cacao trees differ only in the color or

size of their pods, the color of their leaves and the quality of their

beans. All are easily recognized and all are most striking and

peculiar. Unlike the great majority of plants, the flower-buds

sprout directly from the bark of the trunk and branches, and as

the pods mature the tree presents a very curious appearance

resembling, as one tourist expressed it, "a beech tree with

summer squashes nailed to the trunk."

Even though the cacao tree is very different from a beech and is a

very beautiful tree with large deep-green or copper-crimson

leaves, the fruits or pods do resemble squashes, especially when

they are yellow or green. But there are varieties with scarlet pods,

crimson pods, and deep, almost purple pods. The pods

themselves are not edible, however, and are filled with a rather

sweet, mucilaginous whitish substance or "flesh" containing

many large seeds which are quite soft and pinkish-brown in color

and somewhat similar in general appearance to raw peanuts.

When the pods are fully ripe they are picked and are heaped in

piles beneath the trees where workers armed with machetes

quickly split the pods in half and empty the slippery mass

containing the seeds into boxes or





trays. The next step is the fermentation or "sweating" process

which is the real secret of the preparation of the cacao beans, and

by which their natural raw-potato flavor is changed to that of

cocoa. It is a rather tricky process requiring practice and

judgment as well as great care, for if the seeds or beans are

fermented too much they are ruined.

There are a number of ways employed in "sweating" cacao.

Sometimes the contents of the pods are placed in vats, other

planters prefer the use of gratings, while many of the smaller

growers simply cover the mass of pulp and seeds with leaves,

burlap sacks, or other material.

No matter what method is followed the result is much the same,

the pulp souring and fermenting and becoming almost liquid, in

which state it flows off leaving the seeds exposed. The next step

in the process is one in which planters also disagree, many

insisting that the beans are improved by washing before being

dried, while others feel equally certain that they are better if dried

without being washed. But in either case it is highly important

that the beans should be dried very evenly and thoroughly. To

accomplish this the beans are spread on huge trays on the large

estates, or on ox hides in the case of growers who have only a

few trees, and are constantly raked or moved about in the

sunshine. As the beans mildew and spoil if wet by rain, the large

estates have the drying-trays mounted on wheels running on

tracks leading into huge sheds so that the beans may be quickly

placed under cover in case of a shower or at night. Other growers

employ artificially heated air for drying their beans, while many

thousands



of tons of cacao beans are dried on raw hides or small trays or

even on sheets of corrugated iron placed on the ground, or in the

streets of villages and towns. As dogs, poultry, sheep, goats, and

even cattle wander about freely and go where they please, they

frequently walk over the drying beans. Finally the beans are

polished and are usually colored with red clay or ochre mixed

with water and sprinkled on the dried beans while they are being

polished. Unlike the question of fermentation and washing

wherein experts disagree, all cacao growers seem to agree that

the very best method of polishing the beans is to employ

barefooted Hindus, Indians, or Negroes to shuffle the beans about

with their feet. But we need have no hesitation about partaking of

cocoa or chocolate because of this or because live stock wander

over drying cacao beans, for in the subsequent manufacture of

cocoa and chocolate the superficial skin or shell of the beans is

removed.

When the dried and polished cacao beans reach the factories they

must go through an even longer and more intricate process before

they are ready for human consumption. First of all they are

roasted. Then they are dehulled and the germs or "chits" are

removed and the beans cracked into fragments by special

machinery. They are then sifted, screened, and blended. In fact

the blending of various grades and flavors of beans from different

localities is a most important part of the process, for the quality

and flavor of the finished products depend upon this. When the

blending is completed the beans are passed through the grinders

and are transformed into a creamlike paste or "liquor" which is

beaten and churned for hours until it becomes "cocoa



cream." The warm cream is poured into forms or molds where it

solidifies and becomes the chocolate of commerce. Cocoa is

prepared by extracting the oil or "cocoa butter" and pulverizing

the dry remainder.

In addition to cocoa and chocolate there is the product known to

the trade as "broma." This is merely the husks or skins of the

beans pulverized and sweetened and therefore contains any dirt

or foreign matter that might have adhered to the beans while

being dried and polished. At one time large quantities of broma

as well as the whole "cocoa shells" were sold because of their

cheapness, but nowadays cocoa and chocolate are so abundant

and so low in price that there is practically no sale for the inferior

shells, which are used mainly in the manufacture of cattle fodder.

When we consider what a long and involved and complicated

process is required to transform the seeds of the cacao tree into

nourishing food and drink, it seems beyond the bounds of reason

to assume that the Indians hit upon it by chance. But if not how

on earth did they learn the process? To be sure they did not

produce the same high quality of chocolate and cocoa as result

from modern manufacturing methods and specially-designed

machinery. But the flavor of the Indians' crudely ground and

'prepared chocolate is fully equal to and often superior to that of

our highest grade product.

Of course, we all know that our tea consists of the leaves or buds

of a plant, but how many of us know that the tea plant belongs to

the same family as the sweetscented, waxen-flowered camelia?

How many of us know that the various kinds of tea, such as

Orange Pekoe, Hyson,



Colors, Souchong, and others are all leaves from the same plant,

the grade or name depending upon the portion of the plant or the

size of the leaves used? How many of us know that black tea and

green tea differ only in the method of preparation? And how

many of our tea drinkers realize that tea leaves must undergo a

long process almost as involved as that of chocolate, before they

are ready to use?

When we speak of "Orange Pekoe" we refer to tea made from the

tenderest buds at the tips of the stalks. When we ask for "Young

Hyson" we wish tea made from medium-sized leaves. If some

tradesman offers a bargain in tea and vows it is just as good as

the best Orange Pekoe, and we notice it is marked "Souchong," it

is no bargain, for Souchong means that the largest and poorest

leaves are contained in the package. On the other hand

"Gunpowder" tea is made from very young and tender leaves

near the top of the plant-stalk and is next to Orange Pekoe in

quality.

Oolong, green tea, and black tea differ in a very different manner.

In preparing leaves for black tea they are spread on trays for

several hours or until they wilt and become soft and velvety.

Then they are handled and rolled on stone tables to break open

the leaf cells and release the oils or juices, after which they are

roasted and are finally "fired" or dried by artificial heat or hot air

at a temperature of about 210' F. Green tea is not wilted, roasted

or rolled before being dried, but is steamed or "fired" as soon as

gathered, thus destroying the ferments, while Oolong is tea from

Formosa which is very slightly fermented before "firing"

Although practically all real tea is imported from





Japan, China, India, or Ceylon, yet there are a number of native

American plants whose leaves may be used for making tea.

Perhaps the best known of these is the woodland shrub known as

New Jersey tea. The leaves of this common plant when carefully

dried make an excellent beverage and served our ancestors as a

substitute for Oriental teas during the Revolutionary War.

Sassafras leaves were widely used for making a beverage in the

past, the "sassafras tea" being considered a certain remedy for

many forms of sickness.

In our more southerly states there is a member of the holly family

which is known as yaupon or Carolina tea which is far superior to

the New Jersey tea plant as a source of tea. The tender shoots and

leaves of the yaupon when "steeped" produce a very healthful

and refreshing beverage which was very popular with the

Cherokee Indians to whom it was known as "black drink."

But the only tea which competes with that of the Orient in

popularity and widespread use is the Paraguay Tea or "mate" of

South America.

Mate', however, is not the name of the plant, which is a species of

ilex or holly, and in the Indian language means a small gourd, the

real name of the plant being Yerba maté or gourd plant. This

name was not bestowed upon the plant because it bears gourds,

but on account of the way in which the dried leaves and twigs are

used. In the lands where the beverage is popular and is as

universally used as is tea, cocoa, or coffee in our country, no

native would ever dream of brewing mate' in a pot. To obtain the

full flavor of the drink it must he prepared in a certain way, the

leaves and tender



twigs being steeped in a specially designed vessel from which it

is sipped by means of a slender tube with a spoon-shaped end

pierced with many tiny holes to form a strainer. This device is

known as a "bombilla" or "little pump," while the rounded or

egg-shaped container is the mate' or gourd. Originally these were

made of real gourds, and many of the poorer people still use

them; but the majority of people, and all who can afford to do so,

use imitation gourds made of glass, metal, or porcelain which are

often highly decorated or are of solid silver or gold. In preparing

the beverage, a few of the ground dried leaves are placed in the

gourd into which boiling water is poured until it is about two

thirds full. For a few minutes the contents are stirred gently with

the bombilla, until the drinker deems his tea just right, when he

sucks it through the "little pump." One of the principal reasons

why mate' has not become, popular in the United States is

because our people have not learned how to prepare and use it.

But there are other and greater reasons. In the first place only the

poorer grades of mate have been obtainable here, and there is as

much, or for that matter more, difference between poor and good

mate' than between Souchong and Orange Pekoe tea or between

the cheap and the high grade coffees. Unlike true tea, the mate'

tea is made from the leaves, twigs and even the smaller branches

of the plant, while aside from being partially dried in the

sunshine and "cured" over wood fires no other preparatory

process is needed, other than to chop or grind the dried product

into a coarse powder. Inferior or cheap grades of mate are mainly

made from the branches and twigs and contain a great deal of

fine



dust, whereas the really superior grades consist wholly of the

buds and leaves and are free from all small particles which bother

the drinker by passing through the openings in his bombilla.

The other reason why we have never become mate' conscious is

because wholly misleading and exaggerated advertisements of

the beverage have been widely circulated, and because equally

misleading and wholly unfounded statements declaring that mate'

is a drug and injurious have been broadcast in the press, by radio,

and otherwise. There is no more truth in such statements than in

the advertisements which declare that mate' will insure long life,

perfect health and will cure almost every ailment from dandruff

to heart disease. Just how or where the idea that mate' is a drug or

is injurious originated, is a mystery. Perhaps well-meaning but

ignorant reformers and self-appointed guardians of public

welfare, confused mate' and marijuana owing to the fact that both

words begin with "m" and both are used by Latin Americans. But

I strongly suspect that the outcry against the use of mate' was

inspired by the liquor interests who realized that users of

Paraguay tea are seldom heavy drinkers of alcoholic beverages,

and foresaw losses to their own trade if mate' became as popular

as it deserves to be.

Although it is no cure-all and has no more effect upon falling

hair, the postponement of old age or the acquisition of strength

than does tea, coffee, or cocoa, it is fully as refreshing and

stimulating as these beverages, and is no more harmful. In fact it

contains far less caffein than any one of the three most popular

drinks, and it is not nearly so habit-forming a drink as



ordinary tea or coffee. More than thirty million people in South

America drink mate' as regularly and as often as we drink coffee

or tea. In Europe it has become a very popular and widely used

beverage, and in many districts has almost entirely supplanted all

other drinks. Surely over thirty-five million human beings can't

have gone to the damnation bow-wows by drinking this "tea of

the Gauchos," and it is a great pity that such a harmless,

refreshing and truly desirable "tea" has not been popularized in

our own land. Perhaps, once we learn how to prepare it properly,

and when the higher grades of the mate' tea are imported, we may

see thousands of our people sipping the beverage through silver

bombillas instead of standing by a bar and tossing raw whiskey

down their throats. Mate' may not be the means of reforming

drunkards, it may not be a "cure" for intemperance, but the fact

remains that where the plant is most widely used the

consumption of alcoholic liquors is almost negligible.

In various lands the people have plant beverages that are almost

or quite unknown to us, but are as popular locally as are tea,

coffee, or cocoa in our country or as mate' in Brazil, the

Argentine, and Paraguay.

In Africa, millions of people consider beverages made from the

cola nut the finest of all, while in Arabia the native khat is the

favorite. In our southwest the Indians prize the sweet syrupy

juice of the giant tree cactus or "saguaro" (see Chapter VI) when

freshly drawn from the plant or after being fermented to form a

rich heady wine. In rainless desert districts the cacti are most

important and valuable plants, for all contain a large amount of

watery sap which in the case of many species


is drinkable and palatable. Some of the stout-stemmed barrel

varieties are real desert drinking fountains, for by cutting a slice

from the top of the plant and digging out some of the pithy

interior to form a hollow the

Barrel cactus (1/16) thirsty traveler may secure a draught of cool clear liquid which

quickly fills the cavity.

One of the most remarkable of plants which provide man with

beverages is the guarana' or devil-doer of the Amazon district in

South America. In its natural wild state the guarana is a liana or

climbing vine, but when cultivated it becomes a small bushy tree.

The seeds of this plant contain nearly four times as much

caffeine as coffee or from 4 to 5 per cent. These seeds are ground




and pressed into cylindrical cakes four or five inches in length

and about an inch in diameter. By slicing off a few shavings of

one of these "sticks" and dissolving them in boiling water, a most

refreshing and stimulating beverage is prepared. A

half-teaspoonful of guarana in a cup of water is equal to several

cups of the strongest black coffee, and its effect upon weary

brains and muscles is almost magical. No matter how utterly

worn out and fatigued a person may be, a drink of guarana makes

him a "new man," as fresh, strong, and active as ever. Moreover,

as far as known, this appropriately named "devil-doer" has no ill

effects upon one's system. There is no depression or lassitude

after the effects of the guarana have passed off, its use does not

become a habit, and one may drink the beverage before going to

bed and sleep soundly to awaken in the morning as fresh as the

proverbial daisy.

Another popular beverage of many natives of Mexico, Central,

and South America is known as "chicha." This, however, is

merely a general name, for there are many kinds of chicha such

as corn chicha, pineapple chicha, sweet potato chicha and chicha

made of various fruits and other plants, and there are as many

methods of preparing the drink as there are plants used in making

it.

In Costa Rica, pineapple chicha is the favorite beverage, while in

Peru chichas prepared from special varieties of maize are the

most popular. Broadly speaking chicha is similar to slightly hard

cider, and like cider it becomes harder the longer it is kept and

the greater the fermentation. But unlike the well-known juice of

apples, chicha soon sours and spoils. When fresh and



properly prepared it is a most refreshing beverage, regardless of

the plant used in making it, although few Northerners like the

flavor of the corn chicha until they become accustomed to it, for

like olives and many other edibles it is an acquired taste which

many persons never acquire.

Another plant beverage somewhat similar to chicha, is the cassiri

of the Caribs and other jungle Indians of South America. This is

made from the juice of a certain variety of red sweet potato and is

an excellent agreeable drink. As much cannot be said of another

beverage very popular with these Indians, paiwarrie, prepared

from the cassava or manioc meal, or the cassava cakes in the

manner described in Chapter V. The after effects of paiwarrie are

very bad, overindulgence in paiwarrie being followed by extreme

physical weakness and exhaustion, a severe cough and not

infrequently a wasting illness and even death. Moreover, it is not

unusual for the Indians to use their entire cassava meal supply for

making paiwarrie, leaving them without food when the orgy is

over, for in their exhausted condition the men are incapable of

hunting or fishing.

Paiwarrie is one plant drink that most fortunately has never

become popular beyond the boundaries of the tropical jungles,

for it does not possess a single redeeming feature.

It is quite a different matter with the national beverage of Mexico

known as "pulque" (pronounced poolkay), made from the sap of

the agave or maguey plant which is one of the so-called "century

plants." When the maguey is fully matured it contains a quantity

of



starchy material and sugar stored in the fleshy stiff leaves. At this

time just when the plant is about to produce its flower-bud, the

maguey is tapped by having a deep cavity scooped from the heart

of the plant. Oozing from the surrounding fleshy portions of the

leaves, the sweet sap called "miel" accumulates in the hollow and

is gathered twice each day by a man who sucks the liquid into a

long tubular gourd and empties the contents into a skin bag or

cont ainer strapped to his back. When slightly fermented, the

"miel" or "honey" loses its almost cloying sweetness and acquires

a slightly sour, slightly acid flavor, very similar to good apple

cider. The pulque thus prepared is a most refreshing and de-

lightful beverage and is highly nutritious. Unfortunately,

however, the Mexicans are not satisfied with such a desirable and

innocuous drink. Like the majority of human beings, they

demand something with a "kick" in

it and obtain a "kick" worth while by allowing the pulque to

ferment until "ripe" and then distilling it, the resultant highly

alcoholic liquor being the fiery mescal. Yet even this is not so

potent a liquor as other native Mexican beverages.

I have stated that with the exception of water and milk all

beverages are made from plants, but if we are to believe the

natives of Campeche there is still a third exception.

On one occasion while I was in Campeche, the Alcalde of the

town invited me to have a drink with him and some of his

friends. "Senor Alcalde," I inquired as he filled the glasses, "of

what is this drink made?"

The Alcalde grinned. "Of a truth, amigo mio," he



replied, "it is compounded of sulphuric acid and gunpowder."

And when I tasted the innocent-appearing, colorless, sparkling

liquor I was convinced that he had told the truth.



Chapter XIII

MAGIC PLANTS

DID you ever notice how frequently some twig, root, tree,

flower, or seed-pod resembles some other object? The little wild

flower known as Dutchman's breeches has flowers which are

miniature replicas of the baggy trousers so typical of the national

costume of the Hollanders. The broad-leafed aristolochia vine

which shades so many of our porches is most appropriately called

Dutchman's pipe for its flowers are shaped exactly like the long,

crooked-stemmed pipes popular with the Dutchmen, while the

elephant flower has blossoms strikingly similar to the heads of

pachyderms. Another plant, found in South Africa, has a

root-stock so stout and massive with a bark so wrinkled and

cracked that it instantly reminds one of an elephant's foot, which

is one of its popular names. It is also known as the tortoise plant,

for at times it varies its mode of growth and forms rounded or

dome-shaped masses which at a very short distance might easily

be mistaken for land-turtle shells. Another plant which is just as

well named is the elephant's ear. There are many species of

elephant's ear plants, among them the taro of the Pacific Islands

and the eddoes and yautias with edible roots or tubers, of the

West Indies, some species of which are cultivated in our

greenhouses and gardens because of the big, ornamental leaves.

Far more remarkable are the orchids,





Magic plants 1. Elephant flowers (about 1/3) 2. Mistletoe (about 1/3) 3. Mandrake (about 1/3) 4. Witch-hazel (about 1/3) 5. Beenas (caladiums) (about 1/3) 6. Dutchman's breeches (about 1/3) 7. Moccasin flower (about 1/3) 8. Dutchman's pipe vine (about 1/3) 9. Root fetish of South American Indians (about 1/12) 10. A root in the form of a bird (about 1/4) 11. Root shaped like a seal (about 1/4) many of which are famous for the strange forms of their flowers.

The common lady's slippers or moccasin flowers are true orchids

with blossoms strikingly like moccasins or slippers in form,

although perhaps they are even more like wooden shoes. Many

orchids have flowers which appear like gay-colored butterflies,

others resemble bees, hornets, or grasshoppers, while others are

so similar in form and colors to night-flying moths that it is very

difficult to distinguish the insect from the flowers.

Very frequently one comes upon freak plants with branches or

roots which are twisted, deformed, or inter-grown to produce

weird and fantastic shapes resembling various animals or

monsters. Recently it has become quite a fad to collect these, and

some of the specimens secured are truly amazing.

A friend who lives in Maine and is fond of wandering in the

woods and has an eye for anything strange or unusual, devotes

much of his time to searching the borders of ponds and lakes for

gnarled and weathered cedar


and spruce roots which bear a resemblance to beasts. birds, or

other creatures. He has become so skilled in this hobby that he

will see possibilities in an old stump or root that the average

person would pass by unnoticed.

Butterfly orchid

1

By cutting away superfluous bits and with a few deft touches of

paint and artificial eyes he transforms the roots into really

remarkable figures of seals, lions, moose, and various other

beasts. Until one has searched for such queer plant-forms one

does not realize how numerous they are, although very often one

may chance upon them. A short time ago while walking through

a © Turner Williams Group Pty Ltd 2005 Page 193



patch of woodland I picked up a bit of gnarled wood which had

unmistakably the semblance of a bird and needed only eyes and

feet to transform it into a perfect robin.

Of course, we know that such things are nothing more than freak

growths, but primitive and superstitious human beings regard

them in a very different way. To them the queerly shaped roots,

gnarled trunks, flowers and seeds are supernatural or magic, and

they prize or fear them accordingly. From time immemorial the

mandrake has been credited with magic powers by many races,

merely because the roots of this plant bear a resemblance to the

body and limbs of a human being. Among our American Indians,

almost any unusually shaped root or plant was often regarded as

"medicine" and was supposed to possess curative or magic

powers.

But there are many plants which are considered magic or

medicine or are used as charms or fetishes, although they are

quite normal in their mode of growth and other respects. The

Sioux and other plains Indians consider our common sweet-flag

as "good medicine" and value it very highly. In this case there is

good reason for prizing the root, for it does possess medicinal

properties. But when the word medicine is used in connection

with Indian practices and beliefs it does not mean a remedy, but

something that possesses weird, mysterious, or magic qualities,

and bits of the sweet-flag root strung on thongs to form a

necklace or placed in a "medicine bundle" are regarded as most

potent charms. Among the South American tribes a number of

peculiarly shaped flowers and seeds are used as love charms. One

of these is the pale purple flower of a



climbing vine, which, when dried and powdered is supposed to

possess amazing powers. The Indians believe that if the

pulverized blossoms are scattered in a man's hammock or are

thrown upon his person he will fall in love with and marry the

woman who used the charm, or will go crazy. And it always

works, for the man is also a firm believer in the powers of the

charm and feels certain that he will go mad unless he marries the

girl. These Indians of South America are particularly addicted to

plant charms and magic plants, which are called beenas. Just why

certain plants should be supposed to be magic while others are

not is a mystery, but every Indian recognizes the beena plants

instantly. Moreover, there are beenas for nearly every purpose,

while in addition, every man and woman has his or her personal

beena plant which will bring dire misfortune upon any one else

who employs it. Usually these magic or beena plants are callalike

caladiums. Many varieties of these are cultivated in our

greenhouses, or are used as potted plants in our homes, because

of their beautifully colored and marked leaves which are spotted,

mottled, splashed, veined, or streaked with vivid red, white,

yellow, or purple.

To the Indians each of the colors and each form of marking

indicates a different kind of charm. Mainly they are used as

hunting, fishing, or travel charms, the Indians believing that the

use of the proper beena will insure success in his undertaking. If

he is about to start on a hunt for deer the Indian will select a leaf

with red spots. If he wishes to secure tapir he chooses a leaf of

deep liver and green color. If his quarry is the jaguar he uses a

leaf spotted with yellow and with deep red



veins and so on. To the Indian's way of thinking no charm is

worth having unless it causes pain, so he cuts or scratches his

arm and rubs the acrid juice of the leaf into the wound. Of course,

the plant has no potency or power to bring him luck, yet the use

of the beena usually results in his being successful. Having used

it he feels self-confident and uses every effort to secure the game,

whereas without the magic plant to aid him he feels certain of

failure and makes no real wholehearted attempt to succeed in his

quest. Hence, indirectly, the leaf does serve as a charm.

Probably the peculiarly marked leaves of these plants first led to

the Indians' belief in their magic properties, yet there are many

other plants with even more curious and unusual leaves which are

never considered beenas, while others, among them the bulbs of

certain lilies, are highly valued as charms. If fantastic forms and

colors caused plants to be regarded as magic or medicine plants,

then surely the orchids would be among the most magic of all

growths. Yet I do not recall any tribe who considers any orchid in

this light. The ancient Britons regarded the mistletoe as a magic

plant, and to some extent it is still regarded as a charm or fetish,

or at least mystic, as witness our custom of hanging a sprig over a

doorway or on a chandelier at Christmas time. To be sure its

charm when thus employed lies largely in the privilege it confers

upon the lucky chap who catches a pretty girl beneath the sprig.

It would be difficult indeed to find a man who did not thoroughly

believe that mistletoe is "good medicine" and a worth-while

"beena" under such conditions.

Very likely the Britons looked upon mistletoe as a



magic plant because of its parasitic growth, especially when

found upon oak-trees where it is rarely seen, and its cannibalistic

nature. Yet there are countless parasitic plants which no one

considers either magic or sacred.

Neither does there appear to be any reasonable explanation of the

magic properties attributed to the alder by "dowsers" or users of

divining rods. But in this respect alder is not by any means the

only plant which is supposed to indicate the presence of water,

treasures, or precious metals beneath the surface of the earth.

Some dowsers swear by hazel, others by apple twigs; some insist

that hawthorn or gooseberry forks are the most magic of all

plants when it comes to finding water, while I have met one or

two who admit that the "magic" is all in the user rather than the

plant and that a divining rod made of wire works just as well.

Another common plant which for untold centuries has been

considered magic or at least a charm, is the witch-hazel of Europe

which is a species of elm and should not be confused with the

American witch-hazel or hamameliis. It would not be surprising

if the American witch-hazel was regarded with superstitious awe

by the Indians, for it blooms in the autumn when by all rules and

regulations plants should be ripening their seeds, and it possesses

great medicinal properties as every one knows.

Although we seldom think of it in that light, yet our interest in

finding four-leafed clovers is merely a leftover from our

ancestors' belief in the magic properties of these freak leaves. For

that matter a great many otherwise sensible and intelligent people

still have faith



in four-leafed clovers bringing good fortune to the finders. And

when children pluck the petals from a daisy and repeat the words,

"He loves me, he loves me not," they are unconsciously

perpetuating their ancestors' practice of divination by means of

magic plants. Of course, even the children of to-day have no real

faith in the results of their mutilation of the flowers, but their

ancestors did, and not so very long ago at that. Had any one,

child or adult, been caught pulling petals from a daisy while

repeating the well-known words during the early days of New

England, he or she would have been arrested and cast into prison

on a charge of witchcraft. From time immemorial, magic or

mystic plants have been a very essential part of necromancy.

Every witch had her "brew" compounded of magic plants, herbs,

and other ingredients, and no "spell" could be cast, no fortune

told, no ailment cured, no "devils" exorcised or no love philter

compounded without resorting to magic plants of some sort.

This former use of plants in witchcraft is perpetuated in the

common names of many species. Aside from the witch-hazel and

witch-elm and the witch-alder we have the witches'-besom, the

distorted broomlike branches of evergreen trees resulting from a

fungus disease the Witch-balls or tumbleweeds, the witch-broom,

which the witches were supposed to employ in making their

flying

brooms to carry them through the air; the witch-grass,the

witch-apples or curiously shaped galls on cedar and juniper trees,

and others.

It is a poor rule that does not work both ways, and our

witch-ridden and witch-fearing ancestors were as firm believers

in the efficacy of certain magic plants to



circumvent witches as in the evil powers of the witches' brews. In

Scotland a sprig of white heather worn on one's person or placed

over the doorway of a cottage was considered a certain means of

safeguarding one's self or one's home from the perils of

witchcraft.

The sweet marjoram, sweet cicely, trefoil, and other common

plants were used in the same manner and for the same purpose.

The well-known custom of placing an evergreen tree or bough on

the roof of a newly erected barn or other building had its origin

as a charm against witches or evil spirits. Witches were popularly

supposed to work "spells" which caused cows to "go dry" and the

magic bough, placed on the building, was believed to prevent

such a catastrophe to the cows within.

The horse-chestnut was still another magic plant credited with

the power to keep witches and evil spirits at a respectful distance,

and the custom of carrying a horse-chestnut for "good luck" or

for its supposed curative properties is merely a survival of the

belief in the nuts' magical powers.

Many persons still have implicit faith in the efficacy of a white

potato as a cure for rheumatism, and always carry a spud in their

pockets or worn like a scapular. Seldom indeed do they realize

that by so doing they are unconsciously using a magic plant as a

safeguard from evil spirits or witchcraft. Yet such is the case, for

the custom dates back to the time when all ills that flesh is heir to

were attributed to "devils" taking possession of the afflicted

person or to "spells" of witches, and the potato was deemed a

most potent charm to drive out the devils and to render the spells

impotent. Probably



many worthy and highly intelligent people will rise up in arms

and declare that potatoes will cure rheumatism. I have no doubt

that in a great many instances the "Irish cobbler," for this is

considered the most reliable and efficacious variety of the tubers,

does relieve the sufferer who carries it. Faith will cure many ills,

and if one has sufficient faith in the curative properties of a

potato the "charm" will work. But the same results would follow

if the afflicted person carried a turnip, a carrot, or an onion, and

had the same amount of faith in either. For that matter an onion,

or better still a bit of garlic, might have even greater magic

powers than a potato, for there are many persons who swear by

asafetida and carry a bit of the fetid gum in a pocket or in a little

bag suspended about the neck. Certainly it would not be at all

surprising if this magic plant did keep witches and devils at a

distance.

Very probably, in many cases the magic properties attributed to

certain plants resulted from the ancient widespread belief that

various trees and plants were the abodes of spirits or supernatural

beings. Dryads, wood-nymphs, and numerous sprites or fairies

were supposed to dwell within certain trees, and in some cases

were believed to be able to assume the form of a tree or human

form at will, while' other trees were believed to be fearsome

monsters or ogres who preyed upon human beings. To appease

these dangerous spirits sacrifices and blood offerings were made,

especially when a tree was felled or cut. Among the Vikings and

other races it was customary to lash a prisoner to the ways when

a ship was to be launched, the people believing that when the

vessel crushed the unfortunate victim as



it slid into the sea, his blood would satisfy the demands of the

spirits of the trees sacrificed for timbers and planking, thus

preventing them from wreaking vengeance upon the ship's crew.

This may seem like a most heathenish and terrible custom, yet we

still follow it in a less bloodthirsty manner by substituting a

bottle of wine for human blood when a ship is launched.

In some of the Pacific islands the people believe that the spirits of

their dead chiefs enter certain trees. These are regarded as sacred

and are regularly given food and drink. In former times the trees

were provided with human flesh and blood, but with the abolition

of cannibalism the spirit trees have been forced to be satisfied

with the blood of pigs or other animals smeared upon them.

A far more terrible custom is that of some of the tribes of Central

Africa. These tribes use huge wooden drums for ceremonial

purposes and provide the sections of the trees with a "spirit" or

"soul" by sealing a living boy within them. When the drum has

been almost finished, a boy is given a knife and ordered to crawl

within the hollowed-out shell of wood in order to shave off the

rough projecting portions. Presently the men outside borrow the

boy's knife on some pretext or another and then fasten the head of

the drum in place, sealing the boy in his living tomb. The drum is

then taken into the forest and suspended upon a tree where it

remains until the boy dies a terrible lingering death and his body

becomes desiccated. In this case there is a reversal of the usual

order of things, for instead of the drum being made from a magic

plant, the plant, consisting of a section of tree, is made "magic"

or "medicine" by providing



it with a human spirit. Fortunately the horrible custom has been

almost completely wiped out by the British officials, and instead

of the boy, "magic" stones are now placed in the drums.

A somewhat similar custom, and in its way just as cruel, was

formerly prevalent in Great Britain and elsewhere in Europe and

is still in vogue in remote districts. A hole was bored in a tree,

usually a birch, and a living shrew was placed in the cavity which

was then tightly plugged, thus sealing the little creature within

the tree.

Such "shrew-trees" as they are called, are believed to possess

magic properties. A mere twig from a shrew-tree is a most potent

charm, and a branch placed in a house will insure safety from

witchcraft or any misfortune. On the other hand the owner of one

of these magic plants can employ it to bring misfortune on others.

By means of its occult power he can put "spells" on his enemies,

and merely by touching their cattle with a shrew-tree switch the

cows will go dry and the bewitched creatures will sicken and die.

Of course it is all most ridiculous superstition, yet it was very

real to our ancestors whose favorite expression "beshrew me" had

its origin in the supposed powers of the magic shrew-tree.



Chapter XIV

PLANTS WITH STRANGE USES

WHEN we go fishing we carry a rod and line, hooks and sinkers,

bait or artificial flies, and usually a landing net or a gaff.

How much easier and simpler it would be if we could be relieved

of all this tackle and could go fishing with nothing more than a

bunch of flowers, a pocketful of seeds or a few leaves plucked

from some shrub, tree, or weed.

It may seem as if it would be an impossible feat to catch fish with

such things, but there are many races who find leaves, flowers, or

seeds all the fishing tackle they require, and who catch more fish

in a few minutes than an angler with hook and line could catch in

a day, even if he had unusually good luck.

Perhaps this method of fishing may not be "sport," but it brings

home the bacon---or rather the fish, and when one is dependent

upon fish for one's meals and it is a question of no fish, no

dinner, it is results and not sport that counts. Moreover, this

method of fishing has many advantages over taking fish by hook

or nets, for it doesn't injure the fish in the least, it enables the

fisherman to select those he wants instead of being compelled to

take those he gets, and there is nothing cruel about it.

There are a great number of plants whose leaves,



seeds, or blossoms are used for catching fish, but the action of all

is the same, the juices of the plants stupefying the fish which

float helpless upon the surface of the water where those that are

desired may be dipped up by hand or in a net. In order to

understand just how these strange plants cause the fish to float

we must understand how fish control their submergence when

alive and well.

All fish have air-bladders which serve as buoys or pontoons

to support their weight which, being greater than the amount of

water their bodies displace, otherwise would make them sink to

the bottom. In order to rise towards the surface or to remain

suspended at any desired depth, the fish increases or decreases

the buoyancy of its internal pontoon and by means of its fins

keeps right side up and rises or dives in the same manner as a

submarine by means of its horizontal rudders. It is a popular

belief that when a charge of dynamite is exploded under water

the concussion ruptures the airbladders of the fish which bob up

to the surface. This, however, is not the case. The fish which

appear are those whose pontoons contain enough air to float their

bodies and, being killed or stunned by the explosion, have no

control over their movements and hence rise to the surface. But

those which are deeply submerged with their ballast-tanks filled

with water and their air-tanks empty, sink to the bottom. It is for

this reason that large deepwater fish are seldom obtained by

dynamiting, while the ruptured air-bladders of many dynamited

fish are the result of the sudden change of pressure rather than the

concussion of the charge.

The plants used in capturing fish act in a very differ-



ent manner. Not only do they stupefy the fish like an anaesthetic,

causing them to lose control of their movements and buoyancy,

but they produce a sensation of suffocation forcing the poor fish

to come up for air, where they float helpless but alive and

unharmed at the mercy of the plant-fisherman. No one knows

how many plants affect fish in this way, but a great many

different plants are used in various parts of the world. The

Indians of California use the leaves and pounded roots of the

soap-plant and also the common turkey mullen. In our

southeastern states the seeds or "nuts" of the red buckeye,

pounded and broken and thrown into the water stupefy fish and

cause them to float helplessly to the surface. The natives of the

Canary Islands use the leaves of a euphorbia plant in the same

way, while the Negro tribes of Central Africa gather the

sweet-scented flowers of the muckanyoko trees and by scattering

these in ponds or streams capture vast numbers of fish. In South

America, the Indians have a number of "fishing plants." In

Guiana, the Caribs use the leaves of the mazetta tree and it is a

most interesting and strange sight to see them securing fish in

this simple and convenient manner. If the stream is swift, a

makeshift dam of rocks or a weir of sticks driven into the bottom

is first made in order to partly cheek the current and to form a

fairly quiet area where the fish are to be taken. But if the spot

selected is a sluggish stream or creek or a tranquil pool these

preparations are not necessary. Gathering a few handfuls of the

mazetta leaves, the Indian bruises them between two stones or

pieces of hard wood and tosses the bruised leaves into the water a

few yards above the spot where he expects to get his fish.



The result seems almost magical. Within a few moments fish

appear upon the surface. Some splash and struggle, others rush

here and there and others jump clear of the water. I have

frequently seen a fifty-pound "lukanani" or salmon leap several

feet into the air as it felt the effects of the crushed leaves. But

very quickly the struggles of the fish cease; they give a few

spasmodic flaps of their tails and float motionless, unconscious,

but with gills opening and closing on the surface of the water.

Leaping into the stream or pool, or by means of a net if the water

is deep, the Indians gather up the helpless fish, tossing back any

that do not suit them or those they deem too small. It is not

unusual for the Indians to secure a bushel of fine fish in a few

minutes, but unlike white "sportsmen" the Indians never kill or

take more game or fish than they require, and scores of the fish

are left undisturbed. They do not float long, but presently they

begin to revive. For a few moments they swim about in a most

ludicrous, erratic, and drunken manner, turning first on one side

then the other, heading first one way then another, until having

fully regained their senses they disappear beneath the surface

none the worse for their temporary loss of consciousness.

When we stop to consider that there are many plants which

will render human beings insensible to pain or will cause them to

lose all consciousness for hours at a time, it is not so remarkable

that other plants should have a similar effect upon fish.

Perhaps somewhere there are certain plants which will act as

anaesthetics for every class of animals, and the time may come

when big game will be hunted with



plants instead of with high-powered rifles. Even as it is, plants

play a very important part in trapping animals, for every

experienced and successful trapper uses some lure or scent to

attract animals to his traps, and almost invariably this is

composed largely of plants. We all know how cats are attracted

by catnip and forget everything else once they are reveling in a

clump of this common medicinal weed. Many of the larger cats,

such as lions. tigers, leopards, and jaguars are affected in the

same way by lavender, while bears, raccoons, and other creatures

forget all caution and are irresistibly attracted by the odor of

musk or rhodium. One famous grizzly bear hunter tells a story of

a big bear entering his camp and awakening the trapper by

licking his feet which had become scented from the "lure" he had

rubbed on his boots in order to form a trail of the musk and

rhodium to his traps. The same trapper, who was employed by

the authorities to destroy predacious animals such as wolves,

pumas, wild cats and coyotes, declares that no lynx, bob cat or

puma can resist the scent of oil of catnip and that traps treated

with the oil, especially if combined with decaying meat, will

invariably catch these animals. These plants- catnip, lavender,

musk, rhodium-are far more efficacious than any music when it

comes to charming the "savage breast," while oil of bergamot

will tame the wildest bird. Few persons realize the almost magic

effect which bergamot has upon birds. If you have a canary or

other bird who is wild or nervous and flutters and beats itself

against the bars of its cage in fright when you approach too

closely, just try rubbing a little oil of bergamot upon the bird's

bill about its nostrils. The bird may


struggle in your hand for a few moments, but it will soon calm

down, and after a few applications it will become so tame that it

may be petted and handled and will readily take food from your

hand or perch upon your finger.

Even the insects may be charmed by certain plants. If you rub

your hands with anise you may handle honeybees with impunity

and with no danger of being stung, and even the most savage

hornets become quite peaceful if their nests are sprayed with

anise-seed oil. Every country boy knows what is liable to happen

if he starts to dig out a bumblebees' nest, but I have repeatedly

excavated these bees' burrows without the owners showing any

anger or resentment merely by a liberal use of anise.

On the other hand certain plants, or rather their

Castor-oil bean plant (1/4)




odors or oils, are so distasteful to insects that they keep as far

away as possible.

Every one knows that citronella is a great help in keeping

mosquitoes at a distance. In India the "mosquito bean" is used for

the same purpose, and in the American tropics the natives grow

castor-oil bean plants about their houses, and hang leaves of the

plant in their homes to keep off the mosquitoes. Another insect

pest of the tropics and of our southern states is the red-bug or

"coloradita" as the Latin-Americans call the creature which is

known as the "jigger" in our southern states. Scientifically

speaking, the red-bug is not an insect but a mite closely related to

the spiders, but its proper place in the animal kingdom is of little

interest to any one who is afflicted with the pests. Kerosene.

sulphur, formaline, carbolated vaseline and many other

substances aid in keeping the mites from burrowing into one's

skin and causing an intolerable itching. But none of these

remedies or preventives are as efficacious as crab oil, which is

not made from crabs as many people suppose, but is extracted

from the seeds of the West Indian crab-tree.

Another member of the spider or mite family which is a terrible

pest in the tropics and the South, as well as in some sections of

the North, is the wood-tick or cattle-tick. Immune as are these

pests to nearly all ordinary remedies, they cannot abide the odor

of the common Osage orange, and a liberal use of the juice of the

fruits rubbed on one's skin will afford greater protection from

ticks than anything else known.

But how about fleas? you may ask. Is there any plant which will

keep these pests at a distance? Certainly there is,



although to many persons the "cure may seem worse than the

disease," figuratively speaking, for the plant which causes fleas

to flee is the common onion.

Camphor, as every one knows, acts as a preventive of clothes

moths, although it has largely been supplanted by various

chemicals, and camphor is the gum of a tree. In the old days of

sailing ships, chests of camphor wood were in great demand for

storing woolen garments and furs which were safeguarded from

moths and buffalo beetles by the odor of the wood. Nowadays

camphor-wood chests are rarely seen, but chests of red cedar or

"juniper" are widely used for the same purpose and serve just as

well for the destructive insects find the aromatic and to our

nostrils pleasing, odor of red cedar most obnoxious to them.

Every gardener and the majority of housewives are familiar with

the Persian insect powder which not only drives off but destroys

plant lice, mites, larvae, roaches, and other insect pests and

vermin. But how many know that this yellowish pungent powder

is nothing more than the dried and pulverized flowers of a plant?

In many a garden this pyrethrum plant is grown for its attractive

blossoms which resemble single chrysanthemums to which it is

closely related .

Taming wild animals and birds, luring savage beasts to their

doom, stupefying fish, driving off or destroying insect pests by

means of plants are only a few of the strange uses of strange

plants.

Sometimes, however, the plant used for some strange purpose

may not be strange itself, while in other cases some very strange

plant may be put to some ordinary



everyday use. Such is the yaretta. a very strange plant indeed.

Found only in the bleak, cold Andean regions of South America

where there are no trees and practically no other forms of plant

life other than cacti, dry harsh grasses, lichens and mosses, the

yaretta is a conspicuous feature of the landscape, although a

person unfamiliar with it might never recognize it as a plant. Its

dull, dirty grayish-white color and massive dome shaped form

give it the appearance of a weathered brain coral, or when seen at

a distance, a clump of the strange plants might easily be mistaken

for a flock of sheep. During the greater part of the year it has

neither leaves nor blossoms and appears merely a dry lifeless

mass with crinkled or wrinkled surface resting singly or in large

clusters upon the bare sand and rocks and varying from a few

inches to several feet in diameter. But at certain seasons of the

year small yellow flowers cover the surface of the odd growths

although no sign of a leaf appears. Perhaps the strangest feature

of the yaretta plant is the fact that it is a member of the celery

family. Although it is absolutely inedible, even in its youngest

stages, it is far more useful to the Andean Indians than celery is

to us, for it is most excellent fuel and burns readily with an

intense steady heat and practically no smoke and little flame.

No plant anywhere on earth is better adapted to its environment

than is the yaretta. Growing where there is practically no soil

from which to draw sustenance and water, the plant is almost

rootless and in place of roots has developed a lichen like base

that adheres tightly to the rocks. Constantly bathed in the mist of



drifting clouds, it has acquired a sponge like surface to absorb the

necessary moisture from the air.

Exposed to bitter cold winds and howling blizzards which would

destroy branches and leaves, the yaretta has abandoned these

accessories and is all trunk, as one might say. Its rounded

domelike form offers the least possible resistance to gales and the

greatest possible area of surface to sunshine and air, while its

tough woody texture safeguard it from the weight of deep

Andean snows and the foraging llamas and alpacas. Only to the

hardy Andean Indians is the plant of any use or value, and it

would seem as if Mother Nature had created the plant especially

and solely for the Indians' benefit, to provide them with a fuel in

this otherwise fuelless land of thin cold air miles above the sea.

We all know that many plants contain combustible oils or

gums, such as pitch, resin, turpentine, and the like. Some of these

emit most agreeable odors when burning and are used as incense

in churches and temples as well as in our own homes. Among

these incense plants is the sandalwood tree, the gum elemi, and

the copal. Others, such as resin, pitch, and many gums burn with

brilliant flames and dense clouds of sooty smoke and are often

used for making torches and flares. But there is one plant, the

Mai Yans tree of Siam which provides the natives with

illuminating oil

for use in their lamps. In order to secure this vegetable petroleum

the natives burn holes in the trees. Sap oozes from the wounds

and seeps into the cavities where it accumulates ready to be

gathered and used without further preparation. So widely used is

this strange illuminating oil that it is practically impossible



to find a Mai Yang tree that has not been tapped by dozens of

these miniature oil wells.

In other lands the natives find a very different use for certain

kinds of trees and transform them into living water-towers. Many

tropical trees, such as the ceibas or silk-cotton trees, the baobabs,

the tefeldi trees and others, have few branches and short,

immensely stout trunks. The wood of the interior is soft, pithy

and worthless, but is surrounded with a thin shell of hard wood

and bark. Very often these huge trees are hollow, the pithy

interior having decayed or been destroyed by insects, yet the

trees continue to grow and thrive, apparently none the worse for

having lost the greater part of their substance. Some bright and

observant savage may have noticed this and immediately

conceived the idea of taking advantage of it to benefit himself

and his fellow tribesmen. On the other hand some thirsty native

may have discovered that a hollow tefeldi tree contained rain

water which was drinkable, and realized the neglected

possibilities of the big tree near his hut or village. At all events

the natives of Africa and other lands make good use of the obese

trees by hollowing out the trunks and transforming them into

living tanks for storing water which remains sweet cool, and pure

indefinitely.

Strange as are many of the purposes for which plants are used by

man there is no stranger use than that of tobacco. It is also a

strange and interesting fact that when we say "tobacco" we are

unwittingly speaking of the pipe in which the plant is smoked

and not of the plant itself.

When the Spaniards first saw Indians smoking tobacco in the

West Indies and asked the natives the name of the strange plant,



the Indians misunderstood, and thinking the white men wished to

learn their name for the pipe, they replied "toba-go." So tobago

the plant was called by the Spaniards and in the corrupted form

tobacco it became known to all English-speaking people.

How or why the Indians first discovered the use of tobacco or

acquired the habit is as great a mystery as how they learned to

transform poisonous manioc to nutritious food, how they

discovered that the fermented seed-pod of an orchid developed a

delicious flavor or how they learned how to prepare cacao beans

to afford a most nutritious beverage. Tobacco in its natural state

and merely dried is a mighty poor material to smoke. In fact one

might as well smoke turnip, cabbage, or almost any other dried

leaves as far as flavor or enjoyment goes. In order to bring out

the flavor and aroma of tobacco, the leaves must undergo a long,

complicated and delicate process of drying, fermentation, and

curing. Even the finest of tobaccos are worthless unless properly

prepared, and the treatment varies greatly, depending upon

whether the tobacco is to be used for cigars, cigarettes, for pipe

smoking, for snuff, or for chewing. Yet somehow, by some

means, the Indians had discovered how to prepare tobacco for all

of these uses ages before the first white men arrived in America,

for cigars, cigarettes, and pipes were all in use by the Indians of

North, South and Central America and many used snuff or

chewed tobacco.

Yet tobacco was not as universally used by our northern tribes as

is generally supposed. The majority of



the tribes who dwelt in what is now the United States regarded

tobacco as semi-sacred and used it mainly for ceremonial

purposes. Moreover, in the northern districts, such as New

England and the districts about the Great Lakes and on the plains,

tobacco was very scarce and valuable. A certain amount was

grown in the rich valleys of New England, but the greater portion

was brought from the southern districts and was acquired by

trade and hence the supply was very limited. But our northern

Indians did not go smokeless because of this. From time

immemorial they had smoked sweet fern, the inner bark of red

willow, the silky cornel and other plants. Moreover, they had

learned how to mix or blend some or all of these, together with

bear berries and sumac berries to produce a very good substitute

for tobacco. This mixture was the "kinnikinnick" of the

Algonquin races, who as a rule mixed a certain amount of

tobacco with the other plants.

Neither were all Indians tobacco addicts. Many never used

tobacco in any form, and it is doubtful if any Indian ever

acquired the habit to the extent of white men. But by vastly

improving the Indians' methods of preparing tobacco, and by

raising superior varieties of the plants, white men made the use of

tobacco far more enjoyable and pleasant.

Many persons think that smoking was invented by our Indians

and that the habit spread from America to every quarter of the

globe. But ages before America's existence was suspected by

Europeans, men smoked plant products. Among these was opium

which as every one knows is obtained from the sap of the

Oriental or white poppy. But unlike tobacco, which is



smoked for its pleasant flavor and as a mild stimulant or

sedative-depending upon the smoker---or as a ceremony, opium

is smoked because of its narcotic properties which produce a

stupor and strange dreams or visions. Another plant that is

smoked for a somewhat similar reason is the true hemp plant of

India and

other parts of the Orient. It is strange indeed that a plant which is

the source of one of our most valuable and widely used fibers

should also be one of the most injurious and mind-destroying of

drugs. To be sure, the hemp plant that is cultivated for its tough,

strong fibers is not the identical plant employed in making

hashish, bhang, and ganja, smoked by the people of the East

Indies. But the latter plant is merely a variety of the former which

may be used as a substitute if the other is not available. Hashish,

which is perhaps the most widely smoked of these hemp drugs, is

prepared from the acrid, resinous gum of the hemp seeds and

tops, while bhang and ganja are made from the dried leaves and

seed-capsules and are both smoked and chewed. Unlike opium,

hashish or bhang do not produce unconsciousness, but result in a

peculiar hypnotic state in which the user is conscious, but has the

sensation of being in another sphere and life. Sounds, colors, and

light are exaggerated and distorted, and glorious visions of riches

and everything desirable fill the addict's brain.

Many persons confuse this Oriental hemp with the native

American weed known as "Indian hemp." The name does not

refer to India but to our Indians, not because our North American

tribesmen smoked the plant, but because they used its fibrous

bark for bow



strings and other purposes and employed its medicinal root as a

cathartic and emetic. It is a very different plant from the hemp of

India, and is not even a true hemp for that matter. The true hemp

of the Orient is a member of the mulberry family and is known to

botanists as Cannabis sativa, the variety Indica being the source

of "hashish." The narcotic derived from it is also known as

Cannabis indica. The native American "Indian hemp" belongs to

another family of plants, its botanical name being Apocynum

cannabinum. Unfortunately the term marijuana is now applied to

both the drug-producing introduced Oriental hemp and the

harmless native "Indian hemp."

Much has been said and written about this common weed.

Greatly exaggerated statements have been made as to its horrible

effects upon those who smoke it, and stringent means have been

taken to put an end to its use and to exterminate the plant itself.

Worthy as the cause may be, it is a hopeless task to accomplish

either the one or the other. We might just as well attempt to

exterminate the white daisy, the wild carrot, the ragweed, the

dandelion or the witch-grass, for the plant grows anywhere and

everywhere. Vacant lots in the cities, rubbish dumps, wayside

fields, even neglected back yards are all equally acceptable to this

vagabond plant, and wherever it grows it may be gathered and

smoked. Yet despite its abundance and the fact that this Indian

hemp plant has been used to some extent for untold centuries, the

habit of smoking it has never become very widespread or general.

Partly this is due to the fact that comparatively few persons

recognize the weed when they see it, but another reason that it



has never become popular is because it does not have a pleasant

or agreeable flavor and, in the case of many persons, it has less

effect than tobacco by itself. Far be it from me to argue in favor

of the marijuana smokers or the plant. But I have dwelt among

people who were habitual smokers of the weed and I cannot

truthfully say that I could see that they suffered any ill effects

from it. In the Canal Zone very elaborate and careful tests were

made to determine the truth of the matter, and soldiers who used

it and those who did not were studied, queried and

psychoanalyzed. The conclusion reached was about what might

have been expected. Some men suffered terribly when deprived

of it, others felt no desire for it if provided with tobacco. Certain

individuals admitted they got a "kick" out of it while others

declared it did not affect them in the least. In other words the net

result was to prove the truth of the old saying that "what is one

man's food is another man's poison."

The real truth of the matter is that our native weed known as

"Indian 'hemp" has not only been confused with the hemp plant

of India in so far as its injurious effects are concerned, but in

many cases the effects of true hemp have been attributed to,

Apocynum, owing to the fact that in many localities the true

hemp plants have become naturalized and grow wild. This is not

surprising, for at one time large areas of land in the United States

were devoted to hemp cultivation, and the seeds from abandoned

fields have been carried here and there.

However, irrespective of the seriousness of the effects of hemp

smoking, it is unquestionably a form of





drug habit, and many persons, especially boys and girls, have

most unfortunately become addicts. Even if it is not as injurious a

habit as smoking opium or hashish, it tends to lessen the will

power, to deaden the sensibilities, both mental and physical, and

to induce a laxity in morality. Hence it should be stamped out.

The great problem is to do so.

Whether or not the tobacco habit is injurious is a mooted

question. Those who decry the use of tobacco would have us

believe that it is responsible for nearly every ill that afflicts the

human race, and that smoking is the most direct and certain road

to perdition. But unfortunately for these extremists, statistics and

incontrovertible facts prove that many inveterate smokers and

tobacco chewers live as long and often even longer than those

who have never smoked or chewed, and countless habitual users

of tobacco are almost abnormally healthy. Many righteous and

goodly men, even priests and ministers of the Gospel, are tobacco

addicts, while many of the most despicable scoundrels and

hardened criminals have never smoked or chewed.

There is no question that tobacco is a stimulant and a narcotic,

but so are many other plants which we use daily, such as coffee,

tea, cocoa, and chocolate. Probably the truth is that like many

another plant, tobacco also is "one man's food and another's

poison," for while some men are made deathly ill by the mere

odor of tobacco smoke others smoke or chew or take snuff

constantly with no ill results, morally, mentally, or physically.

It would seem as if there were plenty of other matters of more

importance than tobacco to keep reformers



busy, especially as nothing they can say or do will ever decrease

the consumption of the plant.

And even the most rabid and fanatical anti-tobacco apostle

must admit that the "sinful" habit acquired from the Indians has

been of inestimable benefit to the world at large. Hundreds of

thousands of men and women earn a livelihood from the tobacco

industry. Millions of acres of land are devoted to the cultivation

of this strange American plant, and billions of dollars are put into

circulation and enrich our country because people will smoke and

chew tobacco. Think what a calamity it would be if every one

stopped using tobacco! Not only would it mean ruin and

bankruptcy to countless people in our own land, but to many in

practically every country on earth, for the broad-leaved plant first

cultivated and used by the American Indians is now one of the

most important crops of all the continents and many of the

islands of the world.



Chapter XV

PLANT TRAVELERS

Every one who has taken a walk in the country in autumn or late

summer knows beggar's-ticks, those variously shaped and

colored seeds that stick so tenaciously to our garments. Some are

little spheres covered with spines, others are long and narrow,

others almost rectangular, others oval, for beggar's-ticks or

beggar's-lice are the seeds of a great many different plants. One

of the commonest is the bur-mariqold, while the round seeds of

the cockle-bur, the two-tined black devil's anchors, and the seeds

of the green-bur are all well known nuisances. So also are the

seed-heads of the burdock with their countless fish-hooklike

spines, while many of the aster and goldenrod plants contribute

their share of tiny barbed seeds covered with soft fluff which

stick to one's clothing and give one the appearance of having

been showered with feather down.

Some have such stiff, sharp spines that they puncture one's skin

and cause painful wounds. Such are the spherical seeds of the

cockle or bur-grass so abundant in our southern states. Once the

tiny spines of such seeds become embedded in the skin it is very

difficult to remove them for they are covered with minute barbs

like those on a fish-spear.

Lodging in the skin they cause irritation and itching and the more

the spot is rubbed or scratched the deeper





they penetrate, often causing serious sores or ulcers or even

necessitating a surgical operation in order to remove them. In

such cases the seeds overdo their parts and gain nothing, for all

of these various sticktight seeds are habitual hitchhikers and their

purpose is to travel from place to place at some one's else

expense, until the obliging carrier wearies of their company and

brushes or scrapes them off and leaves them to shift for

themselves. This is precisely what Nature intended, for the seeds,

dislodged far from their parent plants, take root and grow and

produce more hitchhiking seeds to travel and spread their kind

still farther.

When we stop to consider the matter, it seems strange indeed that

while we think of plants, and especially trees, as stationary fixed

objects, they are among the greatest of travelers. In fact many

plants have traveled completely around the earth and from the

Arctic to the Antarctic regions. Moreover, they journey hither

and yon by much the same means of transportation as those used

by human beings. In addition to the plant hitch-hikers there are

plant aeroplanes, plant autogiros, plant parachutes, plant boats,

and plant busses. There are also plants that creep and plants that

walk, but like human pedestrians these seldom travel very far

from home and move so slowly that they are left far behind by

their fellows who avail themselves of mechanical means of

transportation.

A very large proportion of plant travelers are air minded, and on

any autumn day we may see countless plant aircraft on the move.

As the pods of the milkweeds ripen they split open, releasing the

scores of


1. Dandelion seeds (about 1/2) 8. Sand-box seed capsule (about 1/3) 2. Thistle seeds (about 1/2) 9. Walking fern (about 1/3) 3. Basswood seed (about 1/3) 10. Cockle-bur (about 1/2). 4. Maple seeds (about 1/3) 11. Teasel bur (about 1/3) 5. Elm seed (about 1/2) 12. Chestnut bur (about 1/3) 6. Milkweed (about 1/6) 13. Grapple plant seed (about 1/2) 6A. Milkweed pod and seeds (about1/3)

14. Lizard tree (about 1/30) 15. Air-cabbage (about 1/12)

7. Jewel-weed or Touch-me-not (about 1/4)




aircraft stored within the plants' hangars. Quickly they emerge,

their silken wings folded back along their sleek brown fuselages,

and instantly, as they come forth, their wings spring open and

catching the faintest breath of air they go sailing off to unknown

destinations. Other autumnal aerial travelers are the tiny

fluff-covered seeds of asters, the shimmering gossamer winged

aircraft of the thistles, and the breeze-borne seeds of the wild

clematis or virgin's bower with their oddly twisted feathery

wings.

We may see the dandelion's gliders also, although the great

majority of these have winged away from their parent plants

during the summer, for the dandelions, as well as a number of the

thistles and other plants, do not wait for the approach of frosty

weather before sending their offspring on their cruises. But


earliest of all are the poplar and willow trees whose fluff-covered

seeds have filled the air and covered the earth and have clung to

every object where they fell before spring merged into summer.

Although we consider most of these silken or feathery-vinged

seeds as nuisances, for mainly they are the seeds of weeds, yet

there are some which are of immense importance and value to

man. The thick, silky, brownish fiber that covers the seeds of the

ceiba

Cotton (1/4)

trees and transforms them into plant balloons is used for a

number of commercial purposes (see Chapter X), but the most

important and valuable of all flying seeds are those of a

yellow-flowered hibiscus which we know as cotton. I wonder

how many persons realize that the soft white fiber which is one

of the most valuable and essential of crops was designed by

Nature to float and carry the seeds through the air and thus spread

the plants far and wide. But I’ll wager there are even fewer persons who




know that the okra or gumbo we use as a vegetable or in our

soups is the seed-pod of a plant closely related to the cotton, and

that the gelatinous slippery material surrounding the immature

seeds would become silken fibers to bear the seeds on their

travels if the pods were left to ripen on the plants.

A very different type of aircraft carry the seeds of many trees on

their journeys. Those of the basswood or linden with their broad

blades may be likened to parachutes, for the rudderlike fins are

too small to carry the seeds any great distance and merely prevent

them from dropping swiftly and directly to earth beneath the

parent branches.

On the other hand the elm trees, maples, ash, and tulip trees

believe in safety first with distance a second consideration, and

have seeds with blades that serve as horizontal propellers and

transform them to miniature autogiros.

A great number of plants whose seeds travel the greatest

distances rely upon common carriers to transport them for

hundreds or even thousands of miles from their original homes.

Some of these pay for their transportation by covering their seeds

with flesh or pulp. This provides food for birds and serves as

tickets for the seeds which the feathered travelers carry with them

as they move from place to place and drop the seeds here and

there. Some of these seeds, such as the "pits" of cherries, haws,

and other fruits, are so hardshelled that they remain unaffected by

the birds' digestive apparatus, and are dropped with their

excrement. Birds, however, are not the only creatures who carry

seeds in this manner. In the tropics, the fruit-eating



bats are among the greatest of seed-spreaders, while the big bats

known as flying foxes of the East Indies provide man with the

most valuable of all coffees. These giant bats feed on the coffee

berries during the night and spend the day hanging in vast

numbers in their roosts. In these places the indigestible coffee

beans accumulate with the bats' guano. These beans when

gathered and cleansed, are the source of the highly esteemed and

costly Old Government Java coffee whose superior flavor is the

result of some chemical effect of the bats' digestive fluids.

Many fruit- and berry-bearing plants trust largely to luck for the

transportation of their seeds. As the birds dine on the sticky fruits

some of the pulp filled with the seeds adheres to the birds' beaks

or even to their feet, and is dropped here and there as the birds

wipe their bills against branches and twigs or the pulp dries and

drops off. We might think that such seeds would not be carried

long distances, but birds fly swiftly and far and may travel

thousands of miles in a few days. Moreover, before starting on a

long flight, especially during migrations, they gorge themselves

in preparation, and the seeds that adhere to their beaks when they

eat their last meal before taking off may remain there until the

feathered carriers reach their destinations. Of course, there are

many seeds carried in this manner which will not sprout or grow

in the spots where they fall. It is lucky for us that this is so, for if

all the northern seeds carried south by birds should take root in

tropical lands, and all seeds that the birds bring from the tropics

should thrive in the north, there would be little chance of raising

our crops.


It is also fortunate that while many of our plants will thrive in

warm climates, few tropical plants will grow in our land and will

survive our winters.

No one can say with certainty how far seeds may travel by the

bird airways, but tiny seeds from waterplants of the Argentine

have been found in the mud adhering to the feet of wading birds

killed in our northern states.

Many plants prefer land travel to air travel, and some provide

their seeds with vehicles that go rolling across the country like

plant-trucks or buses. One of the commonest of these is the

tumbleweed so abundant on plains and prairies, especially in our

western states. When the seeds are ripe the tumbleweed folds

itself into a ball and, releasing the hold of its roots, it goes rolling

across the land at the whim of the winds, dropping its seeds along

its route.

Cocoanut in husk

Other plants send their seeds cruising on the surface of lakes,

ponds, rivers, or even on the ocean. Nature has enclosed these

seeds in waterproof buoyant coverings which serve as rafts or

boats, and some even have little wings which serve as sails to

catch the slightest breeze. Among these seed-boats is the

cocoanut. Enclosed within




its thick fibrous husk with its waterproof and watertight skin,

these palm-seeds are perfectly designed for long ocean voyages.

Falling from the trees that rear their fronds above the tropical

shores the nuts are carried afar by the wind and waves until,

washed upon some coral reef or island beach or stranded on some

low-lying land, the nuts sprout. From the "eyes" in the end of the

hard shell ropelike roots burrow into the sand and a leaf-bud

shoots upward and rapidly unfolds. The cocoanut's travels are at

end and from the rotting hull a graceful palm-tree comes into

being.

Still another strange method of scattering seeds is that of the

air-cabbage, an air-plant of the West Indian forests. It is very

appropriately named, for it looks very much like an everyday

cabbage growing upon the limb of a tree. But instead of having a

firm dense "head" the center of the air-cabbage is hollow, the

leaf-bases forming a little cup which in due time is filled with

seeds. How on earth can those seeds ever reach the ground? you

wonder. Will they be carried away by some bird or other

creature? No, indeed. The air-cabbage doesn't require the help of

any outsider to scatter its seeds. It can take care of that important

matter all by itself, and it does so in a truly wonderful way.

The roots of the plant are small and weak and as the seeds mature

the plant's leaves swell and spread, until it becomes top heavy.

Then at the first strong breeze or heavy shower it capsizes and

out tumble the seeds which drop to the earth or find lodgment on

other branches where they sprout and grow.

An even stranger means of sowing seeds is to shoot


them from a plant-gun. Some of our commonest plants employ

this method. Among these are the touch-me-nots or jewel-weeds,

the wood sorrels, the pansies and the violets. All of these familiar

plants have seed-pods which burst open with a little pop and

throw the enclosed seeds for some distance. But the "big bertha"

of plant artillery is a tree known as the sand-box which is

Milkwort (1/2)

common in tropical America. The fruit or seed-capsules of these

trees are circular, three or four inches in diameter and about an

inch in thickness, with deeply scalloped edges. When these

handsome pods ripen they explode with a report like that of a

giant fire-cracker and shoot the flat seeds in every direction like

so much shrapnel. During the season when the sand-box seeds




are ripening a constant fusillade may be heard and the seeds fall

like hail. These plant-projectiles have considerable force and I

have known a seed-capsule within a cigar-box to blow the sides

apart when it exploded.

In the West Indies the natives say that every time a sand-box pod

explodes it announces a lizards' wedding. If so the reptiles must

have a mania for getting married.

The great majority of plants trust in luck to have their seeds lodge

in favorable spots in which to grow, and produce such vast

numbers of seeds that some are almost certain to do so. But the

pretty little milkworts or wild bachelor's buttons of our southern

states take a most unusual precaution to insure the perpetuation

and spread of their family. At the summits of their stalks they

display showy orange or yellow flowers which are conspicuous

enough to attract insects from far and near. But the milkwort

believes in preparedness and produces a second set of very

different flowers. If all goes well and the gaudy blossoms are

fertilized by insects, the spare flowers never develop beyond the

bud stage. They have no petals, no nectaries and even the pistils

are rudimentary. But if the showy blooms fail to lure insects, the

reserve flowers mature and produce seeds by a strange method of

self-fertilization.

Preparedness is the watchword with a great many plants. Some,

such as the houseleeks and life-leaf plants produce seeds, and in

addition have thick fleshy leaves capable of producing new

plants. If one of these leaves drops off and falls to the ground

tiny roots will appear on the lower surface, a little shoot will

spring from the


upper surface and a new plant will soon take the place of the

vagrant leaf. Even when a leaf is pinned to a board or any other

object it will sprout and grow quite as well as when resting on the

ground.

Houseleek (1/2)

Other plants spread by means of running roots as well as by

seeds, and send up new plants as they burrow along just beneath

the surface of the earth, while some plants walk or stride along.

One of these is the walking fern which is fairly common on

mountainsides and other rocky spots in our eastern states. You

might not recognize this plant as a fern, for its leaves, instead of

being plume like or feathery, have only a




few leaflets, with the tip of the leaf extending in a slender ribbon.

As the leaf grows, this fingerlike central portion bends towards

the earth and taking root produces a new plant. This in turn

produces leaves that creep onward and produce still more plants

which in turn progress by this strange series of leaf-strides.

Many plants produce seeds which are true amphibians, while

others provide their seeds with life preservers. The bladder-nut

seeds have three water-tight compartments like those of a modern

steamship, so that in case the flying seeds fall into the water they

will float safely until washed or blown ashore. The pods of the

locust and acacia trees, as well as those of many other plants,

have seeds enclosed in water-tight compartments, while the seeds

of the dock and various other common plants are provided with a

buoyant covering that acts as a life preserver if the seeds

accidentally fall into the water. Man may think he invented

corkfilled life preservers, but the common dock has seeds

surrounded with a layer of cork.

Every one knows how hopeless it is to attempt to walk across

mud, and in the south of France the shepherds solve the problem

by wearing stilts. But long before man appeared on earth certain

plants had taken to stilts to travel over the mud where they grow.

These are the mangrove and black-jack trees of the tropics and

warm countries where they form dense jungles in the shallow

water of river mouths and swamps and along muddy shores.

They are strange-looking trees, for instead of having trunks that

grow directly from the mud their trunks end some distance above

the surface of the water and are supported by numerous


tough, stiff roots that serve as stilts. These anchor the trees

securely and yet leave open spaces through which the waves may

surge and wash without meeting the resistance of large trunks.

But even more wonderful than this means of self-protection is the

Mangrove tree

manner in which these trees spread. With no solid ground

beneath them the seeds would have small chances if they dropped

from the branches into the water. Nature, however, has taken

good care of this and has overcome the difficulty in a most

unique way. Instead

of dropping off when ripe, the mangrove seeds remain




attached to the branches until they have sprouted and have

produced roots. Then when they fall, the roots sink to the muddy

bottom of the swamp or lagoon and at once anchor the young

plants firmly.

Perhaps you wonder why these plants do not drown if their roots

are always under water. Old Mother Nature attended to that detail

too. If you should examine the curved, crooked and arched

root-girders that support the trees above water you would find a

great number of little filaments which you might easily mistake

for tiny roots or tendrils, but these are really breathing devices

consisting of countless minute tubes leading to the underwater

roots and supplying them with the essential air.

Finally these truly wonderful trees produce roots from their

branches, and these growing downward, anchor themselves to the

mud and become new trees. By means of these aerial roots and

their seeds the mangroves spread rapidly in every direction and

form dense, almost impenetrable jungles. This habit makes them

most useful plants, for silt and rubbish, dead leaves and twigs,

become lodged against the countless sprawling roots and form

solid land. Tens of thousands of acres of land are yearly added to

the coast lines of Florida and other shores where the mangroves

grow, and as the new land forms the mud-loving trees go

marching seaward supported on their root-stilts and constantly

leaving more land behind them. Even when dead the mangroves

serve a useful purpose, for their bark is one of the best of all tan

barks and hundreds of tons are used for transforming hides to

leather to provide us with shoes, straps, suit-cases, and other

articles.



Many species of grass are land-builders and win land from the

sea. The marram grass or sand-reed has been widely used to

protect shores from erosion by the sea or the waters of large

lakes, and to form new land. Not only do the roots grow to great

depth anchoring the grass firmly to solid ground beneath the

shifting sands, but they also send out countless small roots which

mat and bind the sand together. In addition to this, the roots suck

up immense quantities of water, and being continually damp

cause the grains of sand to adhere to them.



Chapter XVI

PLANT PUBLIC ENEMIES

JUST what do we mean when we speak of a weed? That little

four-letter word is most difficult to define. In fact it is capable of

several definitions, not one of which is strictly correct or even

wholly explanatory.

We might say that a weed is a wild plant that is a nuisance. But

there are many weeds that are cultivated plants, just as there are

many wild plants that are not nuisances. Neither would we be

explicit if we should state that weeds are plants that grow where

they are not wanted or plants that interfere with the cultivation of

desirable plants. A great many weeds, as we call them, grow on

vacant lots, rubbish piles, and similar unsightly places and hence

should be desirable, while fully as many rarely or never interfere

with cultivation. If we state that weeds are plants which are

neither useful nor ornamental we would be wrong, for a great

number of our worst weeds are either useful or ornamental or

both, as for example the black-eyed Susans, the white or ox-eyed

daisies, the goldenrods and asters, jimson-weed and tansy

yarrow, and chicory and many other plants. Moreover, plants

which are considered bad weeds in one locality or in one country

may be regarded as most desirable and valuable plants in another

place. We cultivate the scarlet salvia, the portulacca, the poppy

and various other flowering plants



and think them most desirable, yet in their native lands these

plants are looked upon as obnoxious weeds.

On the other hand plants which we consider bad weeds, such as

the dandelion, mullen, wild asters, goldenrod, white daisies and

others are highly prized as cultivated plants in other countries.

In fact the question, "What is a weed?" is about as difficult to

answer as the senseless query, "How old was Ann?''

But there are certain plants which are universally considered

weeds, real public enemies of the plant population. Among them

there are gangsters, racketeers, hijackers, robbers, thugs,

murderers, kidnappers, and prototypes of practically every class

of human criminals. And like human scoundrels and outlaws

these plant rascals are constantly quarreling and fighting among

themselves. There is no more honor among plant thieves than

among human thieves, despite the old adage to the contrary. They

are tough guys, too, and can certainly "take it," for harsh

treatment and injuries that would kill most plants leave these

plant public enemies apparently unharmed and quite able to carry

on their nefarious careers. Even when we think we have killed

them they often come to life, recover, and are soon back at their

old tricks. The death and destruction of their fellows does not

deter them in the least and is as ineffective in results as the

imprisonment or execution of human criminals.

Only by ruthlessly slaughtering them, and by destroying their

offspring, can we prevent them from gaining the upper hand and

wiping out the desirable and law-abiding members of the plant

community.


This, however, is as difficult an undertaking as to apprehend and

eliminate any other criminal. Some are brazen villains and make

no attempt to conceal their identity. They are like the old "bad

men" of the wild and woolly West and trust to their offensive and

defensive weapons for safety. Among these are the

Nettle (1/2)

thistles with their armament of sharp spines, the stinging nettles,

the cat-briars with their thorns, the sneezeweed, the nightshades

and jimson-weed with their poison gases, the cockle-burs with

their prickly irritating seed-cases and many others.

On the other hand some plant outlaws wear disguises and pretend

to be something else hoping to escape detection in this manner.

Others sneak about ever striving to make themselves

inconspicuous while carrying on their nefarious activities. Such




are the root-rot fungoid plants, the mildews and molds, the

various rusts and smuts. Still others follow the custom of the

more intelligent, and also the more dangerous, human criminals

who wear stylish, expensive clothing, drive costly cars, and to

use a slang expression "put on a front," hoping that because of

their appearance they will be mistaken for honest well-to-do

citizens.

The bluff works out as well in the plant world as among human

beings and many a bad weed "gets by " and is spared because of

its attractive appearance or beautiful flowers. Among these weeds

who trust for safety to their "glad rags" are the daisies and asters,

the goldenrods and wild coreopsis, the buttercups and sweet

briars, the poppies and many other flowering plants. But by far

the greatest number of plant public enemies rely upon being

"tough." The common dandelion makes no attempt to hide away

or to conceal its identity, but develops a root so long, and

penetrating so deeply into the earth, that nine times out of ten

when the weed is dug up a portion of the root is left and a new

plant soon sprouts from this. The same is true of the mullen, the

obnoxious plantain and numerous other weeds. The hawkweed

sends runners in every direction just beneath the surface of the

earth, and if a fragment of these is left, new plants will spring as

if by magic from it. The witch-grass safeguards itself and also

spreads by means of surface roots or shoots which creep in every

direction, anchoring themselves securely as they travel over the

ground, and sending



up new plants from the joints. We may tear up and destroy vast

numbers of these plants, but unless every cruising, creeping stem

and every clinging root is eliminated the weeds will soon be as

numerous as ever. Some weeds are so "tough" that even a leaf or

a bit of the stalk dropped upon the earth will produce a new plant,

while others outwit their human enemies by developing seeds

which ripen so rapidly and so early in the season that before the

plants become conspicuous or threatening their seeds have

already been scattered far and wide. Moreover, many of these

most insidious weeds produce seeds so similar to those of the

desirable plants among which they live that they can only be

detected by a skilled botanist using a microscope. And when the

agriculturist sows his seeds he unconsciously plants thousands of

weed seeds along with the others. A single pound of clover seed

has been found to contain fourteen thousand weed seeds

representing four different species of plant public enemies.

Fortunately for our farmers only a very small portion of seeds

germinate and grow, for if all those fourteen thousand weed

seeds in a pound of clover seeds should develop into weed plants,

the poor farmer would stand small chances of freeing his fields of

the plant racketeers. For that matter, even as it is, our

hard-working farmers and our gardeners would wage a losing

battle against their plant enemies were it not for the assistance of

Nature's "G-men" and police. The most efficient of these are the

birds, for countless species of birds dine only on seeds and many

prefer weeds' seeds to all others. The cheery little American

goldfinch is commonly known as "thistle bird" owing to its

well-known fondness





for the seeds of thistles. Yet many farmers kill or drive off these

birds merely because they occasionally vary their diet by eating

the seeds of carrots, beets, or other cultivated plants. All

members of the sparrow and finch families depend upon seeds

for a living and prefer weed seeds, while the common Carolina or

mourning-doves and the little ground doves of our southern states

are most voracious consumers of weed seeds, as are the

bob-whites and other quails and many members of the starling

family such as the red-winged and rusty blackbirds, the

bob-o'-links, the meadow-larks and the cow-buntings. Few

farmers or others appreciate the tremendous service rendered by

birds in keeping weeds under control. Examinations of the

stomach contents of one bob-white revealed 1,700 weed seeds

while another had recently swallowed 5,000 seeds of common

weeds. The stomachs of a pair of mourning-doves contained

7,500 seeds of sorrel and 9,200 seeds of pigeon grass. When we

consider that these were merely the seeds which the birds had

swallowed within the space of a few hours, and that many more

had been digested, and that there are vast numbers of these birds

steadily consuming an equal number of seeds from sunrise until

sunset every day, we begin to realize what an incalculable service

the seed-eating birds render.

Even insects play an important part as weed-destroyers. Many of

our commonest caterpillars-the larvae of moths and

butterflies-feed only upon certain noxious weeds. Not only do

they devour the leaves, but some species burrow into the stalks

and others dwell within the seed-pods and dine on the immature

seeds, while still others prefer a diet of the weeds' flowers.



The larvae of many beetles devour the roots and bore into the

stems of weeds and weeds only. And the little froghoppers who

produce the frothy masses of "spittle" seen on plant-stems in the

spring, feed mainly on the sap of various weeds. Moreover, as

there are a dozen weeds to every valuable or cultivated plant,

even the omnivorous insects that feed on both wild and cultivated

plants serve a very valuable purpose by eating the weeds, even if

they may be pests in our gardens. Many of these, such as the

rickets, certain aphids, and beetles, prefer the weeds, as any one

may prove by gathering an equal number of weeds and garden

plants and counting the number of insects found in each

group.

Probably the average farmer or gardener would scoff at the idea

of our commonest and worst weeds having a commercial value.

But it is a case of ignorance being bliss, for many of these plant

outlaws and public enemies are worth as much or even more,

pound for pound, than the crops raised with so much care and

trouble by the agriculturist. I admit that it does sound

preposterous and ridiculous to state that dandelions, witch-grass

and other detested weeds have any real monetary value, but such

is the case, for many of our commonest weeds possess medicinal

qualities and are in constant demand, and when carefully and

properly prepared or dried bring high prices, a number of them

being worth several dollars a pound.

Among the most important and commonest of these valuable

weeds are the following:

Yarrow. Used as a tonic and an infusion for indigestion.



American senna. The mature leaves and seeds are dried and an

infusion of these is used as a laxative.

Boneset. Dried leaves and flowers are made into a tea which is a

laxative-tonic when taken cold and is excellent for sore throat

and malaria when hot.

Pennyroyal. Used as a cure for colic and other bowel troubles.

Dittany. A tea made from the leaves is a mild stimulant and

relieves fevers.

Gumplant. This sunflower of the Middle West is the source of the

"Grindelia" of our drug stores and is used as a medicine for

affections of the throat, lungs and blood.

Jimson-weed. The dried leaves when burned emit a pungent

smoke which is one of the few known remedies for asthma. In the

drug stores this well-known, abundant, poisonous weed is sold

under the scientific name, Stramonium.

Burdock. The roots are widely used as a blood purifier.

Witch-grass. couch grass. Roots of these noxious weeds are

highly esteemed as medicine.

Pokeweed. This is the "Phytolacca" of the drug stores and is used

as a remedy for skin and blood diseases.

Mullen. Both leaves and dried flowers are employed

in medicine being used in the treatment of colds, catarrh and

nervous affections.

Tansy. Sold as "Tanacetum" in the stores it is a well-known

medicine.

Dandelion. One of the most popular of the old "herbs





and simples," the dandelion still holds its own as a simple and

excellent tonic and blood-purifier.

Considering the superabundance of these and other useful weeds,

it seems strange indeed that we should be obliged to depend upon

other lands to supply the demand. Yet such is the case and each

year we import more than 25 tons of burdock, 60 tons of

dandelion, 125 tons of witch-grass, 15 tons of tansy, 75 tons of

jimson-weed (or Jamestown-weed as it should be called) and

many tons of boneset, hoarhound, dittany, pennyroyal, senna,

yarrow, and other common weeds. Yet every year our farmers

throw away, burn, and otherwise destroy thousands of tons of

these same weeds. Surely we cannot blame other nations if they

consider Americans a most wasteful lot.

Moreover, there are countless weeds which have an industrial

value other than for medicinal purposes. Among the most

important of these are the plants used as dyes. To be sure, the

invention and widespread use of the cheap aniline dyes have

played havoc with vegetable dyes, but many of the arts and crafts

guilds which have been and are constantly being established

throughout the country, use vegetable dyes only.

A complete list of the common wild plants and weeds which are

employed in dying would fill many pages, but among the

commonest which may properly be included among the weeds

are the pokeweed which may be used for dying pink, rose, red, or

purple. The berries of cahosh, viburnum, and the elders which

give blue dyes. The leaves of St.-John's-wort and the roots and

stalks of sorrel from which red dyes are made. Wild



madder is used for dying orange and crimson, while yellow dyes

are made from wild sunflowers, goldenrod, yellow-wood,

barberry roots, burdock, cockle-burs, dock root, vetch,

meadow-rue, nettle flowers, teasels, jewel-weed, and many other

weeds.

Just as police records prove that the majority of human criminals

are aliens or naturalized citizens, so we find the worst and most

numerous of our plant enemies are undesirable aliens. It is true

that we have an abundance of native American weeds, but the

immigrants are the most objectionable and dangerous. They are

true hijackers of the plant world and "muscle in" on the native

plant-gangsters, force them to take second place, and become the

"big shots" of the weed criminals. In their home lands they had

many natural enemies to keep them from increasing beyond all

bounds, but when they emigrated to the New World they left

their foes behind them and hence have a great advantage over the

true American weeds who are beset by countless natural enemies

who serve to keep them partly under control.

One of the most insidious of these undesirable aliens is the wild

carrot, or Queen Anne's lace. Like the majority of our foreign

weeds, it was a stowaway and entered the country by sneaking

past the Customs and the Immigration officials in the form of

seeds hiding among those of desirable plants. But once on

American soil it spread like magic, relentlessly crowding out

every plant that stood in its way, taking possession of fields and

pastures, and traveling north, south, east, and west. Many of our

states passed laws providing penalties for farmers and others who

permitted the



wild carrots to grow on their properties. But the authorities might

just as well have tried to penalize the husbandmen for permitting

swallows to wing their way across the farmlands. To destroy

these weeds was as hopeless an undertaking as to push back the

sea or to carry water in a sieve. The weed grew and spread faster

than it could be destroyed, and to-day one sees broad fields white

with the lacelike flowers of this alien plant criminal, utterly

ruined and abandoned, worthless even as pasturage, for the wild

carrot is poisonous to cattle. Almost as abundant as the Queen

Anne's lace, and one of the first plant-outlaws to stowaway and

reach America by stealth is the common white or ox-eye daisy,

known in England as the marguerite. In its own borne on the

other side of the Atlantic the plant is not much of a nuisance, for

it has countless natural enemies who serve as police to keep it

under control to a reasonable extent. But it is almost free from

insect enemies in our country and has spread far and wide. In a

way it is a true paradox, for while it is a bad weed and plays

havoc with pastures and fields, it is such a pretty cheery flower

that every one loves it. Our summer landscapes would seem dull

and bare indeed were it not for the fields of daisies, and if by

some miracle this alien weed were completely exterminated it

would be a sad loss to the public at large, even if a blessing to the

farmers.

Another immigrant from Europe is the chicory. But this alien can

scarcely be classed among the plant public enemies or criminals,

for it is rather a harmless sort of vagabond, a plant-hobo which

prefers the open road to fields and gardens. Typically a tramp

with its ragged, dust-covered leaves, its half-starved,

ill-nourished



appearance, the chicory is a happy-go-lucky bum and to offset its

unattractive foliage adds a note of beauty to the by-ways with its

handsome sky-blue flowers. Moreover, it is one of the useful

weeds, for its root is edible and nourishing although it is more

familiar as an adulterant of coffee than as food-plant.

Chicory, however, is not the only common weed which is edible,

although comparatively few persons are aware of the fact. The

thick fleshy roots of the common burdock are excellent and are

highly esteemed in Japan. Tender young shoots of the milkweeds

are fully equal to asparagus. Young shoots of the common nettle

are also excellent. Purslane and pigweed greens are as good as

spinach and, of course, dandelion greens are famous. The

marsh-mariqolds or cowslips are another source of "greens,"

while the so-called Jerusalem artichokes or sunroots are the

tubers of a wild sunflower.

The flowers of milkweed, gathered in the early morning

when still damp with dew, bruised and boiled, yield a sweet

syrup with a fine flavor. The roots of the bull brier are used as a

basis for root-beer in many sections of the country. When dried

and ground into meal they may be used in combination with

cornmeal for hot

cakes. The chipped roots of the more southerly china brier or

coontie are a favorite article of food among the Indians. Mixed

with water they form a red sediment which is strained and dried.

This is used like flour and when mixed with warm water and

honey it forms a beautiful jelly.



Many weed-seeds may be used as meal or cereals, one of the best

being the seeds of the common pigweed, while the Indians

consume quantities of coarse flour

made from the seeds of wild oats, squaw-grass, and sand-grass

which is the stand-by of the Zunis and is known as "Indian

millet." The wild leeks and wild onions, which sometimes

become bad weeds, are all edible, as are the bulbs of many other

members of the lily family which are weeds in certain sections.

The Indian potato or sego lily of our western states is a weed in

many places, although in the east it is prized for its handsome

flowers and is known as the Mariposa tulip. The bulbs are

excellent eating, as are the roots of the wild sego. This is the state

flower of Utah and its tubers formed the first diet of the

Mormons when they reached the vicinity of Great Salt Lake. The

roots, roasted in ashes or steamed, are fine-flavored and

nutritious. The same is true of the roots of the wild California

hyacinth, while the roots of the camas or quamash are fully equal

to potatoes when boiled, roasted or steamed.

One of the most abundant weeds of the west is the mesquite

which bears beans which are highly nutritious and are used as

meal by the Indians, while the goat nut, known also as sheep-nut

and jojoba, of California, has nuts which are not only edible but

contain an oil which is credited with being a marvelous hair

grower, especially for the eyebrows. Then there is the weed

known as chocolate root or Indian chocolate which

really should be included among the Magic Plants (see

Chapter XIII), for the Indians believe that those who

cut the root or drink the beverage made from it, are able to

converse in whispers with others many miles away.



Even if we do not expect to dine on weeds, and are perfectly

satisfied with our more familiar vegetable foods, it is a good plan to bear in mind which weeds and wild

plants are edible in case of necessity. A knowledge of edible wild

plants has saved many a man from starvation when lost in the

woods or on deserts or cast away on some remote island. When

John Colter of the Lewis and Clark Expedition escaped from the

Blackfeet Indians by whom he had been captured, he would have

starved to death had he not known of the Indian bread-root plant

which was his only food for more than a week.

I have mentioned only a few of the better known and commoner

weeds which may be used as food, and there are many others,

some of which are widely distributed while others are quite local.

In fact a book might be written on the subject of edible wild

plants of our country if it were not confined to those which may

be classed as weeds or plant-enemies, for our woods, fields,

swamps, and prairies are filled with plants which will serve to

sustain human life and many of which are fully equal or superior

to some of our most popular everyday vegetable foods.

As I have already said, nearly all types of criminals are to be

found among the army of plant public enemies. There are even

kidnappers, and just as some human kidnappers hold their

victims for ransom and release them when the ransom has been

paid, while others murder their victims, so among the plant

kidnappers we find those who eventually allow their victims to

depart unharmed, while others destroy them.

But in one respect these plant-kidnappers are far less despicable

than their human prototypes, for their



lives depend upon kidnapping and were they to reform and

abandon their criminal careers their species would soon vanish

from the face of the earth. Some kidnap insects in order to force

these creatures to pollinate or fertilize the flowers, while others

require more animal matter than they can secure from the soil,

and having kidnapped an insect they absorb its life-giving

chemicals.

One of the commonest of plant-kidnappers is the aristolochia

vine or Dutchman's pipe so widely used as a shade vine to cover

our porches. When a bee or other insect enters the pipe-shaped

flower of this vine it little dreams that it is walking into a most

wonderfully designed trap and will be doomed to remain a

prisoner until the plant sees fit to release him. As the insect

crawls down the tubular flower, attracted by the sweet nectar

below, he pays no attention to the countless stiff hairs that,

bending inward, form no obstruction to his passage. But when,

having dined, he prepares to leave, it is a very different matter,

for the hairs over which he passed with no trouble now present a

barrier of daggerlike points barring his way more effectually than

a barbed-wire fence. He may buzz and fume, but there he must

remain a prisoner until the pollen has ripened and he has dusted

himself thoroughly with the golden powder. Then at last the stiff,

sharp hairs wither, and the angry bee goes forth to blunder into

another flower and fertilize it with the pollen he has accumulated.

Perhaps it seems strange that the bees do not learn by experience

to avoid these tricky flowers. But after all, why should they?

They may be involuntary captives for a few days, but they are

unharmed and there is an



abundance of food in the shape of nectar to be had for the eating.

Some of the milkweed plants have a very different method of

kidnapping insects in order to hold them until the flowers have

been fertilized. These plants seize the insects in their powerful

jawlike anthers, but release the creatures unharmed when

fertilization is assured. Sometimes plants discriminate and kidnap

or imprison, or for that matter arrest, try, condemn and execute,

rascally insects which come to rob them.

The common catchfly or fire-pink is one of these. Its gorgeous

scarlet flowers attract hosts of insects, but it desires only those

who will serve to fertilize its blossoms, and to protect these from

marauders such as honey loving ants who crawl up plant-stems,

the fire-pink covers its flower-stalks with a sticky fly-paperlike

compound which holds the ants helpless until they perish. The

starry campion, which is another member of the pink family,

accomplishes the same results in a different manner. To protect

the honey drops within the tubes of its white flowers, this plant

spreads a sticky trap on its calyxes and pedicels, and no crawling

insect ever succeeds in passing these "no trespass" areas. One of

the worst of plant-kidnappers is our old friend,

Jack-in-the-pulpit. Moreover, Master Jack is one of those

despicable kidnappers who not only lures his victims into his

clutches but relentlessly puts them to death. Examine the interior

of one of these woodland flowers and you will find the lining is

very smooth and slippery. Any insect that attempts to crawl

within the pulpit and sets foot on this precipitous slide is lost, for

down it goes to the bottom of the pitfall. Yet other



insects that come buzzing to the flower spathe of "Jack" have no

difficulty in leaving when they choose. At the bottom of any

flower of this plant you will find the dead bodies of many of

Jack's victims, but not digested as are the bodies of insects

captured by the carnivorous pitcher-plants, sundews, and other

insect-eaters, for the Jack-in-the-pulpit merely absorbs the

chemicals of the decomposing corpses of its victims. Perhaps, in

days to come, our friend Jack may become a truly carnivorous

plant.

Undoubtedly that happened with the true insect catching forms

whose ancestors were in all probability quite satisfied with food

they obtained from the soil and the air. To-day we may see the

same transition taking place in various plants other than the

Jack-in-the-pulpit. One of these is the common teazel or gypsy

combs which is oftentimes a bad weed but was formerly a useful

plant, for its spiny seed-coverings were used for carding wool in

the days of hand-looms. The teazel is only beginning to learn to

catch or kidnap insects, for you may examine a number of the

plants before you come upon a kidnapper. You will recognize it

at once, for you will notice that the lower portion of some of the

leaves high on the stalk have drawn themselves together to form

little tanks filled with water, and the chances are that these little

death-pools will contain the dead bodies of numerous insects.

Like the Jack-in-the-pulpit, the teazel merely absorbs the juices

or chemicals of the insects which are extracted by the water as

the bodies decompose. But unlike Master Jack, the teazel cannot

claim the latter's excuse for its kidnapping by arguing that it does

so to protect its flowers.



It has merely acquired a taste for animal food and in ages to

come, its leaves may develop into traps as cleverly designed for

capturing insects as are those of the sundew or Venus's fly-trap.

Many plants smother or strangle their victims, and very often

these murderous criminals of the plant-world are very lovely

things and appear innocent and harmless. The goldenrods and

asters, the milkweeds, and daisies, the ragweeds, burdocks, and

common docks, depend upon smothering their weaker neighbors

by shutting off the sunlight and taking possession of the soil. But

the bindweed, with its pretty pink flowers, the cat-briers, the

spiny wild cucumbers, the wild peas and many other

plant-outlaws are stranglers and vicious thugs who murder their

victims by twining their ropelike stems about stalks and leaves.

Even worse than these, and the most insidious of all

plant-criminals, are the vampires who fatten themselves upon

other plants, and secure their nourishment by sucking the life

-blood of their victims. Like the feminine "vampires" of fiction

and the movies, these plant-parasites are often very beautiful.

Nothing about their outward appearance would arouse the least

suspicion as to their true characters, and many display gorgeous

flowers. Such is the painted cup' of our meadows, although in the

case of this parasite that feeds on roots of other plants, the scarlet

tip responsible for its common name, is not the true flower, but

the leaves or bracts surrounding the cluster of small yellowish

blossoms. In this respect it is similar to the poinsettia which also

flaunts gaudy leaves of scarlet or crimson, like an aureole about

its inconspicuous flowers.



Far worse than these vampires, and a murderous strangler as well

as a blood-sucker, is the common dodder. Like the majority of

parasitic plants, the dodder has no chlorophyl in its system and

hence cannot secure nutriment from air and soil, and is compelled

by Nature to suck the blood of other plants. Yet in infancy the

dodder is innocent enough and sprouts from the soil in the

manner of ordinary plants. But no sooner does its yellow

snakelike stalk touch another plant than it sends out suckers and

begins its nefarious career. As soon as it has secured a firm grasp

on its neighbors it withers away and breaks off near the earth,

and thereafter crawls, twists, writhes, and wanders over the tops

of other plants, binding them together, holding them fast in its

suckers, and subsisting on their sap. Although the devil's thread,

as it is often called, has no leaves, but merely a slender yellow

stem, yet it bears clusters of little bell-shaped white flowers.

Once the dodder secures a good start it is practically impossible

to check it. Its writhing, yellow stems may be twenty feet or more

in length, and as the seeds ripen and fall and new plants spring up

and take to the aerial parasitic life, they soon conquer everything

within reach of their deadly suckers. In our southern states, as

well as in the Bahama Islands and elsewhere in warm countries,

it is not unusual to see acres of brush or weeds or even cultivated

plants completely hidden under the mat of tangled, twisted,

yellow cords of the devil's thread. Who would ever suspect that

this snaky, strangling vampire was a first cousin of the lordly

cypress trees of our southern swamps?

Very different from the flamboyant plant-parasites



with their gaudy flowers, are the sickly-looking vampires which

have the appearance of drug addicts. Some are almost colorless

and are ghostly, goulish things, while others, such as the

Indian-pipe and beech-drops, are very attractive in a bizarre sort

of way and are delicately tinted with pink and pale orange.

These parasites scarcely can be considered weeds, for they keep

under cover and hide away in woodland and forests where they

draw sustenance from the roots of the various trees. The same is

true of the parasitic fungi, the mushrooms, and so-called

"toadstools," for even if some species do disfigure our lawns and

shade trees they rarely become a menace.

Many persons think of the orchid and air-plants as parasites, but

strictly speaking this is not the case, and if charged with the

crime of being vampires they could plead "not guilty" with

perfect truth. As a matter of fact, they are merely squatters or

perhaps better, "moochers," who take up their abodes on other

plants, yet draw their sustenance from the air and from the

decaying vegetable matter and debris about their roots, without

attempting to harm their involuntary hosts. In fact they thrive just

as well on a section of a dead limb or a piece of bark as on a

living tree, while many of them are as much at home on lifeless

rocks, the roofs of buildings or on telegraph wires as on other

plants.

Many orchids also kidnap insects and hold them prisoners until

the flowers have been thoroughly fertilized. Even the familiar

gray Spanish moss which, drapes the trees of our southern states

will thrive on lifeless objects, and the injuries it inflicts upon

trees are caused by the plant stifling or smothering the branches



with its dense masses and countless clinging adhesive roots,

rather than to vampirish habits. Also, it is interesting to note that

this picturesque plant is not a moss but is a member of the

bromeliad family and is a first cousin of the luscious pineapple.

But it should not be confused with the somewhat similar old

man's beard which drapes cedars and other trees in our northern

forests and swamps. This is a very different sort of plant and is a

member of the lichen family and its correct name is usnea.

While we are on the subject of plant-vampires and plant-parasites

we must not forget the parasitic giants of tropical lands-the lianas

and the wild fig-trees. Not only do these strange plants attach

themselves to other plants but pitilessly strangle the trees which

have afforded them homes and a livelihood. We may quite

fittingly compare the writhing, twisting lianas to giant serpents,

and the fig-trees to loathsome octopi. And woe to the tree

encircled by the coils of a huge liana or seized in the woody

tentacles of the fig-tree, which by the way is not a tree that bears

the edible fruits, but one of the rubber trees.

Unlike true serpents and octopi, these constricting plant-giants

are devoid of intelligence, even if they do appear to act with

malice and forethought and to commit murder deliberately. No

boa constrictor, anaconda or other snake would ever make the

mistake of wrapping its coils about its own body and squeezing

itself to death, and no octopus would be so lacking in common

sense as to encircle itself with its tentacles and relentlessly

destroy its own body. Yet this is precisely what the lianas and the

fig-trees do. It is a very common



thing to find enormous lianas, great vines six or eight inches or

more in diameter, strangled to death by their own ropelike

branches or tendrils which have tightened their grip about the

parent stalk so tightly that they are buried almost out of sight in

the body whence they sprouted. Neither is it unusual to find a

dead or dying wild fig-tree that has committed suicide in this

way. These trees are very tenacious of life and the upper portions

will continue to grow long after the lower portions have been

completely killed. We might suppose that even a plant would

know enough to cease squeezing itself to death under such

conditions. But it doesn't.

A number of years ago when I was residing in Georgetown,

British Guiana, Professor Harrison, who was in charge of the

wonderful Botanic Station, called my attention to a wild fig-tree

that was slowly committing suicide. For years, he told me, he had

been watching the big tree fighting with itself. Slowly,

relentlessly the struggle of the tree to live and the struggle of its

tentacle like aerial roots to destroy their parent had been

progressing beneath the eyes of the naturalist who was deeply

interested-I might say fascinated by the weird battle between two

portions of a single plant. When I first saw the tree many of its

upper branches were healthy and covered with leaves, but the

lower portion of the trunk and the maze of huge intertwined roots

were dead and partly decayed. It was a truly remarkable

experience to watch -this strange struggle as it proceeded day by

day. As if the living top of the tree were aware of its peril it

would send aerial roots from its branches, and these descending



would grasp the larger strangling roots and endeavor to choke

these in turn. But it was a hopeless battle. The older larger roots

always won. Little by little the signs of life decreased and at the

end of two years the suicidal tree was a bare dead skeleton, a

victim of its own deadly habits, its lifeless roots still clinging to

the body of the victim it had destroyed in order to live.



Chapter XVII

WONDER PLANTS OF COMMERCE AND

INDUSTRY

ONE of the most wonderful features of plants is the important

part they play in our commerce and industries, as well as in our

daily lives.

This book, for example, would not be possible were it not for

plants. Even if the paper upon which it is printed had been made

from old rags it would still be a plant product, for the rags used

would have been cotton or linen cloth made from plant fibers.

The same plants have supplied the thread with which the leaves

have been stitched together. The ink used in printing was made of

carbon which came from burning wood, and the glue and paste

used in making the cardboard covers and attaching the binding to

the leaves were probably manufactured from gums or juices of

plants, perhaps even from the stalks of maize. And even if the

adhesives were wholly or partly animal glue, they would not

have been possible without plants which provided food for the

creatures whose hoofs, horns, and hides supplied the glue.

Until one gives serious thought to the matter and looks about at

the innumerable things upon which we depend, one does not

realize the extent to which we employ plants to supply both the

necessities and luxuries of life. It is not even necessary to trace

back


various substances and materials to their original plant sources,

or to argue that by doing so all animal life is dependent upon

plants. So let us confine ourselves to materials obtained directly

from plants.

Among the most important and valuable plants of commerce and

industry are those which supply us with fibers. Moreover, there is

a vast number of these fiber producing plants, some of which are

very familar to every one and serve us every-where every day.

Others are strange to most persons, even though their fibers are

commonly used, while others are seldom used except by the

natives of the lands where they occur. Yet some of these little

known fiber-plants are superior to many of our own and deserve

to be much more widely used than they are.

Probably the most familiar of all plant fibers is linen which is

made from the leaf and stem fibers of the flax plant, and cotton

from the seed-coverings of the cotton plant. Next in importance

in our everyday life are hemp, Manilla, jute, and sisal. An entire

volume might

Flax (1/2)




he written about these alone, and a very romantic and interesting

story it would be, for these four fibers come from widely

separated parts of the world and are grown and gathered by

strange races amid strange surroundings.

Hemp, as I have already mentioned (see Chapter XIV), is

obtained from the hemp plant which is a native of India and its

vicinity. Manilla or Manilla hemp, which is the source of the best

cordage and ropes, especially for use on shipboard, is obtained

from a very different plant, a variety of the banana which is a

native of the Philippines and the East Indies. Jute is another

Oriental fiber derived from an East Indian annual plant with tall

stalks and yellow flowers. Although one of the most important

and valuable of fibers it is not very strong and hence is not

suitable for high grade cordage. But it is fine, silky, easily woven

and serves a multitude of purposes. Great quantities are used in

making sunny sacks or burlap bags. Immense amounts in the

form of "tow" are employed for caulking the seams of vessels,

for making coarse and cheap papers, for fiber carpets, rugs,

seat-covers, curtains, draperies, and "art" fabrics, while the finer

grades are used in place of hair on wigs for actors. For the world

at large, jute is a blessing, but to many a poor devil in prison it is

a terrible curse, for "picking tow" is the principal task allotted the

convicts in many penal institutions, especially in England.

Sisal comes mainly from Mexico, Central and South America,

the West Indies, Hawaii, and South Africa. This well-known

fiber is obtained from the leaves of the hennequin, a species of

agave or "century plant" which


Hennequin

(greatly reduced) is a native of Mexico and Yucatan. Although the hennequin had

been cultivated and the sisal fiber had been used by the Indians

for countless centuries, yet it was not until comparatively

recently that it came into general use by the white races. It is a

rather coarse fiber, harsh and somewhat brittle, and much inferior

to hemp

or Manilla for cordage, especially when wet. But some one

discovered that it was the best of all fibers for bindertwine used

for tying sheaves of grain, and instantly sisal became one of the,

world's most important and valuable fibers. Where only a few of

the stiff-leaved hennequin plants had been cultivated by the

native farmers, vast plantations sprang into existence. The crop

increased from a few hundred to tens of thousands of tons of sisal

yearly. Railways were built to transport the countless bales of

fiber from the inland Plantations to the seacoast. Tiny towns that

had been forgotten by the world became transformed to busy




important seaports. Where only an occasional sailing vessel or

coasting steamer had been moored beside ramshackle wharves,

scores of great wall-sided iron freight steamships lay alongside

concrete and steel docks. Planters who had found it hard to make

both ends meet became millionaires, stupendous sums were

invested in planting more and more land with hennequin and in

erecting mills and factories for manufacturing sisal twine and

other products, and from Yucatan the hennequin industry spread

to Hawaii, the West Indies, South America, Egypt and the Orient.

Probably no other plant of industry and commerce has had such a

meteoric career or has risen so rapidly in importance and value as

the hennequin or sisal.

Another very important fiber known to the trade as coir is made

from the outer husks of the cocoanut. In the Pacific Islands and

many other tropical lands, coir or cocoanut fiber is used for

ropes, twine, and other cordage, but to us it is most familiar in the

form of door-mats and coarse heavy carpeting.

Then there is the ramie fiber prepared from the inner bark of an

Oriental nettle known as the grass-cloth plant.

Perhaps it seems strange that a strong, fine silky fiber used in

textile manufacture should be obtained from a nettle plant. But all

these stinging weeds possess a fibrous inner bark. Our American

Indians wove fine and beautiful fabrics from the fibers of our

common nettles, and even used the fibers for making their

bowstrings, for nettle fiber is almost as strong as flax. Nettles,

however are not the only common wild plants and weeds which

supply strong and useful fibers.



Milkweed fiber was widely used by the Indians, as was the fiber

of bulrushes or cattails, wild peas, cedar bark and yucca or

"Spanish bayonet" plants. Even the common eel-grass which

grows in shallow water along our coast yields a splendid fiber

which is used extensively in making certain kinds of cloth and

toweling.

In the Philippines and the East Indies the natives weave beautiful

fine silky cloth from the fibers of pineapple leaves, which is also

used to some extent in our textile mills, while in other Oriental

countries mulberry fiber is an important product. The

well-known raffia fiber used in art work and for making baskets

and hand-bags, is the fibrous bark of a palm-tree, while another

palm-tree supplies the strong, pliable material used in weaving

the famous Panama hats.

At one time the pita-hemp fiber of South America was one of the

most valuable of all, but for some reason. probably because it

was more expensive than Manilla or other fibers, it almost

disappeared. To-day pita-hemp plantations are being established

in various tropical countries and the fiber is again in demand. But

by far the strongest and finest of all fibers have never come into

general use and the plants from which they are obtained have

never been cultivated except on a small scale by the natives. One

of these is the snakedagger, a West Indian plant with long,

sword-shaped, stiff, fleshy leaves curiously mottled with

pale-green and white. It is often grown as a house plant because

of its marbled leaves, some of the cultivated varieties being

handsomely variegated with brilliant yellow. Throughout the

West Indies and elsewhere in the


tropics, this plant is an abundant weed and grows luxuriantly on

old stone walls, about ruined buildings and beside the roadways.

When fully grown the leaves are frequently five feet in length

and are filled with long, soft silken fibers of great strength.

Quantities of

Snake-dagger plant( 1/12 ) this fiber are used by the natives, but it has never become of

commercial importance.

An even superior fiber is that of the so-called silk grass or arrow

grass of South America, which is a plant related to the cannas of

our gardens. Unlike the agaves which thrive only in the blazing

sunshine in dry soils, this plant grows only in the deep shadows

of the forests where the earth is saturated with moisture. The




fiber, obtained from the fleshy stalks, is finer than silk, stronger

than the best flax, and is from five to eight feet in length. To the

native Indians of the jungles it is a most important plant, for its

strong soft, fine fibers serve as fishing-lines, bowstrings, cords,

and twine. They are also used for securing the heads and feathers

to the arrows, hence the common name, and are woven into nets,

bags, and textiles.

Even more important in some ways than are the fiber plants used

for cordage and textiles, are those which make it possible for us

to publish books, print newspapers, or write letters. Without

paper we would be sadly handicapped indeed. Imagine what a

task it would be to write a novel such as Anthony Adverse on clay

tablets or to compile a dictionary by inscribing the letters on

stone. And think of the size of the library that would be needed to

house thousands upon thousands of clay or stone or even metal

volumes. For that matter, try to visualize the occupants of a

crowded subway train all carrying morning papers of baked clay

or made of metal sheets. And how could our post-offices ever

hope to handle millions of letters written on bricks?

What a vast relief it must have been to the people who first

discovered paper to be able to scrap their clay and stone writings

once and forever.

No one really knows what race was the first to make that epochal

discovery, for paper of some sort or another was used by several

races in widely separated parts of the world in very remote times.

The ancient Egyptians used excellent paper made from the

papyrus plant and from the lotus. The Chinese, thousands of



years ago, used paper made of rice straw, and in the New World

the Aztecs and Mayas had been using splendid parchment like

paper made from the agave or maguey plants for untold centuries

before the arrival of the Spaniards.

Moreover, the Aztecs and Mayas, as well as the Chinese and the

Egyptians, had learned to write, or at least to record events, ideas,

and other matters on their paper, and had large books or codices

which were kept in regular libraries. Unlike our books, these

Indian volumes consisted of sheets pasted together to form long

strips which were folded back and forth much in the manner of a

modern motor-highway map. On the other hand, the Egyptians

rolled their manuscripts on wooden holders, while the Chinese

made books very similar to our own. Although, as I have said,

these ancient races had learned to write on paper they had not

discovered how to simplify matters by using letters instead of

pictures to express words, for the so-called Chinese letters are

really characters made up of highly conventionalized pictures.

But if the Spaniards had not arrived to destroy the Aztec

civilization the Mexicans would soon have possessed a true

written language, for at the time of the conquest they had already

begun to substitute ideographs and symbols of sounds for the

pictographs on their codices. Surely if spirits are capable of

emotions, those of the old Aztec and Maya scribes must have felt

greatly pleased and elated when the Mexican Government

recently decreed that henceforth all Mexican legal and official



documents must be written and printed on paper made of maguey

fiber, thus

perpetuating the memory of the Aztec paper makers and their

codices.

To-day a vast number of plants are employed in making paper.

Bamboo, banana leaves, palm fibers, seaweeds, cotton, hemp,

jute, Manilla, reeds, mulberry, bulrushes, straw and countless

other fiber-plants are ground to pulp and passed between massive

rollers to come forth as sheets of paper. But by far the greatest

quantity of paper is made from forest trees. Spruce, poplar, fir,

cedar, and many other woods may be used for paper-making, but

the best of all "pulp" trees, especially for the cheap newspaper

stock, are the spruces. Whole forests have been leveled to supply

our people with their daily papers, and few persons have any

conception of the almost incredible quantities of pulp wood that

are consumed in this way.

Merely to supply the paper for a single edition of one of the big

New York newspapers necessitates the complete annihilation of

eighty acres of forest. Multiply that by the number of similar

papers of the metropolis, and multiply the result by 365 and we

will get some vague idea of the almost inconceivable numbers of

trees which are annually felled and converted into paper-pulp. I

say "vague" idea, for big as they are, the papers published in New

York City are only a very small fraction of the total number of

papers published daily throughout our country. More than

14,000,000 cords of wood are required to supply the paper needs


of the United States annually. The United States and Canadian

newspapers print annually enough paper to encircle the world

with a belt fifty miles wide. If this paper was in the form of the

standard roll with a width

of 73 inches, it would be 13,000,000 miles in length. Moreover,

vast quantities of trees are used in making cardboard, various

composition substitutes for lumber and for crates, boxes, and

other purposes, while whole forests are felled to supply the tens

of thousands of cords of wood needed to manufacture

matchsticks.

Sumac, leaves and fruit

Considering all this we can surely class our fiber- plants as plant

wonders.

But even when the fiber-plants have supplied us with cloth for

our garments and fabrics for our homes, they would be drab and




monotonous unless colored, and to give them various tints we

again turn to the plants for help.

As I have said, mineral and chemical dyes have taken the places

of many plant-dyes, yet there are certain

dye-plants which are still in demand, and which have never yet

been replaced by artificial substitutes.

Although the use of indigo has decreased until very little of the

once important dye-plant is cultivated, yet no one has ever

discovered an artificial indigo that can equal that of the plant for

color and fadeless quality. Fustic from the big forest trees of

South and Central America is still used in enormous quantities,

for it is the best and most durable of khaki dyes. Gamboge, the

gum of East Indian trees, is extensively used, both as a dye and a

pigment, for no other yellow has the same brilliant transparent

color. Another dye or pigment which is of great commercial and

industrial importance is the so-called "dragon's-blood" which is

made from the sap of various trees found in the East and West

Indies, tropical America, and the Pacific Islands. When we use

butter or eat Chili con carne as well as other foods, we swallow a

dye made from the seed-coverings of a tropical American tree.

This is the anotto or achiote, and as the orange-red dye or

pigment is harmless and even contains a certain amount of

nutriment, it is perfectly adapted to coloring foods. In its raw

state it is a vivid red and is used by the Indians for painting their

faces and bodies, but when diluted it imparts a deep yellow color.

Its principal use is for coloring butter, hence it has become



generally known under the trade name of "butter color." For

staining leather and wood and for dyes of certain shades there is

nothing to equal the red sanders and Brazil woods which are the

chipped woods of jungle trees of South America and the Orient,

while hundreds of thousands of tons of logwood are still used

every year.

Formerly our own native trees supplied many world famous dyes.

Butternut-brown was widely used and became famous as the

color of the uniforms of the Confederate soldiers during our Civil

War. But to-day it has no real commercial value, and the same is

true of our yellow or quercitron oak which furnishes a wonderful

yellow dye. At one time hundreds of tons of the chipped oak bark

were exported to Europe, but to-day its use as a dye has been

almost forgotten.

Oddly enough although nearly every color of the rainbow may be

obtained by the use of plant-dyes, and in many instances red,

yellow and blue dyes may be made from the same plant, yet there

is no known species of plant which bears both red, yellow, and

blue flowers. By that I do not mean an individual plant, but the

entire species including its several color varieties. We have red

and yellow roses but nobody ever saw a blue rose. Blue and

yellow violets are both common but a red violet is unknown.

There are zinnias with flowers of every imaginable shade of red

and yellow, but no horticulturist has ever been able to produce a

really blue zinnia. Probably the columbines and the pansies come

the nearest to being exceptions to the rule, for there are so-called

red columbines as well as blue and yellowish varieties, but the

red flowers are not actually red nor are the blue blossoms a true



blue, but rather a purple or lavender. It is the same with the

pansies, there are true blue and true yellow pansies but the

nearest approach to red is a reddish-purple or orange yellow. Just

why this should be so no one knows. It is just another of the

wonders of wonderful plants.

Even when plants have supplied us with wood for

our houses and furniture and fabrics for our garments, our

carpets, our draperies and the upholstery on our chairs and

couches, and other plants have yielded the stains, dyes, and

pigments with which to color them, we still need oils, varnish,

and wax with which to finish the woodwork. And when it comes

to these important and essential substances we are compelled to

rely on plants to supply them. There is no substitute for

linseed-oil except other vegetable oils. No one has been able to

manufacture a synthetic varnish to compare with those made

from copal, couri, or other plant gums and saps. Turpentine and

resin from pine trees still hold their own against all competitors

made from petroleum or other chemicals, while tung oil is the

basis of all our finest quick-drying lacquers, enamels, and

varnishes.

It is the same with the various kinds of vegetable wax. Who

wouldn't prefer a bayberry wax candle made from the aromatic

berries of the seaside bayberry bush to a paraffin or tallow

candle? What would scientists do without oil of cloves for use in

microscopy and Canada balsam from the fir trees for mounting

their slides and cementing the lenses of their instruments?

Palm-oil and palm-wax have never given way to synthetic

products of the laboratory. And finally there is the oil from the



castor-bean plant. No doubt many a youngster wishes the

broad-leafed tropical plant had never been discovered, but the

thick white oil from the plants' mottled seeds has many other uses

besides that of medicine and possesses properties unlike those of

any other oil. It never thickens, no matter how cold it may be; it

never becomes thin even under the terrific heat of

high-speed motors when used as a lubricant, in which respect it

exceeds all other oils, and it is practically non-inflammable. But

it has one important use which few persons suspect, for it is

castor oil that makes sticky fly-paper remain sticky and prevents

the combination of resin and gum from drying up.

To the ladies there are many plants which are of tremendous

importance, for they supply the feminine population of the world

with scents and perfumes, hair tonics and washes, face powders

and toilet soaps, creams and other aids to beauty-even with their

lip-sticks and eyebrow pencils, and mascara. Quite aside from the

innumerable flowers used in manufacturing perfumery there are

many other plants vital to the industry. The leaves of the West

Indian bay-trees supply bay-oil from which bay-rum is made.

The seed of a South American tree, soaked in rum and dried is

the tonka bean which imparts such a delightful odor to garments

when placed in a drawer or chest with them. Orris, so widely

used for sachets, to impart a delicate odor to face and

tooth-powders and many similar purposes, is the pulverized roots

of an iris or fleur-de-lis plant. Lavender and sandalwood are both

well-known plant perfumes, while the West Indian rose-apple

seeds give out a rich enduring odor fully equal to perfumes made

of attar of roses. Myrrh, which is used to impart a pleasant



aromatic taste to mouth-washes, is the gum of an Arabian shrub,

while frankincense is made from the gum of an Oriental tree of

the same name.

To us, all of these plants have pleasing odors, but tastes in scents

and perfumes differ as much as tastes

in food and drink and people of other lands often prefer odors

which we would find most unpleasant. In Ethiopia, the people

think the odor of the mouse-plant is the most delightful and

alluring of perfumes, and the dusky ladies are never really happy

unless they smell like much-used mouse-traps. It may seem

strange indeed for human beings to like the odor of the little

rodents, but it is far more amazing that any people should desire

the taste of mice in their food. Yet in China there is a variety of

rice which tastes and smells like mice and is considered the most

desirable of all rice by the Chinese.

On one occasion when I was visiting a tribe of primitive Indians

in the South American jungles, the women and girls gathered

about my camp-fire chatting and sniffing the air as Sam, my

black camp-boy, prepared my dinner. Presently, having peeled

and sliced an onion, he tossed aside the waste. Instantly there was

a wild scramble among the brown-skinned belles followed by

squeals of delight as the lucky ones smeared the fragments of

odorous bulbs over their faces and naked bodies. That gave me

an idea. I was short of trade goods, especially beads and knives,

and had been unable to secure many of the ornaments and other

ethnologic specimens I desired for my collections. But the

women's fondness for onion perfume solved the problem, and for



the next thirty minutes or so I did a rushing business doling out

sections of onions in exchange for weapons and implements,

musical instruments and feather work, bead aprons and jaguar

teeth necklaces. But our stock of the bulbs was soon exhausted

and there were still many objects I wished to acquire, while



many of the Indians were still minus a supply of the perfume they

so greatly desired.

"Can't you dig up any more onions, Sam?'' I asked while the

Indians stood about laden with possessions they wished to trade.

"Perhaps some got into the potato bag by accident."

The Negro dumped out the contents of bags and boxes and

searched diligently. "No, sir, Chief," he replied at last. "Ah 'spec'

they complete finish. But Ah come 'pon little garlic, Chief, an'

they sure do smell a-plenty."

The little bulbs certainly did "smell a-plenty" and how those

Indians did clamor for them! To them the odor of garlic

compared to that of onions was as delightful and desirable as

attar of roses compared to the cheapest rose-water would be to

any white woman. They were willing and anxious to exchange

anything or everything they owned for a mere fragment of garlic,

and had I possessed a few pounds of the bulbs I could easily have

purchased the entire village with all it contained-including the

entire feminine population-had I so desired. Taking all things into

consideration, perhaps it was just as well that our supply of garlic

was so very limited.

It may seem astonishing that Indian women should have been so

fascinated by the odor of onions that they were perfectly willing

to give anything and everything they owned for a fragment of

garlic. But after all is it any more remarkable or

incomprehensible than the fact that many a well-to-do white

woman of our own race will willingly pay twenty-five dollars or

even more for a tiny phial of some new or stylish perfume which,



together with the ornamental container and velvet or satin box,

may possibly have cost the manufacturer a dollar or two?

Moreover, we must bear in mind that the original and primary

reason for using perfumery was to conceal the odor of the body.

Surely for this purpose garlic and onions are far superior to the

most delicate and costly perfumes ever concocted in the

laboratories of Grasse.

Almost if not fully as strange as the Indians' garlic odor complex

is the custom of the women of certain African tribes to chew the

Kilakilolo wood. The resinous, volatile oil in the wood permeates

the entire body and exudes from the pores of the skin, causing the

women to reek with the odor of cedar.

There are few persons who will not agree that the scent of cedar

is preferable to the odor of garlic. In fact, if taken in reasonable

doses, the odor of cedar is very agreeable and delightful,

although it is most repugnant or even fatal to certain insects,

hence the use of cedar-chests to protect woolen fabrics from

moths. But enough is enough, and who wants to smell like a

cedar-chest anyway? Yet, come to think of it, these African

belles may have hit upon a really good thing. Perhaps by

transforming themselves to living cedar' chests they keep

pestiferous insects at a respectful distance.



Chapter XVIII

THE FIRST OF ALL CALENDARS

No one knows what race was the first to invent a calendar or to

divide time into years, months and days or days into hours, for

many very ancient races in various parts of the world possessed

excellent and accurate calendrical systems thousands of years

ago. Our own calendar is fairly recent, for it dates only from

1582 when the old calendar was revised by Pope Gregory. But

ages before then the Mayas had devised a calendar even more

accurate than our own, the Aztecs had a very exact calendar, and

the Incans and pre Incans of Peru had an equally good system of

measuring time.

Yet all of these calendars devised by human beings, ancient as

they may be, were very modern and new compared to the

calendar which has been used by plants for millions of years.

It may not seem strange that plants should know and recognize

the seasons or that they should know the difference between day

and night or even between bright sunshine and cloudy weather.

But it is truly remarkable that many plants should be able to tell

the time almost as accurately as a clock or a watch. Yet many

plants do this and if you watch the plants in a garden and note the

time when certain plants open their flowers and the time when

others close, you will find



that they are seldom "slow" or "fast." In fact it is quite simple to

have a floral clock such as that devised by the great naturalist,

Linnaeus. Of course, the "time" as told by these flowers, will

vary according to the location, just as there is a difference in our

time in various places, and a plant, which in its customary

location opens at a certain hour, may be fooled and may open

earlier or later if grown farther north, south, east or west than

where it belongs. But once it gets the "hang" of its new

environment, it will vary only slightly in its time-keeping. Do not

expect your flower timepieces to adopt daylight-saving time

during the summer, for like the railways they keep to "standard"

time throughout the year.

If you are an early bird, and providing you live in the latitude of

our Central Atlantic states or southern New England, you will

find the dandelions waking up and opening their yellow eyes

almost on the stroke of four. An hour later the poppies, day-lilies,

and several other plants decide it is time to begin the day, and

between five and six o'clock the morning-glory flowers will

open. Promptly at seven the lettuce plants and African marigolds

unfold their blossoms. Various pinks think eight is early enough

and the lazy wild marigolds stay in bed until nine. Between nine

and ten dozens of plants decide that day has come at last, but the

star-of-Bethlehem waits until eleven, and the common ice-plant

doesn't tumble out of bed until high noon. By this time many of

the early risers are ready to call it a day and quit work. The

dandelions, hawkweeds, pinks and some of the thistles fold their

bright blankets and go to sleep between twelve and two o'clock,



although a few more wakeful and energetic individuals may

remain open for hours after their fellows. But by mid-afternoon

practically all of the early rising flowers have closed, while the

nasturtiums, clovers and various other plants retire for the night

about six o'clock. The day-lily doesn't become sleepy until an

hour or an hour and a half later, while the little chickweed is as

bright and wakeful as ever until nine or ten. But that does not

mean that all members of the plant community have gone to bed.

The lazy four-o'-clocks didn't appear on the scene until their

appointed hour. The evening primroses waited until sundown

before waking, while the jimson-weeds and moon-flowers, the

cereus and other cacti and a host of other plants are real

night-hawks and wait until after dark before blooming. Of

course, plants are not infallible as timekeepers. Even our railway

trains are often late, and human beings often oversleep, or retire

ahead of their customary hours. Moreover, the plants keep "sun

time" and may be deceived by dull or cloudy weather or by

unusually cold or unusually warm mornings or evenings. In the

autumn the morning-glory vines often wait until the sun is well

up before opening their flowers, which then remain open

throughout the greater part of the day. And on very dull dark

days or when the heavy black clouds of a thunderstorm turn

daylight into twilight, the primroses, jimson-weeds and others

frequently think the sun has set and open their flowers.

But on the whole they keep wonderfully good time and vary little

in their hours of opening and closing.

Every one knows that certain plants bloom at certain seasons of

the year. No one would expect to find



wood-anemones starring the woodlands in the autumn, nor

goldenrods and asters in blossom in April and May, and while

certain flowers may blossom from spring until frost, while others

may overlap or a few individuals may hang on long after their

fellows have gone to seed, the great majority abide quite strictly

by the calendar. But even if we all know the flowers we may

expect to find in spring, summer, and autumn or even during

certain months, how many of us realize that we can determine the

seasons by the colors of the wild flowers? Yet if we stop to

consider the matter we will find that certain colors predominate

at certain times of the year. In the early spring we have mostly

white or palecolored flowers-anemones, saxifrage, liverworts,

bloodroot, white daisies, spring beauties, wild

lilies-of-the-valley, azaleas, laurel, shade-trees and others. A little

later the blue and yellow flowers predominate and we have the

violets and gentians, the Robert daisies and forget-me-nots, and

the blue flags together with the soft pinks of wild geraniums, the

arbutus and moccasin flowers, and the golden buttercups and

cowslips and the wild pinks. As late spring emerges into summer

the wild flowers assume richer, more voluptuous hues. Fields

glow with the orange-yellow, rudbeckias or black-eyed Susans

and the flaming orange meadow lilies. Cardinal flowers gleam

like living coals beside woodland streams, poppies fairly blaze in

the hot sunshine, fireweed and butterfly-weeds flaunt their

intense colors, and scarlet painted cups and burnt orange devil's

paint brushes gleam in the meadows. Then as summer wanes, the

purple asters and the goldenrods drape the countryside in royal

robes, and we know winter will soon be here.



But even winter has its plant colors, for we all know that the

glossy green leaves and scarlet berries of the holly, and the soft

green of princess pine, are symbolical of the season of ice and

snow and Christmas cheer.

Not only do the plants maintain a calendar of their own, but they

record the events of their lives with greater accuracy than will be

found in our written histories. Human historians may err, they

may disagree as to important events and important dates, and

they are all too often biased and make little of certain incidents

and exaggerate others. But the plants never err, they record each

event as it occurs and do not rely upon others or upon hearsay

evidence, and they are absolutely impartial.

Every school-child knows that the age of a tree may be

determined by counting the rings of growth visible on a cross

section of the trunk. But the rings that tell us the tree's age do far

more than this, for they reveal a complete history of the major

events which have taken place during the life of the tree. Every

severe storm, each period of drought or floods, even unusually

severe winters or abnormally hot summers are indelibly recorded

by means of these records. Hence scientists or others who are

skilled in interpreting the tree's diary may unravel the entire

detailed story of its life and of the conditions of the locality

where it grew for hundreds, even thousands of years past.

By this means, too, scientists have been able to establish the age

of ancient ruins of cliff dwellings and pueblos in the southwest

and elsewhere. How do they accomplish this feat of seeming

legerdemain? Quite simply and easily. By carefully measuring

the rings of



a newly felled tree and making enlarged graphs of the variations

in growth indicating weather conditions recorded by the tree, and

by comparing these with the growth-rings on timbers from the

ancient ruins, they can link the two tree histories and so

determine just when the ancient timbers were cut. For example, if

a living tree is found with rings plainly recording a flood or a

drought eight hundred years ago, and if a section of an ancient

timber from the ruined village shows identical records, it is a

simple matter to count the rings indicating the years that the

ancient tree recorded between the time of the flood or drought

and the time it was cut. Thus if it is found that the timber was cut

two hundred years after the momentous event occurred, then we

may be certain that the Indians felled the tree to be used in their

building six hundred years ago.

But far more remarkable than the fact that trees are the most

accurate of all historians, and that by means of their records we

can determine just what weather and meteorological conditions

existed thousands of years ago, is the fact that some plants are

weather prophets. Moreover, there are certain plants that foretell

the weather so accurately that even meteorological experts in

weather bureaus find them most valuable assistants. This may

sound incredible, yet at the Kew Gardens near London, England,

there is an established weather-plant observatory which, on

several occasions, has foretold weather, as well as other events,

more accurately and further in advance than the scientists in the

government Weather Bureau. Although this amazing plant

weather bureau contains a great



many species of weather-wise plants gathered from all parts of

the world, yet the chief of the plant observatory is a native of

India known to botanists as Abrus precatorius which means an

Abrus used in prayers. This is more appropriate than its common

name Indian licorice, for in India its scarlet and black seeds are

made into prayer-beads or rosaries. They are also used as weights

and another interesting bit of romance is added to the remarkable

plant because the famous Kohinoor diamond was weighed by

means of these pretty seeds.

Although the East Indians have long known of the seemingly

mystic powers of the plant, its amazing ability to foretell weather,

electrical disturbances, and even catastrophes, yet it was not

known to the outside world until about fifty years ago when

Professor Nowack, the Austrian scientist, astonished his fellow

scientists by proving that the magic plant could predict weather

two days in advance. His demonstration was so convincing and

was considered of so much importance that the Prince of Wales

(later King Edward VII of England) arranged for Baron Nowack

to go to England and establish the strange plant weather bureau at

Kew.

It would be astonishing enough if this little vine did nothing more

than to foretell weather, but it is extremely sensitive to magnetic

and electrical conditions, even when at a great distance, and any

approach of atmospheric or other disturbances is indicated by the

movements of the leaves of the plant. Again and again Professor

Nowack "beat" the trained meteorological experts by means of

his weather-plants, even predicting cyclonic disturbances and

earthquakes. But the greatest



feat of the astounding plant was its forecast of a catastrophe

which no human weather prophet could have foretold, for the

plants at Kew actually predicted a fire-damp explosion in British

mines which caused the loss of many lives.



Chapter XIX

THE MOST WONDERFUL PLANTS

OF all the wonder plants which are the most wonderful? Are

they the plants which supply us with our clothing, our homes, our

dyes and the thousand-and-one necessities and luxuries of life?

Are they the plants which make possible our letters, our books

and magazines, our libraries and our daily newspapers? Are the

most wonderful plants those which appear to possess real

intelligence or those which capture insects in cleverly designed

traps? Perhaps you feel that the plants which are used as

medicines or those which supply us with food and drink should

be considered the most wonderful of all. But none of these, not

even the plant giants that have lived for thousands of years and

tower hundreds of feet in the air, are the most wonderful. On the

contrary the most wonderful of all plants are the smallest of all

plants, real plant pygmies so minute that they are invisible to the

unaided human eye, so inconceivably small that a thousand of the

plants could find lodgment upon the head of a common pin with

room to spare; so immeasurably tiny that they can be detected

only by means of the microscope and very powerful microscopes

at that. Not only are they the smallest of all plants, but they are

also the most numerous and most widely distributed, for they are

everywhere. They swarm by millions in every square inch



of earth, they teem in every drop of water in every stream, lake,

pond, swamp, and in the sea. They float by myriads in the air we

breathe and they inhabit the fluids and the tissues of our bodies,

the bodies of all living creatures and all other plants. Moreover,

they are by far the most important and valuable of all plants, for

without them there would be no life on earth, nothing to eat,

nothing to drink, no vegetation. Yet on the other hand they cause

sickness, disaster, pestilence, and death. Probably by now you

have guessed that the most wonderful of all plants are those

known as Bacteria, man's greatest, most useful friends as well as

his deadliest enemies.

Without bacteria many of our important industries would be as

impossible as would life itself. Butter, cheese, vinegar, yeast,

bread, alcohol, tobacco, cocoa, beer, wine, liquors, and countless

other useful and essential substances, foods and beverages are all

made possible by the minute bacteria plants. How do they

produce these? By breaking down chemical and atomic

combinations and rebuilding them to produce new and totally

different combinations and forms. Just how they accomplish such

seeming miracles we do not know, for even our greatest scientists

with all their modern instruments and appliances have never been

able to duplicate much of the work of these minute plants. And in

many cases when chemists and others have succeeded, their

success was the result of calling upon other bacteria to aid them.

When an animal dies it soon decomposes, but what we call

decomposition is the activity of millions of tiny plants busily

absorbing or devouring the animal tissues,



separating the chemicals of which the creature was composed,

and rearranging them to produce useful fertile soil for the benefit

of plants. And when these plants fade and wither and die and

"rot" as we express it, the ever-busy bacteria plants are merely

working their magic and are giving back to the earth and the air

the chemicals which the dead plant absorbed and used in life.

Were it not for the army of industrious microscopic plants, the

rubbish of our homes and cities would overwhelm us. But almost

as fast as the offal and waste accumulates it is broken down and

transformed to useful soil and to essential chemicals by the

trillions of bacteria. To be sure, there are certain substances

which even these wonderful plants cannot destroy. Glass,

bakelite, iron, brass, and other metals resist these minute plants,

for bacteria are impotent when it comes to breaking down the

chemical combinations of many materials made by man. But

there are no natural objects or substances which do not give way

to their activities. Even the enduring rocks fall to their attacks

and crumble away to form soil. But if they cannot unaided

destroy iron and steel they can employ their chemical allies to do

so. Bury a piece of iron in the earth or place it under decaying

vegetation and it soon becomes eaten away and vanishes,

although a piece of the same metal exposed to the open air may

merely rust and may remain fairly well preserved for years after

the buried portions have vanished. Why? Because the bacteria in

the soil and vegetation have been working steadily in their

laboratories and have released chemicals-gases and acids-which

have eaten away and destroyed the metal.



In fact the greatest services these microscopic plants render us

are their activities as chemists. Plants require nitrogen and this is

supplied by countless bacteria which possess the power of

absorbing the vital chemical and distributing it in the soil. All

farmers know that by planting a crop of beans, alfalfa, or peas on

exhausted land they enrich the soil, but it was not until quite

recently that the "whys and wherefores" of this were learned. The

puzzle was solved when scientists discovered that certain

nitrogen-absorbing bacteria thrived upon the roots of leguminous

plants, forming little clusters, and that it was these minute

funguslike plants which by releasing nitrogen enriched the soil

where legumes were grown.

As every one knows, animals breathe oxygen and exhale

carbon-dioxide, whereas plants absorb carbon dioxide and give

off oxygen. But there is only a definite amount of oxygen and

carbon-dioxide in the air, water, and earth, and if these gases had

not been restored and used over and over again, the supply would

have been exhausted and all animal and plant life would have

vanished from earth ages ago. How has this restoration been

accomplished? By the wonderful bacteria plants.

Swarming on dead vegetation they break down the tissues,

extract the chemicals of which the plants were composed and

return them to the earth and air, thus providing the

carbon-dioxide ready to be absorbed and transformed to carbon

by the plants, and to release the oxygen essential to animal life.

Moreover, during this process the busy bacteria release quantities

of "marsh gas" which decomposes substances containing sulphur,



thus preparing them for the activities of other bacteria who

transform them to sulphates.

Numerous forms of the wonder-working plants absorb light and

cause the phosphorescent glow known as "fox fire," while others

produce the heat which we so often find in compost heaps and

the interior of hay stacks. At times these plants even produce fire

by spontaneous combustion. But the damage they cause in this

way is more than offset by the benefit man derives from their

heat-making powers.

Tobacco is made fit for use by means of these bacteria whose

heating powers are used in the tobacco "sweating" process.

Others serve a similar purpose in sweating the cacao beans and

various other products. Still others produce brilliant colors, some

of which are of great value to man, while many more constantly

wage a war of extermination with their fellow bacteria which

cause diseases and death.

Perhaps you wonder what these truly wonderful Plant pygmies

are like, whether they have roots, stems, leaves, flowers, and

seeds. Some do have seeds or properly speaking, spores, which

under favorable conditions sprout or germinate very rapidly, and

under unfavorable conditions will remain dormant but alive for

years. The majority, however, increase by dividing or splitting,

each half then becoming an independent plant which in turn splits

in half forming two more plants. In this way they increase with

almost incredible speed. Under normal conditions one of these

tiny plants will reach maturity and split in thirty minutes, and

within twenty-four hours this single bacteria will have produced

billions of new plants.



In appearance they bear little resemblance to other members of

the plant world for they are simple things despite their amazing

powers and importance. Some are straight and rod like and are

known to scientists as "bacilli." Others are round or globular and

are called "cocci," while still others are curled or twisted and are

referred to as "spirella." Many are fixed or rooted like ordinary

plants, but there are many kinds of bacteria which move freely

about in liquids by means of countless vibratory hairs or "cilia."

Moreover, they move with incredible speed in proportion to their

size. It is not unusual for them to travel a distance of four inches

in fifteen minutes or sixteen inches an hour. That may seem

almost a snail's pace, but remember that the little traveler is

scarcely one fifteen-thousandths of an inch in length. In other

words it covers sixty-thousand times its own length in moving

four inches, or at the rate of about four thousand times its own

length per minute. Who says that isn't speeding? If human beings

could run at that speed they would travel over four miles a

minute or about three hundred miles an hour. Imagine being able

to hot-foot it from New York to San Francisco between breakfast

and dinner!

Just as some ordinary plants are tender, delicate things and wither

and die unless they have just the proper amount of moisture and

the right temperature, while others are tough and hardy and will

grow anywhere and will endure blazing sunshine and bitterly

cold winters, so we find both tender and hardy members of the

bacteria plant family. Some can only exist where it is damp, dark,

and cool. Others prefer dry open spots and brilliant light. Some

are very sensitive to heat while



others are killed by cold. But on the other hand there are many of

these minute plants whose spores will survive the most intense

cold and terrific heat. They will germinate and produce more

bacteria even after being frozen in liquid air at a temperature of

over four hundred degrees below zero, and they are equally

unharmed by being subjected to a bath in boiling water. But most

remarkable of all is the fact that members of this amazing group

of plants have actually been found in meteorites. That does sound

absolutely impossible, for it would mean that they had withstood

the searing terrible heat of molten metal. How is it possible for

any organic substance to resist combustion under such

temperatures? But reputable scientists have claimed more than

once that they had discovered traces of bacteria in these

fragments of celestial bodies. In that case these plants have the

right to be considered the most wonderful plants in the entire

universe for they are the only ones ever to have traveled from

other worlds to ours.

But even if the scientists have made a mistake and bacteria have

never occurred in meteorites, they certainly are the most

wonderful plants on earth, for without them no other plants

would be possible.





INDEX Acacia. and ants, 118, 119, Aster, wild, 229 120 Atropine. 63 Acacia trees 633 224 Achiote, 264 Aconite, 63 Bachelor's button, 221 African marigold, 272 Bacteria. 3. 280 Agave, fiber. 261 Balsam fir, 266 Air-cabbage, 220 Balsa wood. 137 Air-plants, 105. 220 249 Balsas, 137 Alder, 186 Bamboo. 28. 83 Algae 5 Banana, 20, 46-50 Allspice, 150 Banyan, 76 Almond. 153 Baobab, 76, 202 American senna. 236 Barberry, 239 Andean corn. 156 Barley, 153 Anotto, 264 Barrel cactus. 17.1 Ant farmers. 121 palm, 39, 40 Ant tree of Java, 8 Basswood, 217 Ants 15, 118, 119, 120, 122 Batchelor's button, 222 Apa-Apa, 81 "Batata.", 145 Apocynum cannabium, 206 Bearberry, 20,1 Apple, 149, 153, 186 Beech drops, 4, 249 "Arrete le neg," 120 Beenas, 184 Arrow grass, 293 259 Beggars' lice, 211 Arrow-head, 79 Beggars' ticks, 211 Artichoke. Jerusalem. 2,11 Belladonna, 63 Arum, giant, 80 Bergamont, oil of, 196 Asafetida, 189 Bhang, 205 Ash 217 Bindweed, 247 Aster 211, 2151 231 Birch-bark canoes, 131



INDEX

Bitter cassava. 66 Bitter-root, 55 Black drink, of Cherokees, 170 Black-Jack. 224 Blackberries. 153 Bladder-nut, 221 Bladderwort, 128 Boneset, 236 Brazil wood, 261 Bread-root, Indian, 243 Broma, 168 Buckeye. 191 Bulrushes, 258 Bull-briar, 241 Bullet-tree. 136 Burdock. 211. 236, 239 Bur-marigold, 211 Burr-grass, 211 Bush ropes. 136 Buttercups. 231 Butterwort, 126 Cabbage-palm, 26 "Cacahua," M Cacao. 163. 161 Cacao plant. 161 "Cacaoquahtl," 161 Cacti, 2, 533 174

giant, 83. 84, 173 Saguaro. 81. 173

Caffein, 174 Cahosh, 238 Calabash, 30 Caladiums, 184 California hyacinths, 242 Calisaya, 59 Camas, 242 Camelia, 168

Camote, 1,17 Camphor, 199 Canal Zone, water-hyacinths in. 111 Cannabis. 200. 206 Cannon-ball tree, 30 Capsicum, 149 Carolina tea, 170 Carrot, wild, 239 Cashew nuts 65. 66 Cassareep, 67 Cassava, 66. 176 Cassiri, 176 Castor-oil bean, 198, 266 Cat-briar. 230. 247 Catchfly, 246 Catnip, 196 Cattails. 258 Cayenne pepper. 150 Cecropia tree, 134, 136 Cedar bark. 258 Cedar of Lebanon. 75 Ceiba, 202, 216 Centipede tree, 99 Century-plant. 23, 176 Cereus. 16, 273 Chaulmoogra tree, 63 Cherokee black drink, 170 Cherry pits, 217 Chestnut, horse-, 188 Chicha, 176 Chickweed. 273 Chicle, 25 Chicory, 240 Chili pepper. 150 China brier. 211



INDEX Chincona, 57, 59 Cocoanut fiber, 257 "Chocalatl," 164 palms, 24, 32, 33, 77, 160 "Chocli," 156 twin, 42 Chocolate. 163. 161 Cow-tree, 22 Indian, 242 Crab-tree, 198 root, 242 Cucumber. wild, 21,7 Cicely, sweet, 188 Curare poison, 64 Cigarette tree, 26 Cypress. 75 Citronella, 198 giant, 174 Clematis, wild, 215 Cypress of Chapultepec, 71 Clover, 273 Cypress trees of Mexico, 74 Cloves, oil of, 266 Club-moss, is Coffee, 161 Daisies, 231 Java, 218 ox-eye, 240 Coir, 257 white, 229 Cola nut, 178 Dandelion, 281. 236, 272 Columbine, 265 greens. 241 Coontee, 241 Dasheen, 81 Copal, 201, 266 Date-palm. 40 Coreopsis, wild, 231 Day-lilies, 272 Corn, 157 Deadly nightshade, 63, 143 Indian, 153 Devil-doer. 174 Spanish, 259 Devil's anchors. 211 Syrian, 157 thread, 218 Cotton, 19, 216, 254 Diatoms, 2, 8 Couri gum, 266 Digitalis, 63 Cowslip, 241 Dittany, 236 Cow-tree. 22 Divinini reds, 186 Cocaine. 60. 62 Dock, 224 Coca leaves, 60 Dock root, 239 Plant. 61 Dodder, 218 Cockle-bur, 211, 230, 239 Dogwood, poison, 65 Coco, 168 "Dragon's blood," 264 Cocoa, 163, 161 Dugout canoes, 133, 131 butter, 168 Dutchman's breeches, 179 shells, 168 Dutchman's pipe, 179, 244 Cocoa nuts. 164 Dwarf trees, 86



INDEX

Eddoes, 179, 238 Gatun lake, 105 Edible fungus, 3 Goat-nut. 242 Eel-grass, 258 Goldenrod, 211, 229, 231, Egyptian corn, 157 239 Elephant's ears, 81, 179 Gomier trees, 25 flower, 179 Goofahs, 131 foot 179 Gooseberry, 186 Elm 217 Gourd plant. 170 Etah palm. 26. 103 Giant arum, 80 Eucalytpus, 16, 93 cacti, 83, 84, 173 Euphorbia, 194 cypress trees, 74 Evening primrose, 16, 278 fig trees, 75, 76 Everglades, water-hyacinths junipers of Virginia, 75 in. 11 lilies of Guiana, 88 redwood trees, 76 tree cactus, 173 Fan-palms, 27, 41 Grass. marram. 227 "Farine," 67 pigeon, 234 Ferns. 2. 133 149 247 883 204, sand-, 212 223 silk, 259 Fig trees. 75. 76 squaw-, 242 giant, 75, 76 Grass-cloth plant, 257 wild, 250 Grapes, 159 Fire-pink, 245 Greenheart, 186 Flag, sweet, 183 Grugru palm. go. 39 Flax, 19. 254 worms, 39 Floating islands, 101-113 Guarana', 174 Four-leaf clover. 186 Gulfweed, 8 Four o'clock, 16. 273 Gumbo, 17 Foxglove, 63 Gum-ellemi, 25, 201 Frankincense, 267 Gumplant, 236 Fungi, 2, 8, 5, 11 Gunnera, 82 Fungus, 12 Gypsy combs. 246 raised by ants. 122 1 Hammamelis, 186 Gamboge. 264 Hashish. 205 Ganja, 205 Hawkweed, 2313 272



INDEX

Haws, 217 Hawthorn. 186 Hazel, 186 Heather, white, 188 Heliotrope trees, 79 Hemlock, poison, 6,1 Hemp, Indian, 205, 296

Manilla, 29, 46, 132, 255 Oriental, 205 pita, 158 plants, 205, 255

Henbane. 63 Hennequin, 255 Hibiscus, 216 Holly, 98, 170 Hop vines, 168 Horse-chestnut, 188 Houseleek, 222 Hurricane trees, 131, 136 Hyacinths, 108-112 Hydroidea, 3 Hydroids, 2, 16, 17, 18 Hyoscyamine, 63 Iceland moss. 13 Ice-plant, 272 llex, 170 Indian bread-root, 243

chocolate, 242 corn. 153 hemp, 205, 296 licorice. 277 millet, 242 pipe, 4, 249 potatoes, 242 turnip, 65

Indigo, 264 Insect powder, 199 Irish cobbler, 189

moss, 8 potatoes, 143-146

Ivory-nut palm, 41 Ivy, poison, 64 Jack-in-the-pulpit, 65, 245 Java coffee, 218 Jellyfish, 17 Jerusalem artichoke, 241 Jewel-weed, 221, 239 jimson-weed, 63, 230, 236, 273 Jojoba, 242 Juniper. 159

giant. 75 Kapok. 19, 189 Kelp, 8 Khat, 173 Kilakilolo, 270 Kinnikinnick, 204 Kite tree 31 Krakatoa, 12 Lace-bark tree, 23 Lady's slipper, 181 Laudanum, 63 Lavender, 196, 267 Leaf-carrying ants, 122 Leek, house, 222

wild, 242 Legumes, 3 Letter-wood, 186



INDEX Lianas, 20. 22, 136, 250 Mary's hand, 63 Lichens, 10. 11, 12, 153 88 Mazetta tree, 194 Licorice, Indian, 277 Meadow-rue. 239 Life-leaf plant, 222 Mealies, 157 Lilies. giant. 88 Medicinal plants, 56 Sego, 242 Mesquite, 242 Linden seeds, 217 "Metapee," 66 Litmus, 13 Mildews, 231 Lizard tree. 2. 99 Milkweed, 213, 21,1 Locust seeds. 224 fiber, 258 Logwood, 261 Milkwort, 222 Lotus, 260 Millet, Indian, 242 Love apples, 149 Mistletoe. 185, 186 Moccasin flower, 181 Molds, 231 Macutos, 41 slime, 4 Madder, wild, 239 Moon-flower, 273 Maguey, 176 Morning glories 16, 87, 146, fiber, 261 227 Maidenhair ferns, 1,1, 88 Morphine, 63 Mai Yang tree. 201 Mosses, 8, 10, 11, 13, 249 Maize, 153 "Mountain cabbage," 38 Manchineel tree. 65 Mouse plant, 268 Mandrake, 183 Mucanyoko tree, 194 Man-eating plants. 129 Mulberry fiber, 258 Mangroves. 224 Mullen, 191, 229, 231, 236 Manioc, 66, 143 Mushrooms, 2, 3, 5, 249 Manilla hemp, 29, 46, 132, Musk. 196 255 Myrrh, 267 Maple-tree seeds, 217 Marguerite. 240 Marigold, marsh-, 241 Nasturtiums. 273 wild. 272 Nettles, 230 Mariposa tulip, 243 fiber. 257, Marjoram, 188 flowers, 239 Marram grass,. 227 New Jersey tea, 170 Marsh-marigold, 241 Night-blooming cereus, 16, Mate, 170 273



INDEX Nightshade. 230 Paraguay tea, 170 Nux vomica, 63 Peach palm, 39 Peaches. 153 Peanut, 151, 152 Oak. Quercitron, 265 Peas. wild, 2473 258 Oak-trees and mistletoe, 186 Pejibaye palm, 39 Oats, 153 Pennyroyal, 236 wild, 242 "Pepper pot," 67 Oil of cloves, 266 Peppers, 149 Okra, 217 red, 150 Old man's beard. 250 sweet, 149 Onions, 199 Persian insect-powder plant, wild 9.42 199 Opium, 204 Peruvian bark, 57 Orange, Osage, 198 Pickerel weed, 79 Orchids 15, 88, 105, 115, Pigeon grass, 234 179, 219 Pigweed, 211 Oriental poppy, 201 Pimento, 150 hemp, 205 Pimiento, 151 Orris, 267 Pine, 275 Osage orange, 198 Pineapple, 69 Ox-eye daisy, 240 fiber, 258 Pita hemp, 258 Pitcher-plants, 128, 125 Paddle tree, 28 "Pits", 217 Painted cup, 217 Piva palm, 26 Paiwarie, 68. 176 Plantain. 231 Palm cabbage, 33, 88 wild, 15, 27 Palmetto, 30 Plants 'spread by whalers, Palms, 13, 20, 25, 26, 33, 38, 132 39, 42, 43-45, 77, 78 Plasmodium, 5 Panama hats, 258 Poinsettia, 247 Pansies, 221 Poison dogwood, 65 Pansy tree, 79 hemlock, 6,1 Papas, 14,1 ivy, 64 Paper, 260 sumac, 65 Paprika, 150 Pokeweed, 236, 288 Papyrus, 260 Poplar, 216



INDEX Poppy, 63, 281, 272 Resin, 266 Oriental, 204 Resurrection plants, 52 white, 201 Rhodium, 196 Potato "balls," 147 Rice, 158 Potatoes. Indian, 212 Rice straw. 261 Irish or white, 143, 146 Rockweed, 8 sweet, 143. 146, 148 Ruse-apples, 267 Primrose, evening, 16, 273 Rose of Jericho, 52 Princess pine, 275 Roses, 153 Protoplasm, 5 Royal palms, 33, 38, 77 "Pulp" trees, 262 Rubber-trees, 22 Pulque, 176 Rue, meadow-, 239 Purple-heart tree, 28 Rusts, 231 Purslane, 241 Rye, 153 Pyrethrum, 199 St. John's wort, 87, 238 Quamash, 242 Sandalwood, 267 Queen Anne's lace, 239 tree, 201 Quercitron oak, 265 Sand-box tree, 222 Quarries, 57 Sand-grass, 212 Quinine, 57, 59 Sand-reed, 227 Sanders, red, 264 "Sara," 156 Raffia, 258 Saguaro brandy, 86 Rafflesia flower, so cactus, 84, 173 Ramie, 257 Sassafras tea, 170 Raspberries, 153 Saw-palmetto, 33 Rattan, 21 Seaweeds, 6 Red buckeye, 194 Seda virgen, 23 pepper, 150 Sego, wild, 242 sanders. 26,1 Sego lily, 242 Sea, 6 Sensitive plants, 91, 98 snow, 6 Sequoia trees 72 willow, 204 Sheep-nut, 242 Redwood trees, giant, 75 Shrew-tree, 191 Reed boats, 187 Silk-cotton tree, 188 Reindeer moss, 18 Silk grass, 259



INDEX Silky cornel, 204 cicely, 188 Sisal, 255 fern, 201 Slime molds, 4 flag, 183 Sloths, 6 peppers, 149 Smuts, 231 potatoes. 146. 148 Soap-bark tree, 29 Syrian corn, 157 Soap-berry bush, 29 Soap-plant, 191 Soap-vine, 29 ''Tagua," 41 Soredia, 11 Talipot palm, 43-45 Sorrel. 221. 238 Tanier, 81 seeds, 234 Tansy, 236 Snake-dagger. 258 Tapioca, 67 Spanish bayonet, 258 Taro, 179 corn, 157 Tea, grades of, 169 moss, 249 New Jersey, 170 Sphagnum, 10 of Gauchos, 173 Spruces, 262 Paraguay, 170 Spuds,143 sassafras, 170 Squaw-grass, 242 Tea plant, 168 Star of Bethlehem. 272 Teasel, 239, 241 Starry campion, 245 Tefeldi tree. 202 Sticktight, 213 Thistles, 215, 230, 272 Stop the Negro, 120 Toadstools, 64, 249 Strawberries. 153 Tobacco, 19, 202, 209 Strychnine, 63 Tomatoes. 148. 149 Sugar-cane, 153. 159 Tortoise plant, 179 Sumac berries, 204 Touch-me-not, 221 poison. 65 Travelers' palm, 20 Sun-bittern, 14 Tree cactus, 173 Sundews, 88, 126, 128 Tree-ferns, 11, 21 "Sun" flowers, 16 Trefoil, 188 Sunflowers. wild, 239 Trumpet-creeper, 90 Sunroot, 241 Tulip tree, 217 Swamp moss, 10 Tumbleweeds, 187, 219 Sweating cacao, 166 "Tuk-eya-heya," 26 Sweet briar, 231 Turkey mullen, 194 cassava, 66 Turkish wheat, 157



INDEX Turnip, Indian, 65 White daisies, 229 Twin cocoanut, 42 heather, 188 poppy, 201 Willows, 51 Umbrella ants, 122 red, 201 weeping. 51 Witch-apples, 187 Vanilla bean orchid, 115 Witch-balls, 187 Venus's fly-trap, 125 Witches'-besom, 187 Verbena tree, 79 Witch-broom, 187 Vetch, 239 Witch-alder, 187 Viburnum, 238 Witch-elm, 187 Victoria Regia, 80 Witch-grass, 231, 236 Vines, hop, 158 Witch-hazel, 186 north and south of equator, Wood sorrel, 221 90, 913 92 Worcestershire sauce, 67 soap, 29 Wurali poison, 61 Violet trees., 79 Violets, 221 Yams, 148 Virgin's bower, 215 Yaretta, 200 Yarrow, 235 Yaupon, 170 Walking fern. 2, 228 Yantias, 81, 179 Walking leaves, 4 Yeast plants. 158 Walking-stick insects, 1 Yellow-wood, 239 Water-hyacinth, 108-112 Yerba mate, 170 Wax-palms, 25, 42 Yucca, 29 Weeping willow, 61 Whale-boats. 132 Wheat. 153 Zinnias, 265

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