feet, but it is sometimes much taller. The trunk is not only rough, but very dark in color; and from this circumstance the species is frequently called black pine. The wood is very hard and firm, and contains a quantity of resin. This is much more abundant in the branches than in the trunk, and the boards and other lumber of this wood are usually full of pitch-knots.”
“What are pitch-knots?” asked Clara.
“‘When a growing branch,'” read Miss Harson, “‘is broken off, the remaining portion becomes charged with resin,’ which is deposited by the resin-bearing sap of the tree, ‘forming what is called a pitch-knot, extending sometimes to the heart. The same thing takes place through the whole heart of a tree when, full of juice, its life is suddenly destroyed.’ ‘Resin’ is another name for turpentine, but is used of it commonly when hardened into a solid form. The tar is obtained by slowly burning splintered pine, both trunk and root, with a smothered flame, and collecting the black liquid, which is expelled by the heat and caught in cavities beneath the burning pile. Pitch is thickened tar, and is used in calking ships and for like purposes.”
“I am going to remember that,” said Malcolm; “I could never make out what all those different things meant.”
“What are you thinking about so seriously, Clara?” asked her governess. “If it is a puzzle, let me see if I cannot solve it for you.”
“Well, Miss Harson, I was thinking of those brown leaves, or ‘needles,’ in the pine-woods, and it seems strange to say that the leaves of evergreens never fall off.”
“It would not only be strange, dear, but quite untrue, to say that; for the same leaves do not, of course, remain for ever on the tree. The deciduous trees lose their leaves in the autumn and are entirely bare until the next spring, but the evergreens, although they renew their leaves, too, are never left without verdure of some sort. Late in October you may see the yellow or brown foliage of the pines, then ready to fall, surrounding the branches of the previous year’s growth, forming a whorl of brown fringe surmounted by a tuft of green leaves of the present year’s growth. Their leaves always turn yellow before the fall.”
CHAPTER XIX.
_GIANT AND NUT PINES_.
Great was the surprise of Edith when Miss Harson gave the little sleeper a gentle shake and told her that it was time to be up. But the birds without the window told the same story, and the little maiden was soon at the breakfast-table and ready for the day’s duties and enjoyments, including their “tree-talk.”
“Are there any more kinds of pine trees?” asked Malcolm.
[Illustration: “AWAKE, LITTLE ONE!”]
“Yes, indeed!–more than we can take up this summer,” replied Miss Harson. “There is the Norway pine, or red pine, which in Maine and New Hampshire is often seen in forests of white and pitch pine. It has a tall trunk of eighty feet or so, and a smooth reddish bark. The leaves are in twos, six or eight inches long, and form large tufts or brushes at the end of the branchlets. The wood is strong and resembles that of the pitch-pine, but it contains no resin. The giant pines of California belong to a different species from any that we have been considering, and the genus, or order, in which they have been arranged is called _Sequoia_[19]. They are generally known, however, as the ‘Big Trees.’ In one grove there are a hundred and three of them, which cover a space of fifty acres, called ‘Mammoth-Tree Grove.’ One of the giants has been felled–a task which occupied twenty-two days. It was impossible to cut it down, in the ordinary sense of the term, and the men had to bore into it with augers until it was at last severed in twain. Even then the amazing bulk of the tree prevented it from falling, and it still kept its upright position. Two more days were employed in driving wedges into the severed part on one side, thus to compel the giant to totter and fall. The trunk was no less than three hundred and two feet in height and ninety-six in circumference. The stump, which was left standing, presented such a large surface that a party of thirty couples have danced with ease upon it and still left abundant room for lookers-on.”
[19] _Sequoia gigantea_.
When the children had sufficiently exclaimed over the size of this huge tree, their governess continued:
“It is thought that these trees must have been growing for more than two thousand years, which would make them probably two hundred years old at the birth of our Saviour. Does it not seem wonderful to think of? There are other groups of giant pines scattered on the mountains and in the forests, and some youthful giants about five hundred years old.”
“I suppose they are the babies of the family,” said Clara; and this idea amused Edith very much.
“There is still another kind of pine,” said Miss Harson–“the Italian, or stone, pine. It is shaped almost exactly like an umbrella with a very long handle. The _Pinus pinea_ bears large cones, the seed of which is not only eatable, but considered a delicious nut. The cone is three years in ripening; it is then about four inches long and three wide, and has a reddish hue. Each scale of which the cone is formed is hollow at the base and contains a seed much larger than that of any other species. When the cone is ripe, it is gathered by the owners of the forest; and when thoroughly dried on the roof or thrown for a few minutes into the fire, it separates into many compartments, from each of which drops a smooth white nut in shape like the seed of the date. The shell is very hard, and within it is the fruit, which is much used in making sweetmeats. The stone-pine is found also in Palestine, and is supposed to be the cypress of the Bible. The author of _The Ride Through Palestine_[20] speaks of passing through a fine grove of the stone-pine, ‘tall and umbrella-topped,’ with dry sticks rising oddly here and there from the very tops of the trees. These sticks were covered with birdlime, to snare the poor bird which might be tempted to set foot on such treacherous supports; and if the cones were ripe, they would be quite sure to do it. Here is the picture, from the book just mentioned. Italian pine is a prettier name than stone-pine, and this is the name by which it is known to artists, who put it into almost every picture of Italian scenery.
“‘Much they admire that old religious tree With shaft above the rest upshooting free, And shaking, when its dark locks feel the wind, Its wealthy fruit with rough and massive rind.'”
[20] Presbyterian Board of Publication.
[Illustration: STONE-PINE–“FIR” _(Pinus maritima_)].
“But how queer it sounds to call fruit _wealthy_!” said Malcolm.
“It is odd,” replied his governess, “only because the word is not now used in that sense; but the fruit is wealthy both because of its abundance and because it can be put to so many uses. Let us see what is said of it:
“‘The kernels, or seeds, from the cones of the stone-pine have always been esteemed as a delicacy. In the old days of Rome and Greece they were preserved in honey, and some of the larders of the ill-fated city of Pompeii were amply stored with jars of this agreeable conserve, which were found intact after all those years. The kernels are also sugared over and used as _bonbons_. They enter into many dishes of Italian cookery, but great care has to be taken not to expose them to the air. They are usually kept in the cones until they are wanted, and will then retain their freshness for some years. The squirrels eagerly seek after the fruit of this pine and almost subsist upon it. They take the cone in their paws and dash out the seeds, thus scattering many of them and helping to propagate the tree.
“‘There is a bird called the crossbill that makes its nest in the pine. It fixes its nest in place by means of the resin of the tree and coats it with the same material, so as to render it impervious to the rain. The seeds from the cones form its chief food, and it extracts them with its curious bill, the two parts of which cross each other. It grasps the cone with its foot, after the fashion of a parrot, and digs into it with the upper part of its bill, which is like a hook, and forces out the seed with a jerk.'”
[Illustration: PINE-CONE (_Pinus Sylvestris_.)]
The children enjoyed this account very much, and they thought that stone-pine nuts–which they had never seen, and perhaps never would see–must be the most delicious nuts that ever grew.
“What nice times the birds have,” said Clara, “helping themselves to all the good things that other people can’t reach!”
“They are not exactly ‘people,'” replied Miss Harson, laughing; “and, in spite of all these ‘nice times,’ you would not be quite willing to change with them, I think.”
No, on the whole, Clara was quite sure that she would not.
CHAPTER XX.
_MORE WINTER TREES: THE FIRS AND THE SPRUCES_.
There were some beautiful evergreens on the lawn at Elmridge, and, although the foliage seemed dark in summer, it gave the place a very cheerful look in winter, when other trees were quite bare, while the birds flew in and out of them so constantly that spring seemed to have come long before it really did arrive.
“This balsam-fir,” said Miss Harson as they stood near a tall, beautiful tree that tapered to a point, “has, you see, a straight, smooth trunk and tapers regularly and rapidly to the top. You will notice, too, that the leaves, which are needle-shaped and nearly flat, do not grow in clusters, but singly, and that their color is peculiar. There are faint white lines on the upper part and a silvery-blue tinge beneath, and this silvery look is produced by many lines of small, shining resinous dots. The deep-green bark, striped with gray, is full of balsam, or resin, known as balm of Gilead or Canada balsam, and highly valued as a cure for diseases of the lungs. The long cones are erect, or standing, and grow thickly near the ends of the upper branches. They have round, bluish-purple scales, and the soft color has a very pretty effect on the tree. They ripen every year, and the lively little squirrel, as he is called, feasts upon them, as the crossbill does on the cones of the stone-pine. But the mischievous little animal also barks the boughs and gnaws off the tops of the leading shoots, so that many trees are injured and defaced by his depredations.”
[Illustration: AMERICAN WHITE SPRUCE.]
“He _is_ a lively little squirrel,” observed Malcolm. “How he does race! But he doesn’t gnaw our trees, does he?”
“No, I think not, for he prefers staying in the woods and fields; but fir-woods are his especial delight. Our balsam-fir is the American sister of the silver fir of Europe, both having bluish-green foliage with a silvery under surface, in a single row on either side of the branches, which curve gracefully upward at the ends. The tree has a peculiarly light, airy appearance until it is old, when there is little foliage except at the ends of the branches. The silver fir is one of the tallest trees on the continent of Europe, and it is remarkable for the beauty of its form and foliage and the value of its timber.”
“I know what this tree is,” said Clara, turning to an evergreen of stately form and graceful, drooping branches that almost touched the ground: “it’s Norway spruce. Papa told me this morning.”
[Illustration: THE NORWAY PINE.]
“Yes,” replied her governess, “and a beautiful tree it is, like the fir in many respects, but the bark is rougher and the cones droop. The branches, too, are lower and more sweeping. But the fir and the spruce are more alike than many sisters and brothers. The Scotch fir, about which there are many interesting things to be learned, is more rugged-looking, and the Norway spruce, which will bear studying too, is more grand and majestic.”
[Illustration: THE HEMLOCK SPRUCE.]
“I know this one, Miss Harson,” said little Edith as they came to a sweeping hemlock near the bay-window of the dining-room.
“Yes, dear,” was the reply; “Hemlock Lodge has made you feel very well acquainted with the tree after which it is named. It is one of the most beautiful of the evergreens, with its widely-spreading branches and their delicate, fringe-like foliage; but, although the branches are ornamental for church and house decoration, they are very perishable, and drop their small needles almost immediately when placed in a heated room. And now,” continued the young lady, “we have come back to warm piazza-days again, and can have our talk in the open air.”
So on the piazza they speedily established themselves, with Miss Harson in the low, comfortable chair and her audience on the crimson cushions that had been piled up in a corner.
“We shall find a great deal about the fir tree,” said Miss Harson, “as it is very hardy and rugged, and as common in all Northern regions as the white birch–quite as useful, too, as we shall soon see. This rugged species–which is generally called the Scotch fir–is not so smooth and handsome as our balsam-fir, but it is a tree which the people who live near the great Northern forests of Europe could not easily do without. It belongs to the great pine family and is often called a pine, but in the countries of Great Britain especially it is called the Scotch fir. Although well shaped, it is not a particularly elegant-looking tree. The branches are generally gnarled and broken, and the style of the tree is more sturdy than graceful. The Scotch fir often grows to the height of a hundred feet, and the bark is of a reddish tinge. ‘It is one of the most useful of the tribe, and, like the bountiful palm, confers the greatest blessing on the inhabitants of the country where it grows. It serves the peasants of the bleak, barren parts of Sweden and Lapland for food: their scanty supply of meal often runs short, and they go to the pine to eke it out. They choose the oldest and least resinous of the branches and take out the inner bark. They first grind it in a mill, and then mix it with their store of meal; after this it is worked into dough and made into cakes like pancakes. The bark-bread is a valuable addition to their slender resources, and sometimes the young shoots are used as well as the bark. Indeed, so largely is this store of food drawn upon that many trees have been destroyed, and in some places the forest is actually thinned.”
“They’re as bad as the squirrels,” said Malcolm. “But how I should hate to eat such stuff!”
“It may not be so very bad,” replied his governess. “Some people think that only white bread is fit to eat, but I think that Kitty’s brown bread is rather liked in this family.”
The children all laughed, for didn’t papa declare–with _such_ a sober face!–that they were eating him out of house and home in brown bread alone? Kitty, too, pretended to grumble because the plump loaves disappeared so fast, but she said to herself at the same time, “Bless their hearts! let ’em eat: it’s better than a doctor’s bill.”
“A great many other things besides pancakes are made from the tree,” continued Miss Harson, “and the fresh green tops furnish very nice carpets.”
There was a faint “_Oh!_” at this, but, after all, it was not so surprising as the cakes had been.
“They are scattered on the floors of houses as rushes used to be in old times in England, and thus they serve as carpet and prevent the mud and dirt that stick to the shoes of the peasants from staining the floor; and when trodden on, the leaves give out a most agreeable aromatic perfume.”
“I’d like that part,” said Clara.
[Illustration: THE BLUE SPRUCE.]
“But you cannot have one part without taking it all; almost everything, you see, has a pleasant side.–‘The peasant finds no limit to the use of the pine. Of its bark he makes the little canoe which is to carry him along the river; it is simple in its construction, and as light as possible. When he comes within safe distance of one of those gushing, foaming cataracts that he meets with in his course, he pushes his canoe to land and carries it on his shoulders until the danger is past; then he launches it again, and paddles merrily onward. Not a single nail is used in his canoe: the planks are tightly secured together by a natural cordage made of the roots of the pine. He splits them of the right thickness, and with very little preparation they form exactly the material he needs.'”
Malcolm evidently had some idea of making a canoe of this kind, but he became discouraged when his governess reminded him that he could not cut down trees, and that his father would prefer having them left standing. It did not seem necessary to speak of any difficulties in the way of putting the boat together.
“Another use for the fir is to light up the poor hut of the peasant. ‘He splits up the branches into laths and makes them into torches. If he wants a light, he takes one of the laths and kindles it at the fire; then he fixes it in a rude frame, which serves him for a candlestick. The light is very brilliant while it lasts, but is soon spent, and he is in darkness again. The same use is made of the pine. It is no unusual circumstance, in the Scotch pine-woods, to come upon a tree with the trunk scooped out from each side and carried away: the cottager has been to fetch material for his candles. But this somewhat rough usage does not hurt the tree, and it continues green and healthy.’ In our Southern States pine-fat with resin is called lightwood, and is used for the same purpose.”
“That’s an easy way of getting candles,” said Clara.
“Easy, perhaps, compared with the trouble of moulding them,” replied Miss Harson, “but I do not think we should fancy either way of preparing them.”
“Is there anything to tell about the spruce tree?” asked Malcolm.
“It is too much like the fir,” replied his governess, “to have any very distinct character; but there are species here, known as the white and black spruce, besides the hemlock.”
But the children thought that hemlock was hemlock: how did it come to be spruce?
“Because it has the family features–leaves solitary and very short; cones pendulous, or hanging, with the scales thin at the edge; and the fruit ripens in a single year. The hemlock-spruce, as it is sometimes called, is, I think, the most beautiful of the family. ‘It is distinguished from all the other pines by the softness and delicacy of its tufted foliage, from the spruce by its slender, tapering branchlets and the smoothness of its limbs, and from the balsam-fir by its small terminal cones, by the irregularity of its branches and the gracefulness of its whole appearance.’ The delicate green of the young trees forms a rich mass of verdure, and at this season each twig has on the end a tuft of new leaves yellowish-green in color and making a beautiful contrast to the darker hue of last year’s foliage. The bark of the trunk is reddish, and that of the smooth branches and small twigs is light gray. The branchlets are very small, light and slender, and are set irregularly on the sides of the small branches; so that they form a flat surface. This arrangement renders them singularly well adapted to the making of brooms–a use of the hemlock familiar to housekeepers in the country towns throughout New England. The leaves, which are extremely delicate and of a silvery whiteness on the under side, are arranged in a row on each side of the branchlets. The slender, thread-like stems on which they grow make them move easily with the slightest breath of wind, and this, with the silvery hue underneath, gives to the foliage a glittering look that is very pretty. But I think you all can tell me when the hemlock is prettiest?”
“After a snow-storm,” said Clara. “Don’t we all look, almost the first thing, at the tree by the dining-room window?”
“Yes,” replied Miss Harson; “it is a beautiful sight with the snow lying on it in masses and the dark green of the leaves peeping through. ‘The branches put forth irregularly from all parts of the trunk, and lie one above another, each bending over at its extremities upon the surface of those below, like the feathers upon the wings of a bird,’ And soft, downy plumes they look, with the snow resting on them and making them more feathery than ever.”
“So they are like feathers?” said Malcolm, to whom this was a new idea, “I’ll look for ’em the next time it snows; yet–” He was going to add that he wished it would snow to-morrow; but remembering that it was only the beginning of June, and that Miss Harson had shown them how each season has its pleasures, he stopped just in time.
“The pretty little cones of the hemlock, which grow very thickly on the tree, have a crimson tinge at first, and turn to a light brown. They are found hanging on the ends of the small branches, and they fall during the autumn and winter. This tree is a native of the coldest parts of North America, where it is found in whole forests, and it flourishes on granite rocks on the sides of hills exposed to the most violent storms. The wood is firm and contains very little resin; it is much used for building-purposes. A great quantity of tannin is obtained from the bark; and when mixed with that of the oak, it is valuable for preparing leather.
“We have taken the prettiest of the spruces first,” continued Miss Harson, “and now we must see what are the differences between them. ‘The two species of American spruce, the black and the white–or, as they are more commonly called, the double and the single–are distinguished from the fir and the hemlock in every stage of growth by the roughness of the bark on their branches, produced by little ridges running down from the base of each leaf, and by the disposition of the leaves, which are arranged in spirals equally on every side of the young shoots. The double is distinguished from the single spruce by the darker color of the foliage–whence its name of black spruce–by the greater thickness, in proportion to the length, of the cones, and by the looseness of its scales, which are jagged, or toothed, on the edge.’ It is a well-proportioned tree, but stiff-looking, and the dark foliage, which never seems to change, gives it a gloomy aspect. The leaves are closely arranged in spiral lines. The black spruce is never a very large tree, but the wood is light, elastic and durable, and is valuable in shipbuilding, for making ladders and for shingles. The young shoots are much in demand for making spruce-beer. The white spruce is more slender and tapering, and the bark and leaves are lighter. The root is very tough, and the Canadian Indians make threads from the fibres, with which they sew together the birch-bark for their canoes. The wood is as valuable as that of the black spruce.”
“Does the Norway spruce come from Norway?” asked Clara.
“Yes; that is its native land, where it presents its most grand and beautiful appearance. There it ‘rivals the palm in stature, and even attains the height of one hundred and eighty feet. Its handsome branches spread out on every side and clothe the trunk to its base, while the summit of the tree ends in an arrow-like point. In very old trees the branches droop at the extremities, and not only rest upon the ground, but actually take root in it and grow. Thus a number of young trees are often seen clustering around the trunk of an old one.'”
“Why, that’s like the banyan tree,” said Malcolm.
“Only there is a difference in the manner of growth, for the branches of the banyan are some distance from the ground and send forth rootlets without touching it. The Norway spruce is also the great tree of the Alps, where it seems to match the majestic scenery. The timber is valuable for building; and when sawed into planks, it is called white deal, while that of the Scotch fir is red deal.
“And now,” said Miss Harson, “before we leave the firs, let us see what is said about them in the Bible. They were used for shipbuilding in the city of Tyre; for the prophet Ezekiel says, ‘They have made all thy ship boards of fir trees of Senir[21],’ and it is written that ‘David and all the house of Israel played before the Lord on all manner of instruments made of firwood[22].’ The same wood was used then in building houses, as you will find, Malcolm, by turning to the Song of Solomon, seventh chapter, seventeenth verse.”
[21] Ezek. xxvii. 5.
[22] 2 Sam. vi. 5.
“‘The beams of our house are cedar, and our rafters of fir,'” read Malcolm.
“In Kings it is said, ‘So Hiram gave Solomon cedar trees and fir trees, according to his desire[23],’ and these trees were to be used for the very house, or palace, of which the Jewish king speaks in his Song. Evergreens are often mentioned in the Bible, and in that beautiful Christmas chapter, the sixtieth of Isaiah, you will find the fir tree again.–Read the thirteenth verse, Clara.”
[23] I Kings v. 10.
“‘The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, the pine tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and I will make the place of my feet glorious.’–What is ‘the glory of Lebanon,’ Miss Harson?”
“The cedar of Lebanon, dear; and we will now turn our attention to that and the other cedars.”
CHAPTER XXI.
_THE CEDARS_.
“The cypress tribe,” said Miss Harson, “differ from the pines, or Coniferae, by not having their fruit in a true cone, but in a roundish head which consists of a small number of scales, sometimes forming a sort of berry. One of the most common of this family is the arbor vitae, or tree of life–a tree so small as to look like a pointed shrub, and more used for fences than for ornament. An arbor-vitae hedge, you know, divides our flower garden from the kitchen-garden and goes all the way down to the brook.”
“I like the smell of it,” said Clara. “Don’t you, Miss Harson?”
[Illustration: SIBERIAN ARBOR VITAE]
“Yes,” was the reply, “there is something very fresh and pleasant about it; and when well kept, as John is sure to keep ours, it makes a beautiful hedge. As a tree it has been known to reach forty or fifty feet in height, with a trunk ten feet in circumference. The leaves are arranged in four rows, in alternately opposite pairs, and seem to make up the fan-like branchlets. These branchlets look like parts of a large compound, flat leaf. The bark is slightly furrowed, smooth to the touch, and very white when the tree stands exposed. The wood is reddish, somewhat odorous, very light, soft and fine-grained. In the northern part of the United States and in Canada it holds the first place for durability.”
“I thought the cypress was a flower,” said Malcolm.
“So one kind of cypress is,” replied his governess–“the blossom of an airy-looking and beautiful creeper; but the name also belongs to a family of trees. The white cedar, or cypress, is a very graceful tree which generally grows in swamps. ‘It is entirely free from the stiffness of the pines, and to the spiry top of the poplar it unites the airy lightness of the hemlock. The trunk is straight and tall, tapering very gradually, and toward the top there are short irregular branches, forming a small but beautiful head, above which the leading shoot waves like a slender plume.’ The leaves are very small and scale-like, with sharp points, and grow in four rows on the ends of the branchlets, giving them the appearance of large compound leaves. The wood is very durable, and is used for many building-purposes. It is generally of a faint rose-color, and always keeps its aromatic odor.”
[Illustration: IRISH JUNIPER.]
“Is that what our cedar-chests are made of to keep the moths from our winter clothes?” asked Clara.
“Yes,” replied Miss Harson, “but the name ‘cedar’ is; not correct, though it is one commonly given to this tree. The wood of the European cypress is also used for many purposes where strength and durability are required, for it really seems never to wear out. This tree is described as tapering and cone-like, with upright branches growing close to the trunk, and in its general appearance a little resembling a poplar. Its frond-like branches are closely covered with very small sharp-pointed leaves of a yellow-green color, smooth and shining, and they remain on the tree five or six years. The cypress is often seen in burying-grounds in Europe, and in Turkey it often stands at each end of a grave. The oldest tree in Europe is thought to be an Italian cypress said to have been planted in the year of our Saviour’s birth; it is an object of great reverence in the neighborhood. This ancient tree is a hundred and twenty feet high and twenty-three feet around the trunk.
“The juniper–or red cedar, as it is improperly called–is not a handsome tree, but it is a very useful one. It has a scraggy, stunted look, and the foliage is apt to be rusty; but it will grow in rocky, sandy places where no other tree would even try to hold up its head, and the wood, when made into timber, lasts for a great many years. Posts for fences are made of the juniper or red cedar, and the shipbuilder, boatbuilder, carpenter, cabinet-maker and turner are all steady customers for it. The ‘cedar-apples’ found on this tree are one phase of the life of a very curious fungus. They are covered with a reddish-brown bark; and when fresh, they are tough and fleshy, somewhat like an unripe apple. When dry they become of a woody nature.”
“They pucker up your mouth awfully,” said Malcolm, who had made several attempts to eat them; but, do what he would, he could not even “make believe” they were nice.
“I have no doubt of it,” was the reply, “remembering the dreadful faces I have seen on some of our rambles. But the birds like them, as they do everything of the kind that is not poisonous.”
* * * * *
“Isn’t it beautiful?” exclaimed the children, in delight. They were admiring a magnificent cedar of Lebanon in one of the pictures which Miss Harson had collected for their benefit, and it seemed no wonder that the grand spreading tree should be called “the glory of Lebanon.”
“It is indeed beautiful,” replied their governess; “and think of seeing a whole mountain covered with such trees! A traveler speaks of them as the most solemnly impressive trees in the world, and says that their massive trunks, clothed with a scaly texture almost like the skin of living animals and contorted with all the irregularities of age, may well have suggested those ideas of royal, almost divine, strength and solidity which the sacred writers ascribe to them.–Turn to the ninety-second psalm, Clara, and read the twelfth verse.”
“‘The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree; he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon.'”
“In the thirty-first chapter of Ezekiel,” continued Miss Harson, “it is written, ‘Behold, the Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of an high stature; and his top was among the thick boughs. The waters made him great, the deep set him up on high with her rivers running round about his plants, and sent out her little rivers unto all the trees of the field. Therefore his height was exalted above all the trees of the field and his boughs were multiplied, and his branches became long because of the multitude of waters, when he shot forth. All the fowls of heaven made their nests in his boughs, and under his branches did all the beasts of the field bring forth their young, and under his shadow dwelt all great nations.'”
[Illustration: CEDAR OF LEBANON.]
“Are the leaves like those of our cedar trees?” asked Malcolm, who was studying the picture quite intently. “The tree doesn’t look like ’em.”
“They are somewhat like them,” replied his governess, “being slender and straight and about an inch long. They grow in tufts, and in the centre of some of the tufts there is a small cone which is very pretty and often brought to this country by travelers for their friends at home. In _The Land and the Book_ there is a picture of small branches with cones, and the author says of the cedar: ‘There is a striking peculiarity in the shape of this tree which I have not seen any notice of in books of travel. The branches are thrown out horizontally from the parent trunk. These again part into limbs, which preserve the same horizontal direction, and so on down to the minutest twigs; and even the arrangement of the clustered leaves has the same general tendency. Climb into one, and you are delighted with a succession of verdant floors spread around the trunk and gradually narrowing as you ascend. The beautiful cones seem to stand upon or rise out of this green flooring.’ The same writer says that by examining the different growths of wood inside the trunk of one of the trees these ancient cedars of Lebanon have been proved to be three thousand five hundred years old.”
“Oh, Miss Harson!” exclaimed her audience; “could any tree be as old as that?”
“It is possible. The circle of growing wood which is made each year is a pretty good method of telling the age of a tree, and these cedars of Lebanon are considered the oldest trees in the world. Travelers have always spoken of the beauty and symmetry of these trees, with their widespreading branches and cone-like tops. All through the Middle Ages a visit to the cedars of Lebanon was regarded by many persons in the light of a pilgrimage. Some of the trees were thought to have been planted by King Solomon himself, and were looked upon as sacred relics. Indeed, the visitors took away so many pieces from the bark that it was feared the trees would be destroyed. The cedars stand in a valley a considerable way up the mountain, where the snow renders it inaccessible for part of the year.”
“Are the trees just in one particular place, then?” asked Malcolm. “I thought they grew all over that country?”
“The principal and best-known grove of very large and ancient cedars of Lebanon is found in one place,” replied his governess, “but there are other groves now known to exist. The famous grove was fast disappearing, until there were but few of them left. The pilgrims who went to visit them in such numbers in olden times were accompanied by monks from a monastery about four miles below, who would beseech them not to injure a single leaf. But the greatest care could not preserve the trees. Some of them have been struck down by lightning, some broken by enormous loads of snow, and others torn to fragments by tempests. Some have even been cut down with axes like any common tree. But better care is now taken of them; so that we may hope that the grove will live and increase.”
“But why weren’t they saved,” asked Clara, “when people thought so much of them?”
“It seems to be a part of the general desolation of the land of God’s chosen but rebellious people. In the third chapter of the prophet Isaiah, verses eleven and twelve, it is said, ‘For the day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon every one that is proud and lofty, and upon every one that is lifted up; and he shall be brought low; and upon all the cedars of Lebanon, that are high and lifted up, and upon all the oaks of Bashan.’ The same prophet says, in the tenth chapter and nineteenth verse, ‘And the rest of the trees of his forest shall be few, that a child may write them.’ These words have been particularly applied to the stately cedars of Lebanon, for ‘the once magnificent grove is but a speck on the mountain-side. Many persons have taken it in the distance for a wood of fir trees, but on approaching nearer and taking a closer view the cedars resume somewhat of their ancient majesty. The space they cover is not more than half a mile, but, once amidst them, the beautiful fan-like branches overhead, the exquisite green of the younger trees and the colossal size of the older ones fill the mind with interest and admiration. Within the grove all is hushed as in a land of the past. Where once the Tyrian workman plied his axe and the sound of many voices came upon the ear, there are now the silence and solitude of desertion and decay.’–Malcolm,” added his governess, “you may read us what is written in the sixth verse of the fourteenth chapter of Hosea.”
“‘His branches,'” read Malcolm, “‘shall spread, and his beauty shall be as the olive tree, and his smell as Lebanon.’ What does that mean, Miss Harson?”
“It means the fragrant resin which exudes from both the trunk and the cones of the beautiful cedar. It is soft, and its fragrance is like that of the balsam of Mecca. ‘Everything about this tree has a strong balsamic odor, and hence the whole grove is so pleasant and fragrant that it is delightful to walk in it. The wood is peculiarly adapted for building, because it is not subject to decay, nor is it eaten of worms. It was much used for rafters and for boards with which to cover houses and form the floors and ceilings of rooms. It was of a red color, beautiful, solid and free from knots. The palace of Persepolis, the temple of Jerusalem and Solomon’s palace were all in this way built with cedar, and the house of the forest of Lebanon was perhaps so called from the quantity of this wood used in its construction.’ We are told in First Kings that Solomon ‘built also the house of the forest of Lebanon[24],’ and that ‘he made three hundred shields of beaten gold’ and ‘put them in the house of the forest of Lebanon[25].’ All the drinking-vessels, too, of this wonderful palace, which is always spoken of as ‘the house of the forest of Lebanon,’ were of pure gold, and its magnificence shows how highly the beautiful cedar-wood was valued.”
[24] I Kings vii. 2.
[25] I Kings x. 17.
CHAPTER XXII.
_THE PALMS_.
“There is a wonderful evergreen,” said Miss Harson, “which grows in tropical countries, and also in some sub-tropical countries, such as the Holy Land, and is said to have nearly as many uses as there are days in a year. You must tell me what it is when you have seen the picture.”
[Illustration: PALM TREE.]
Malcolm and Clara both pronounced it a palm tree, and Clara asked if there were any such trees growing in this country.
“Some of its relations are found on our Southern seacoast,” replied their governess; “South Carolina, you know, is called ‘the Palmetto State.’ There is a member of the family called the cabbage-palmetto, the unexpanded leaves of which are used as a table vegetable, which you may see in Florida. Its young leaves are all in a mass at the top, and when boiled make a dish something like cabbage. The leaves of the palmetto are also used, when perfect, in the manufacture of hats, baskets and mats, and for many other purposes. But its stately and majestic cousin, the date-palm of the East, with its tall, slender stalk and magnificent crown of feathery leaves, has had its praises sung in every age and clime. ‘Besides its great importance as a fruit-producer, it has a special beauty of its own when the clusters of dates are hanging in golden ripeness under its coronal of dark-green leaves. Its well-known fruit affords sustenance to the dwellers on the borders of the great African desert; it is as necessary to them as is the camel, and in many cases they may be said to owe their existence to it alone. The tree rears its column-like stem to the height of ninety feet, and its crown consists of fifty leaves about twelve feet in length and fringed at the edges like a feather. Between the leaf and the stem there issue several horny spathes, or sheaths, out of which spring clusters of panicles that bear small white flowers,’ These flowers are followed by the dates, which grow in a dense bunch that hangs down several feet.”
“But how do people manage to climb such a tree as that,” asked Malcolm, “to get the dates? It goes straight up in the air without any branches, and looks as if it would snap in two if any one tried it.”
“It does not snap, though, for it is very strong; and the climbing is easier than you imagine, even when the tree is a hundred feet high, as it sometimes is. The trunk, you see, is full of rugged knots. These projections are the remains of decayed leaves which have dropped off when their work was done. As the older leaves decay the stalk advances in height. It has not true wood, like most trees, but the stem has bundles of fibres that are closely pressed together on the outer part. Toward the root these are so entwined that they become as hard as iron and are very difficult to cut. The tree grows very slowly, but it lives for centuries. I have a Persian fable in rhyme for you, called
“‘THE GOURD AND THE PALM.
“‘”How old art thou?” said the garrulous gourd As o’er the palm tree’s crest it poured Its spreading leaves and tendrils fine, And hung a-bloom in the morning shine. “A hundred years,” the palm tree sighed.– “And I,” the saucy gourd replied,
“Am at the most a hundred hours, And overtop thee in the bowers.”
“‘Through all the palm tree’s leaves there went A tremor as of self-content.
“I live my life,” it whispering said, “See what I see, and count the dead;
And every year of all I’ve known A gourd above my head has grown
And made a boast like thine to-day, Yet here I stand; but where are they?”‘”
The children were very much pleased with the fable, and they began to feel quite an affection for the venerable and useful palm tree.
“The date tree,” continued their governess, “as this species of palm is often called, blossoms in April, and the fruit ripens in October. Each tree produces from ten to twelve bunches, and the usual weight of a bunch is about fifteen pounds. It is esteemed a crime to fell a date tree or to supply an axe intended for that purpose, even though the tree may belong to an enemy. The date-harvest is expected with as much anxiety by the Arab in the oasis as the gathering in of the wheat and corn in temperate regions. If it were to fail, the Arabs would be in danger of famine. The blessings of the date-palm are without limit to the Arab. Its leaves give a refreshing shade in a region where the beams of the sun are almost insupportable; men, and also camels, feed upon the fruit; the wood of the tree is used for fuel and for building the native huts; and ropes, mats, baskets, beds, and all kinds of articles, are manufactured from the fibres of the leaves. The Arab cannot imagine how a nation can exist without date-palms, and he may well regard it as the greatest injury that he can inflict upon his enemy to cut down his trees.”
“Miss Harson,” asked Edith, very earnestly, “isn’t the palm tree in the Bible?”
[Illustration: DATE-PALM AT JERICHO.]
“It certainly is, dear,” replied her governess, “and it is one of the trees most frequently mentioned. In Deuteronomy, thirty-fourth chapter, third verse, Jericho is called the ‘city of palm trees.’ Travelers still speak of these trees as yet growing in Palestine, but they are not nearly so abundant as they once were; near Jericho only one or two can be found. There are many allusions to the palm in the Scriptures. King David, in the ninety-second psalm, says that the righteous shall flourish like the palm tree: ‘Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall bring forth fruit in old age.’ The palm is always upright, in spite of rain or wind. ‘There it stands, looking calmly down upon the world below, and patiently yielding its large clusters of golden fruit from generation to generation. It brings forth fruit in old age.’ The allusion to being planted in the house of the Lord is probably drawn from the custom of planting beautiful and long-lived trees in the courts of temples and palaces. Solomon covered all the walls of the holy of holies round about with golden palm trees.–You will find this, Clara, in First Kings.”
Clara read:
“‘And he carved all the walls of the house round about with carved figures of cherubim and palm trees and open flowers, within and without[26].'”
[26] I Kings vi. 29.
“In the thirty-second verse,” continued Miss Harson, “it is written that he overlaid them with gold, ‘and spread gold upon the cherubim, and upon the palm trees.’ ‘They were thus planted, as it were, within the very house of the Lord; and their presence there was not only ornamental, but appropriate and highly suggestive–the very best emblem not only of patience in well-doing, but of the rewards of the righteous, a fat and flourishing old age, a peaceful end, a glorious immortality.'”
“What does a ‘palmer’ mean, Miss Harson?” asked Malcolm. “Is it a man who has palm trees or who sells dates? I saw the word in a book I was reading, but I couldn’t understand what it meant.”
“In olden times,” replied his governess, “when people made so many pilgrimages, some of the pilgrims went to the Holy Land and some to Rome and other places; but those who went to Palestine were thought to be the most devout, both because it was so much farther off and because there were so many sacred spots to visit there. These pilgrims always brought home with them branches of palm, to show that they had really been to the land where the tree grew; and so they were called _palmers_. To say that such-a-one was a palmer was far more than to say that he was a pilgrim.”
“Miss Harson,” said Clara, holding up one of the books, “here is a picture called ‘the cocoanut-palm,’ but I didn’t know that cocoanuts grew on palm trees. Will you tell us something about it?”
[Illustration: COCOANUT-PALM TREES IN SOUTH-EASTERN AFRICA.]
“Certainly I will, dear,” was the reply. “I fully intended to do so, for the cocoanut-palm is too valuable a member of the family to be passed over. This species does not grow in Palestine, and it is not one of the trees of the Bible; its home is in the warmest countries, and it grows most luxuriantly in the islands of the tropics or near the seacoast on the main-lands. Although its general form is similar to that of the date-palm, the foliage and fruit are quite different. The leaves are very much broader, and they have not the light, airy look of the foliage of the date-palm. But ‘the cocoanut-palm is the most valuable of Nature’s gifts to the inhabitants of those parts of the tropics where it grows, and its hundred uses, as they are not inaptly called, extend beyond the tropics over the civilized world. The beautiful islands of the southern seas are fringed with cocoanut-palms that encircle them as with a green and feathery belt. The ripe nuts drop into the sea, but, protected by their husks, they float away until the tide washes them on to the shore of some neighboring island, where they can take root and grow.'”
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” said Edith, “if some would float here?”
“A great many cocoanuts float here in ships,” replied Miss Harson, “but they would not take root and grow, because the climate is not suited to them; it is too cold for them. We cannot have tropical fruit without tropical heat, and I am sure that none of us would want such a change as that. You may sometimes see small cocoanut trees in hothouses or horticultural gardens, where they are shielded from our cold air. The island of Ceylon, in the East Indies, is full of cocoanut-palm trees, for they are carefully cultivated by the inhabitants, and the feathery groves stretch mile after mile. The tree shoots up a column-like stem to the height of a hundred feet, and is crowned with a tuft of broad leaves about twelve feet long. The flowers are yellowish white and grow in clusters, and the seed ripens into a hard nut which in its fibrous husk is about the size of an infant’s head.”
“I’ve seen the nut in its husk,” said Malcolm, “when papa took me down to the wharf where the ships come in. There were lots of cocoanuts, and some of ’em had their coats on.”
“This brown husk,” continued his governess, “is a valuable part of the nut, for the toughest ropes and cables are made of its fibres, as well as the useful brown matting so generally used to cover offices and passages. Brushes, nets and other domestic articles are also manufactured from the husk. Scarcely any other tree in the world is so useful to man or contributes so much to his comfort as the cocoanut-palm. Food and drink are alike obtained from it. The kernel of the nut is an article of diet, and can be prepared in many ways. The native is almost sustained by it, and in Ceylon it forms a part of nearly every dish. The spathe that encloses the yet-unopened flowers is made to yield a favorite beverage called palm-wine, or, more familiarly, ‘toddy.’ When the fresh juice is used, it is an innocent and refreshing drink; but when left to ferment, it intoxicates, and is the one evil result from the bountiful gifts of the tree. Oil is prepared in great quantities from the nuts and used for various purposes.”
“Are there any more kinds of palm trees?” asked the children.
“Yes,” was the reply; “there are a great many members of this most useful family, but the one that will interest you most, after the date-and cocoanut-palm, is, I think, the sago-palm.”
[Illustration: YOUNG COCOANUT TREE IN POT (_Cocos nucifera_).]
“Why, Miss Harson!” exclaimed Clara, in surprise; “does sago really grow on a tree?”
“It really grows _in_ a tree–for it is a kind of starch secreted by the tree for the use of its flowers and fruit–and in order to obtain it the tree has to be cut down. The pith is then taken out and cut in slices, soaked in water and roasted; and when it assumes the shape of the small globules in which we see it, it is ready for exportation.”
“Well!” said Malcolm; “I never knew _that_ before. We’ve learned ever so many things, Miss Harson.”
“There is one thing about the palm,” said Miss Harson, “which I have purposely left for the last–especially as it is the last also of our trees for the present–and that is the sacred associations which its branches have for both Jews and Christians. The Jews were commanded on the first day of the feast of tabernacles to ‘take the boughs of goodly trees, branches of palm trees, and the boughs of thick trees, and willows of the brook, to rejoice before the Lord their God.’ The palm was a symbol of victory, and branches of it were strewn in the path of conquerors, more especially of those who had fought for religious truth. It is the emblem of the martyr, as a conqueror through Christ. The Sunday before Easter is called Palm Sunday because in the ancient churches leaves of palm were carried that day by worshipers in memory of those strewn in the way on the triumphal entry of the King of Zion into Jerusalem. You will find it, Malcolm, in John.”
Malcolm read very reverently:
“‘On the next day, much people that were come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, took branches of palm trees, and went forth to meet him, and cried, Hosanna; Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord[27].'”
[27] John xii. 12, 13.
“Here,” said Miss Harson, “is a little hymn written on these very verses:
“‘See a small procession slowly
Toward the temple wind its way; In the midst rides, meek and lowly,
One whom angel-hosts obey.
“‘How the shouting crowd adore him, Now, for once, they know their King; Some their garments cast before him,
Green palm-branches others bring.
“‘Calmly, yet with holy sorrow,
Christ permits the sacrifice.
Knowing well that on the morrow
Changed will be those fickle cries.
* * * * *
“‘Children, when in prayers and praises Loudly we with lips adore,
While the heart no anthem raises, Are not we like those of yore?
“‘O Lord Jesus, let us never
Lift the voice in heartless songs; Help us to remember ever
All that to thy name belongs.'”