One evening after I had been reading for some time, I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. That part of the house was dark and quiet, and as I stepped through the doorway, I heard low, musical voices, apparently in the pantry. I was very much surprised, you may be sure, and I kept perfectly still, and listened.
"Yes," said a voice, which I could barely hear, "I am a long way from home indeed, and sometimes it makes me quite lonely when I think of it."
"Tell us about your home, and how you lived," said another low voice.
"Well," began the first speaker, "my name is Pepper. With twenty-five or thirty brothers and sisters I grew in a cluster on a vine. We were but a small part of the family, for there were similar clusters all over our vine. We were about as large as peas, and grew somewhat after the fashion of currants.
"All about were other vines to which friends and relatives were attached. Pepper vines are always anxious to get to the top, and so some of these vines climbed trees and some twined themselves about poles, which men had set in the ground for this purpose. Our vine was three or four years old when we appeared on it."
"How long did you live on the vine?" asked a voice that I had not heard before.
"Only a few months," replied Pepper. "You see, we had to make room for another set of berries. Two sets appear each year for twenty years or more.
"Under the influence of the tropical sunshine and the warm rains we grew day by day, and we were as happy as the butterflies and birds about us. By and by we began to turn red. All of this time a hull or coat was forming on the outside of our bodies.
"Before we became entirely red, workmen came to the field, and, by rubbing us between their hands, separated us from the stems to which we lovingly clung.
"After having been picked, I was, with many others, placed upon a mat to dry. These mats were all about us, each covered with berries. After being thoroughly dried we were put into a mill and ground, and I became what I am now, Black Pepper."