QUEER RELATIONS: THE CAOUTCHOUC AND THE MILK TREE

“What dark, strange-looking trees!” exclaimed the children while looking at an illustration of caoutchouc trees in Brazil. “How thick and strong they are! And what funny tops! like pointed umbrellas.”

“The India-rubber tree is not likely to be mistaken for any other,” said their governess, “and it does not look very dark and gloomy in that forest, where everything seems to be crowded close and in a tangle, because South American vegetation grows so thickly and rapidly. This is the country which supplies the largest quantity of India-rubber. Immense cargoes are shipped from the town of Para, on the river Amazon, and obtained from the Siphonia elastica.”

“Are the stems all made of India-rubber?” asked Edith, who thought that was exactly what they looked like.

“Are the stems of the maple trees made of maple-sugar?” replied Miss Harson. “The India-rubber is got from its tree as the sugar is from the maple tree. It is taken from the trunk in the shape of a very thick milky fluid, and it is said that no other vital fluid, whether in animal or in plant, contains so much solid material within it; and it is a matter of surprise that the sap, thus encumbered, can circulate through all the delicate vessels of the tree. Tropical heat is required to form the caoutchouc; for when the tree is cultivated in hothouses, the substance of the sap is quite different. The full-grown trees are very handsome, with round column-like trunks about sixty feet high, and the crown of foliage is said to resemble that of the ash.”

“Did people always know about India-rubber?” asked Clara.

“No indeed! It is not more than a hundred and fifty years perhaps not so long since it was a great curiosity; so that a piece half an inch square would sell in London for nearly a dollar of our money, but now it comes in shiploads, and a pound of it costs less than quarter of that sum. It is used for so many purposes that it seems as if the world could never have gone on without it. All sorts of outside garments to keep out the rain are made of it. Waterproof cloaks are called macintoshes in England because this was the name of the person who invented them. India-rubber is also used for tents and many other things, and, as water cannot get through it, there is a great saving of trouble and expense.”

“It must be splendid for tents,” said Malcolm; “no one need care, when snug under cover, whether or not it rained in the woods.”

“People do care, though,” was the reply, “for they expect, when in the woods, to live out of doors; but the India-rubber is certainly a great improvement on tents that get soaked through.”

“I like it,” said Edith, “because it rubs things out. When I draw a house and it’s all wrong, my piece of India-rubber will take it away, and then I can make another one on the paper.”

“That is the very smallest of its uses,” replied Miss Harson, smiling at the little girl’s earnestness, “and yet we find it a great convenience. An English writer, speaking of it when it was first known in England, said that he had seen a substance that would efface from paper the marks of a black-lead pencil, and he thought it must be of use to those who practiced drawing.”

“How funny that sounds!” exclaimed Malcolm. “Why, I couldn’t get along without my India-rubber when I make mistakes,”

“You might,” said his governess, “if you had some stale bread to rub with; for people have gotten along without a great many things which they now think necessary.”

“Miss Harson,” said Clara, “won’t you tell us, please, how they get the caoutch whatever it is and make it into India-rubber?”

“I will,” was the laughing reply, “when you can say the word properly. C-a-o-u-t-c-h-o-u-c koochook.”

As Clara said, Miss Harson made things so easy to understand! and in a very short time the hard word was mastered.

“As I have never seen the sap gathered,” continued the young lady, “I shall have to read you an account of it, instead of telling you from my own experience; but the description is so plain that I think we shall all be able to understand it very well: ’At certain seasons of the year the natives visit some islands in the river Amazon that for many months are covered with water. As soon as the water subsides and a footing can be obtained the Indians arrive in parties, to seek for the trees. The Indian who comes every morning to collect the juice from the trunk has a number of trees allotted to him, and goes the round of the whole. The previous night he has made a long, deep cut in the bark of each and hung an earthen vessel beneath, to receive the thick, creamlike substance that trickles down. The vessel is filled by morning, and he pours the contents into one much larger and carries it to his hut. He is provided with a number of moulds of different shapes and sizes, and he dips them into the juice and puts them aside to dry. They are then dipped again, and the process is continued until the coat of India-rubber on the mould is of sufficient thickness. It is made black by passing it through the smoke of burning palm-nuts. The moulds are broken and taken out, leaving the India-rubber ready for sale, and pretty much as we used to see it in the shops before the people of this country had learned how to work it.’”

“That seems easy enough,” said Malcolm, “but how do they make it into gutta-percha?”

“Gutta-percha is not made,” replied his governess, “and it is taken from an entirely different tree, the Icosandra gutta, which grows in Southern Asia. The milky fluid is procured in the same way, but it is placed in vessels to evaporate, and the solid substance left at the bottom is the gutta-percha. It is not elastic, like India-rubber, and is called ‘vegetable leather’ because of its toughness and leathery appearance. It was discovered by an English traveler a long time before it was supposed to have any useful properties, but now it is considered a very valuable material. The wonderful submarine telegraph could not convey its messages between the Old World and the New were not its wires protected from injury by a coating of gutta-percha. Its unyielding nature and its not being elastic render it the very material needed. The long straps used in working machines are also made of gutta-percha, and this is another instance where its non-elasticity gives it the preference over India-rubber.”

“And what is vulcanite?” asked Clara.

“It is caoutchouc mixed with sulphur. Unless a small quantity of brimstone is added in the manufacture of overshoes, they become soft when exposed to heat and hardened when exposed to cold; but it was discovered that the sulphur will keep them from being affected by changes in temperature. When a large amount of sulphur is used, the India-rubber, becomes as hard as horn or wood, and this is the substance called vulcanite. Now the gum is imported in masses, to be wrought over by our skillful mechanics.”

The children were very much pleased to find that they had learned the nature of three important articles India-rubber, gutta-percha and vulcanite and they thought it would be quite easy to remember the differences between them.

“And now,” said Miss Harson, “the last of these useful trees the cow tree, or milk tree is the most curious one of all. Like the caoutchouc, it is a native of South America; but the sap is a rich fluid that answers for food, like milk. It is a fine-looking tree with oblong, pointed leaves about ten inches in length and a fleshy fruit containing one or two nuts. The sap is the most valuable part; and when incisions are made in the trunk of the tree, there is an abundant flow of thick milk-like sap, which is described as having an agreeable and balmv smell. The German traveler Humboldt drank it from the shell of a calabash, and the natives dip their bread of maize or cassava in it. This milk is said to be very fattening; and when exposed to the air, it thickens into a substance which the people call cheese.”

“Milk and cheese from a tree!” exclaimed Malcolm. “Do you think we’d like them as well as ours, Miss Harson?”

“No,” was the reply, “I do not think we should; but if we had never known any other kind, it would be quite a different matter, and the traveler says that both smell and taste are agreeable. The sap, it seems, is like curdled milk, and the natives say that they can tell, from the thickness and color of the foliage, the trunks that yield the most juice. This wonderful tree will be found growing on the side of a barren rock, and its large, woody roots can scarcely penetrate into the stone. For several months of the year not a single shower moistens its foliage. Its branches then appear dead and dried; but when the trunk is pierced, there flows from it a sweet and nourishing milk. It is at the rising of the sun that this vegetable fountain is most abundant. The negroes and natives are then seen hastening from all quarters, furnished with large bowls to receive the milk, which grows yellow and thickens at its surface. Some empty their bowls while under the tree itself; others carry the juice home to their children.”

“Isn’t it funny,” said Edith, laughing, “to go and get their breakfasts from a tree? I wish we had some milk trees here.”

“But you would not find it pleasant,” replied their governess, “to have some other things that are always found where the milk tree grows. The intense heat and the swarms of mosquitoes and biting flies, the serpents and jaguars and other disagreeable and dangerous creatures, make life in that region anything but pleasant, and the curious vegetation and delicious fruits are not worth the suffering inflicted by all these torments.”

On hearing of these drawbacks the children soon decided that their own dear home was the best, and no longer envied the possessors even of the cow tree.