Of all the cereals there is none that affords food to so vast a multitude as the rice-plant (Oryza sativa), on whose grains from time immemorial the countless millions of south-eastern Asia chiefly subsist. From its primitive seat, on the Ganges or the Sikiang, its cultivation has gradually spread not only over the whole tropical zone, but even far beyond its bounds, as it thrives both in the swamps of South Carolina and in the rich alluvial plains of the Danube and the Po.
Along the low river banks, in the delta-lands which the rains of the tropics annually change into a boundless lake, or where, by artificial embankments, the waters of the mountain streams have been collected into tanks for irrigation, the rice-plant attains its utmost luxuriance of growth, and but rarely deceives the hopes of the husbandmen.
The aspect of the lowland rice-fields of India and its isles is very different at various seasons of the year. Where, in Java, for instance, you see to-day long-legged herons gravely stalking over the inundated plain partitioned by small dykes, or a yoke of indolent buffaloes slowly wading through the mud, you will three or four months later be charmed by the view of a gracefully undulating corn-field, bearing a great resemblance to our indigenous barley. Cords, to which scare-crows are attached traverse the field in every direction, and converge, to a small watch-house, erected on high poles. Here the attentive villager sits, like a spider in the centre of its web, and by pulling the cords, puts them from time to time into motion, whenever the wind is unwilling to undertake the office. Then the grotesque and noisy figures begin to rustle and to caper, and whole flocks of the neat little rice-bird or Java sparrow (Loxia oryzivora), rise on the wing, and hurry off with all the haste of guilty fright. After another month has elapsed, and the waters have long since evaporated or been withdrawn, the harvest takes place, and the rice-fields are enlivened by a motley crowd, for all the villagers, old and young, are busy reaping the golden ears.
JAVA SPARROW.
The rice-fields offer a peculiarly charming picture when, as in the mountain valleys of Ceylon, they rise in terraces along the slopes. ‘Selecting an angular recess where two hills converge, the Kandyans construct a series of terraces, raised stage above stage, and retiring as they ascend along the slope of the acclivity, up which they are carried as high as the soil extends. Each terrace is furnished with a low ledge in front, behind which the requisite depth of water is retained during the germination of the seed, and what is superfluous is permitted to trickle down to the one below it. In order to carry on this peculiar cultivation the streams are led along the level of the hills, often from a distance of many miles, with a skill and perseverance for which the natives of these mountains have attained a great renown.’
Maize is no less important to the rapidly-growing nations of America than the rice-plant to the followers of Buddh or of Brama. The time when the cereals of the old world were first transplanted from their unknown Asiatic homes is, and ever will be, hidden in legendary obscurity; but the epoch when maize was for the first time seen and tasted by Europeans lies before us in the broad daylight of authentic history. For, when Columbus discovered Cuba, in the year 1492, he found maize cultivated by the Indians, and was equally pleased with the taste of the roasted grains and astonished at their size. In the following year, when he made his triumphant entry into Barcelona, and presented his royal patrons—Ferdinand and Isabella—with specimens of the various productions of the New World, the maize-spikes he laid down before their throne, though but little noticed, were in reality of far greater importance than the heaps of gold which were so falsely deemed to be the richest prizes of his grand discovery. In this manner maize was first conveyed from the New World to Spain, whence its cultivation gradually extended over the tropical and temperate zones of the eastern hemisphere. Round the whole basin of the Mediterranean, maize has found a new home, and its grain now nourishes the Lombard and the Hungarian, as it does the Egyptian fellah or the Syrian peasant.
While our northern cereals only produce a pleasing effect when covering extensive fields, but are individually too insignificant to claim attention, the maize-plant almost reminds the spectator of the lofty Bambusaceæ of the tropical world. Even in our gardens it rises above a man’s height, and in warmer countries not seldom attains the gigantic stature of fourteen feet. Ensiform, dark green, lustrous leaves, somewhat resembling those of the large oarweeds of the northern seas, spring alternately from every joint of this cereal, streaming like pennants and sharply rustling in the wind. The top produces a bunch of male flowers of various colours, which is called the tassel. Each plant likewise bears three or more spikes or ears, proceeding from the stem, at various distances from the ground, and closely enveloped by several thin leaves, forming a sheath, or husk. They consist of a cylindrical substance of the nature of pith, which is called the cobb, and over the entire surface of which the seeds are ranged and fixed, in eight or more straight rows. Each of these has generally as many as thirty or more seeds, and each seed weighs at least as much as five or six grains of wheat or barley. Surely a cereal like this deserves beyond all others to symbolise abundance, and, had it been known to the Greeks, it would beyond all doubt have figured conspicuously in the teeming horn of Amalthea.
In light sandy soils, under the scorching rays of the sun, and in situations where sufficient moisture cannot be obtained for the production of rice, numerous varieties of millet (Sorghum vulgare) are successfully cultivated in many tropical countries—in India, Arabia, the West Indies, in Central Africa, and in Nubia, where it is grown almost to the exclusion of every other esculent plant. Though the seeds are by much the smallest of any of the cereal plants, the number borne upon each stalk is so great as to counterbalance this disadvantage, and to render the cultivation of millet as productive as that of any other grain.
The bread-fruit tree is the great gift of Providence to the fairest isles of Polynesia. No fruit or forest tree in the north of Europe, with the exception of the oak or linden, is its equal in regularity of growth and comeliness of shape; it far surpasses the wild chestnut, which somewhat resembles it in appearance. Its large oblong leaves are deeply lobed like those of the fig-tree, which they resemble not only in colour and consistence, but also in exuding a milky juice when broken. About the time when the sun, advancing towards the Tropic of Capricorn, announces to the Tahitians that summer is approaching, it begins to produce new leaves and young fruits, which commence ripening in October, and may be plucked about eight months long in luxuriant succession. The fruit is about the size and shape of a new-born infant’s head, with a thin skin, and a core about as big as the handle of a small knife. The edible part, which lies between the skin and the core, and is as white as snow, must be roasted before it is eaten; its taste is insipid, with a slight sweetness, somewhat resembling that of the crumb of wheaten bread mixed with boiled potatoes. When the season draws to an end, the last fruits are laid in heaps, and closely covered with leaves. In this state they undergo a fermentation and become disagreeably sweet; the core is then taken out entire, which is done by gently pulling out the stalk, and the rest of the fruit is thrown into a hole, where it undergoes a second fermentation, and becomes sour, after which it will suffer no change for many months. It is taken out of the hole as it is wanted for use, and, being made into balls, it is wrapped up in leaves and baked.