THE PALM | AdventAI

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jun 17, 1889

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 15, No. 23.

THE PALM.

And there the poets, in thy praise, Should night and morning frame new lays,— New measures sung to tunes divine; But none, O palm, should equal mine! —Bayard Taylor.

LINNÆUS, the great botanist, has not inaptly called palms "the princes of the vegetable world." The most perfect of the order have a tall, cylindrical stem, which shoots upward from the earth, without knot or blemish, springing to an immense height, and yet so symmetrical that its slenderness conveys no idea of feebleness. The summit bears a crown of emerald green plumes, like a diadem of gigantic ostrich feathers; these are frequently twenty feet long, droop slightly at the ends, and rustle musically in the breeze. In the desert it forms an object of peculiar beauty, as it soars, erect and graceful, near some welcome spring of living water, a landmark to the wayworn traveler. Under the natural screen which the thick green feathery branches supply, the orange and the lemon, the pomegranate, the olive, the almond, and the vine, flourish in wild luxuriance, and pour forth an abundance of luscious fruit.

The valley of the Amazon rejoices in an infinite variety of these beautiful trees. Among them a foremost place must be given to the fan-leaved palm, which abound in the islets and on the banks of the mighty river and its tributaries. Their stems are huge, smooth cylinders, three feet in diameter, and about a hundred feet high. Their crowns consist of enormous clusters of fan-shaped leaves, whose stalks alone measure seven to ten feet in length.

Humboldt christened the fan-leaved palm, the "Tree of Life." It is the chief, almost the only, nourishment, he says, of the unconquered nation of the Guaranis, at the mouth of the Orinoco, who skillfully stretch their mats—woven from the nerves of the leaves—from one trunk to another, and during the rainy season, when the delta is inundated, live like apes in the tops of the trees.

These habitations are partially roofed with mud; the women light their household fires on a flooring of the same material; and the traveler, ascending the river at night, gazes astonished on the hundred spiral shafts of flame and smoke which seem kindled in the very air!

It is astonishing to what a variety of uses the Amazonian Indians apply the palm. It provides them with house, food, drink, raiment, salt, implements, weapons, fishing tackle, and even musical instruments. The rafters of their huts are formed, perhaps, of straight and uniform palm; another kind is brought into requisition for the roof; and the split stems of a third species furnish the doors and frame-work. The wide bark which grows beneath the fruit of another species is woven into an apron. The comb with which many of the natives adorn their heads is made from palm wood, and their fish-hooks from its spines. Caps for the head and cloth for the loins are manufactured from the spathes of the palm. These, too, supply the native with his hammock and bowstrings. Various species of palms yield oil and edible fruit; from eight kinds an intoxicating liquor can be distilled; and from the palm, by burning its small nuts, he procures a substitute for salt. From the spinous processes of one variety he makes his arrows, and arms himself with lances and harpoons from another. The long blowpipe through which he hurls the envenomed dart at birds and animals comes from the palm; from the stems of various trees he fashions the harsh, bassoon-like musical instrument employed in his worship; and, finally, the great woody spathes provide him with cooking vessels.

In Ceylon and Malabar one of the principal palms is the remarkable umbrella-bearing palm. It is straight as a giant's spear, five feet in circumference at the base, and tapering towards the summit, where it terminates in a magnificent crown of enormous palmate plaited leaves. Each leaf, near the outer margin, is divided into numerous segments, and united to the trunk by spiny leaf stalks. It usually measures about eighteen feet in length, exclusive of the leaf stalk, and about fourteen feet in breadth; so that a single leaf will form an excellent canopy for a score of men.

Vegetable ivory, now manufactured into many ornamental articles, is the hardened albumen of the corosso. It is clear and liquid at first, then milky and sweet, and finally solid.

Wax is obtained from several species of the palmaceæ.

From the calamus verus we obtain the well-known canes called rattans; and the sago palm, which flourishes in the swampy districts of the East, supplies us with a farinaceous food of great value. A native of Victoria, Australia, yields a profusion of fan-shaped leaves, which are employed in the manufacture of straw hats.

The palm oil, largely used in the manufacture of soap and candles, and in the preparation of the peculiar compound with which the wheels of railway cars are greased, is expressed from the nuts of the Elais palm, a native of Guinea. The catechu palm yields the celebrated betel nuts, so largely masticated by the Hindoos. From these nuts our chemists obtain an astringent decoction, useful in dyspepsia and many other diseases.

What would become of the wanderer in the deserts of Arabia and Barbary if Providence suddenly decreed the extinction of the date palm?—Thousands of human beings would inevitably perish, for the inhabitants of Fezzan live wholly upon its saccharine and delicious fruit for nine months in the year. In Egypt, Arabia, and Persia it forms the principal food of the people, and a man's wealth is computed by the number of date palms he possesses. When dried, the fruit becomes an important commercial staple. Cakes of dates pounded and kneaded until solid enough to be cut with a hatchet, supply the provision of the African caravans on their toilsome journey through the sun-lighted Sahara. The young leaves, or palm cabbage, are eaten by the Persians and Arabs. The date stones, or seeds, are roasted as a substitute for coffee, or ground for the sake of their oil, and the residuum given as food to cattle. Bags and mats are made out of the leaves; the fibers supply a rude, rough cordage; and the leaf stalks, all kinds of basket and wicker work.

The date palm is the palm tree alluded to in Scripture, and in the oasis of the Great Desert springs up, a fountain of life, for the refreshment of the traveler.

In Egypt we meet with the Doum palm, a tree of shorter stature, but remarkable for the repeated forkings of its stems. From the sweet and yet pungent flavor of its fruit, it has been properly called the gingerbread tree.

What the date palm is to the Arab the cocoanut palm is to the Polynesian. It is the crown and glory of the coral islets which stud the sapphire expanse of the Pacific Ocean.

The uses of this tree are manifold, and its valuable properties claim man's gratitude. Its hard, agate-like, polished timber, known as palmyra and porcupine wood, is prized by the cabinet maker; the hard nut which incloses its fruit, the savage carves into handsome bowls and goblets; the milky liquid within has a sweet and delicious flavor, and is very wholesome, refreshing, and digestible; the fibrous husk can be woven into sails and cordage, or used for stuffing mats and cushions; the terminal bud, or palm cabbage, is delicate eating; the central part of the stem, when young, affords a sweet and excellent food; the fermented sap yields the spirituous liquor so well known as arrack; the dried leaves can be employed for thatch; and every boy knows that the nut itself is a popular and justly-prized dainty.

Commercially speaking, the most valuable product of this all-important tree is the oil or butter obtained from its kernel, and largely used in Europe in the manufacture of candles. In the East it is employed as an unguent, and for illuminating purposes. It is liquid in tropical climates, but in colder temperatures solidifies into a white, butter-like oil. Compression separates it into a more liquid part called olein, and a more solid part known as cocosin, or cocostearin.

The cocoa palm ripens in about seven years, and continues productive for seventy

or eighty, each tree bearing annually from eighty to one hundred nuts.

What rice is to the Hindoo, what wheat is to the European, is the banana to the inhabitants of the tropical islands. They would perish without it, or be reduced to feed, like the beasts, on the herbage of the fields. But the banana supplies them with a wholesome and abundant food, with a pleasant drink, with a valuable medicine, with materials for clothing, in a word, with almost all the necessaries of their simple and easily contented life. It is now understood to be a variety of the plantain.—W. H. D. A., in Sunday Afternoon.