"Before we drop the topic of the rhinoceros," said the Doctor, "I must tell you about his horn, and some of the fables connected with it.
"It was formerly gravely stated that the horn of the rhinoceros was ordinarily flexible, like the trunk of an elephant, and became stiffened into a weapon only when the beast was enraged. The story probably arose from the fact, as I have before stated, that the horn is not attached to the nose, but rests on a basis of bone connected with the skin.
"The horn of the beast is a good substitute for ivory in some of its uses, and brings about half its price. It is used for making cups and other ornaments, and for the handles of knives and similar things. Shavings and scrapings of the horn were supposed to cure children of spasms and convulsions, and in former times it was supposed that cups of this material would detect the presence of poison. Several writers have affirmed this, and I believe the superstition still prevails among the Dutch settlers in Cape Colony. To show how this idea once prevailed let me quote from Kolbe, a German traveller and naturalist, who visited South Africa about two hundred years ago, and published an account of what he had seen in his wanderings.
"'This horn,' he says, 'will not endure the touch of poison. I have often been a witness of this. Many people of fashion at the Cape have cups turned out of this rhinoceros-horn; some have them set in silver, and some in gold. If wine is poured into one of these cups it immediately rises and bubbles up, as though it were boiling; and if there be poison in it the cup immediately splits. If poison be put into one of these cups it in an instant flies to pieces. Though this matter is known to thousands of persons, yet some writers have affirmed that the rhinoceros horn has no such virtue.'"
"There's a word in our language," said Fred, "which begins with the letter L, which might apply to Kolbe, the German traveller. But it isn't altogether a polite one, and so we'll call him a deliberate romancer."
"He ought to have a niche by the side of Sir John Mandeville and others of his kind," said Frank. "Sir John describes the cotton-plant as having eyes, ears, and horns, and bleating like a sheep; and he tells how he successfully tried the experiment of raising young diamonds from a pair of old ones, with other interesting experiences, which are set down with sober earnest.
"But you must remember," said the Doctor, "that in the time of these old travellers they had everything their own way, as they were in no danger of contradiction. Besides, the spirit of the age demanded something marvellous, and if a traveller came home and told the story of his journey without filling it with goblins, fairies, dragons, and similar impossible things, he was charged with having seen nothing, and quite likely his neighbors would assert that during all the time of his pretended absence he was remaining quietly at home.
"Nowadays the world is so well known that the romancing traveller is speedily detected, and his fictions meet a deserved exposure. Explorers follow each other so rapidly that no untruthful story can remain long without contradiction, and we may fairly conclude that the day of the marvellous in travellers' tales has substantially ended."
