The remarks of Arab writers on the distinction of sex in the palm-tree are nearly the same with those of Pliny; and a most extraordinary confirmation of it will be found in a Persian anecdote quoted by Silvestre de Sacy; from which it will clearly appear that an unrequited and secret attachment to a neighbouring date-tree had nearly caused the death of a too-susceptible female palm!
Osmai relates (says the story in question) that an inhabitant of Yemama, a province in Arabia, once made him the following recital. “I was possessor of a garden in which was a palm-tree, which had every year produced me abundance of fruit; but two seasons having passed away, without its affording any, I sent for a person well acquainted with the culture of palms, to discover for me the reason of this failure. “An unhappy attachment” (observed the man, after a moment’s inspection) “is the sole cause why this palm-tree produces no fruit!” He then climbed up the trunk, and, looking round on all sides, discovered a male palm at no great distance, which he recognised as the object of my unlucky tree’s affection; and advised me to procure some of the powder from its blossoms, and to scatter it over her branches. This I did (said the Arab,) and the consequence was, that my date-tree, whom unrequited love had kept barren, now bore me a most abundant harvest!”
The value of the palm-tree is not generally appreciated in Europe, but it is highly prized in Asia and Africa. The followers of Mahomet (as appears from Kazwini) believe it to be peculiar to those favoured countries where the religion of the Prophet is professed. “Honour the palm-tree,” (says this writer, in the words of Mahomet himself,) “for she is your father’s aunt;” and this distinction (he tells us) was given to it, because the tree was formed from the remainder of the clay of which Adam was created! It is propagated chiefly (as Shaw has informed us) from young shoots taken from the roots of full-grown trees, which, if well transplanted and taken care of, will yield their fruit in the sixth or seventh year; whereas those that are raised immediately from the kernels will not bear till about their sixteenth. Nothing further is necessary to the culture of the palm-tree, than that it should be well watered once in four or five days, and that a few of the lower boughs should be lopped away whenever they begin to droop or wither. “These” (observes Shaw), “whose stumps, or pollices, in being thus gradually left upon the trunk, serve, like so many rounds of a ladder, to climb up the tree, either to fecundate it, to lop it, or to gather the fruit, are quickly supplied with others which hang down from the crown or top, contributing not only to the regular and uniform growth of this tall, knotless, beautiful tree, but likewise to its perpetual and most delightful verdure. To be exalted (Eccles. xxiv. 14.) or to flourish like the palm-tree, are as just and proper expressions, suitable to the nature of this plant, as to spread abroad like the Cedar[4].”—(Psalm xcii. 11.)
In the immediate neighbourhood of the palm-trees above mentioned (we mean those to the N.E. of Bengazi) are the sand-hills, which form (together with the date-trees) the most remarkable objects on this part of the coast. The occasional mixture of a little manure with the sand, and the decay of vegetable matter, have contributed to produce at the foot of these hills a very excellent soil; portions of which are inclosed within hedges of the prickly-pear and aloe, and near them may be seen a few miserable huts, the abodes of the several proprietors. The chief produce of these little gardens may be stated to be—melons and pumpkins of several kinds, melonzani, or egg-plants, cucumbers, tomatas, red and green peppers, and some few of the plants called bàmia.
The sand itself, with a little labour, is also made to produce very abundantly; so much so, that any one who had seen the place only in the summer time, would scarcely recognise it as the same in the winter season, when covered with luxuriant vegetation. The right of cultivation appears to be general; and a piece of ground may be said to belong to the first person who takes the trouble of inclosing and working it. This, in fact, is no more than just; since the cultivated tracts, in this part of the plain, are merely so many portions rescued from the sandy waste by the industry of the individuals who select them; and must therefore be considered as so many additions made by the original occupiers to the general stock[5].
The first care of the cultivator is to turn up the sand, and spread layers of faggots underneath: the sand is then replaced, and over it is sometimes spread a mixed stratum of sand and manure.
Upon this the seeds are sown, and care is taken to keep the land irrigated by means of numerous wells of a few feet only in depth. Some of these are built round with rough stones, but the water is always brackish, and occasionally stinking, owing to the quantity of decayed roots, and other vegetable matter, with which they are suffered to be clogged. By the adoption of this short and simple process, the sand is soon rendered so productive, that the Arabs prefer cultivating it, to the trouble of clearing the rich soil beyond it, to the southward, of the broken stones and fragments of building with which it is thickly interspersed.
When the rains had subsided, and the health of Lieutenant Beechey (which had latterly prevented him from travelling) allowed of it, we set out on our journey to Carcora; in order to complete that part of the coast which had been left unfinished between Carcora and Bengazi: two of our party had before made a trip, along the coast, to Ptolemeta, and returned in high spirits with what they had met with in that delightful part of the Pentapolis. On our route to Carcora we had been very much annoyed with a violent and parching sirocco wind, the heat of which would have been sufficiently disagreeable and oppressive, without the extreme annoyance of thick clouds of sand, whirling everywhere in eddies about us, which were driven with such force into our eyes as almost to prevent our making use of them.
Having completed the unfinished part of the coast-line, we returned back to Bengazi, and found everything prepared for our journey to the eastward, through the diligence and activity of Lieutenant Coffin, who had been left at Bengazi for that purpose. During our absence at Carcora, Bey Halil had left the town, and pitched his tents in the fine plain of Merge, a large tract of table-land on the top of the mountains which bound Teuchira and Ptolemeta to the southward. The object of his journey was to collect the tribute from the neighbouring Bedouin tribes, and this is generally a work of much time and trouble, without which the contribution would not be paid at all. We had previously arranged with him that Hadood, Shekh of Barka, should have camels in readiness (on our return from Carcora) to carry our tents and baggage to the westward; but finding they had not arrived, we with difficulty procured others, and set out from Bengazi on the seventeenth of April for Teuchira, Ptolemeta, and Cyrene.
The road from Bengazi to Teuchira and Ptolemeta lies through a very fertile and beautiful country, though a comparatively small portion of it only is cultivated. It may be described as a plain, thickly covered with wood and flowering shrubs, stretching itself from the sea to the foot of the mountains which form the northern limits of the Cyrenaica, and narrowing every mile as you advance towards Ptolemeta, where the mountains run down very close to the sea. We have already stated that the space between this range and Bengazi is about fourteen geographic miles; and the distance between it and the sea, at Ptolemeta, is no more than a mile, or a mile and a half; the whole length of the plain, from Bengazi to Ptolemeta, being fifty-seven geographic miles. The sides of the mountains are also thickly clothed with wood, chiefly pine, of various kinds, and the juniper is found in great quantities among the other shrubs which overspread them.