Kitabı oku: «Birds and all Nature Vol VII, No. 3, March 1900», sayfa 5

"NOT A SPARROW FALLETH."

GRANVILLE OSBORNE

NO traveler in Palestine, the land of sacred memories, will need an introduction to the sparrows. They are as tame, troublesome, vivacious, and impertinent, as their numerous progeny across the seas. They chirp and twitter, asserting their rights of possession in places where they are not welcome, industriously building their nests in every available nook and corner, and defending them fearlessly against every feathered encroacher. They stop up the stove-pipes and water-gutters with their rubbish, build nests in the windows, and under the eaves of the roofs, and have not the least reverence for any place or thing. You see them perching on the loftiest spires of the Holy City, flitting in and out of minaret and tower, wherever an opening invites them to a place of security and shelter for rearing their young. They nest in great numbers in the bushes on the banks of the River Jordan, and band together in defending their nests against the rooks and crows that infest the cane-brakes north of Lake Hulah. They live on terms of great amity and friendliness with the beautiful "wŭr-war" or bee-eater, which burrows in the soft earth-banks near the out-go of the Jordan, from the Lake of Galilee. The nests of sparrow and "wŭr-war" are so numerous and easy to reach that one might easily gather a peck of their tiny eggs, and unfledged nestlings, with mother-bird and all, could they be of use. But the Mosaic Law has a precept especially intended to protect the "birds of the air." In one portion of the inspired text he writes: "If a bird's nest chances to be before thee in the way, in any tree, or on the ground, whether they be young ones or eggs, and the dam sitting upon the young, or upon the eggs, thou shalt not molest the dam with the young, that it may be well with thee, and that thou mayest prolong thy days." You will notice how clear is the precept by which we are forbidden to molest these nests. We must not, the biblical law says, and to the obedient is the promised blessing of prosperity and long life, with contrary calamities clearly implied to those who transgress. In its meaning this precept includes all birds, and was intended, like many other prohibitory commands, to cultivate sentiments of humanity and habits of gentleness. And so it is that in Bible lands the sparrow is more numerous, and less liable to destruction, than in our own streets, fields and parks, where every bird of this species is an object of contempt, and often lured to its death, with countless thousands of victims, unsuspecting and easily taken like himself.

They flit over the "field of the Shepherds," and build nests in the "cave of the Nativity." They cover the fields of wild oats by thousands, and chirp and twitter on the hillside where "Ruth went down to glean." A colony will be found in every old tree on the Mount of Olives, and even in the "garden of Gethsemane," they nest in perfect security above the heads of the black-robed attendants, who are on terms of great familiarity with them. The first reference to the sparrow in the Bible is an allusion to this habit of the fearless bird in building its nest in the most sacred places. It recalls the sad and pathetic period in David's life, when he fled from Jerusalem pursued by the army of his son Absalom, "who sought his throne and life." Afar from Jerusalem, and the temple courts, where he led the people in their devotions, his heart longed for the peace and holy calm, to be found only within their sacred enclosures, and he says: "A day in thy courts is better than a thousand." "My soul longeth for thy courts." "The sparrow hath found a nest for herself where she may lay her young, even thine altars." Thus he, the great King David, wished for the rest and peace enjoyed by the humble birds which he had observed so often, ministering to their young about the holy altar itself. Again, when Absalom falls in battle, and word is brought David, in the sadness of his lament, "O, Absalom, my son, my son!" He compares himself to the tiny, despised bird, saying: "I watch and am as a sparrow, alone upon the housetop." He had, no doubt, often seen the sparrow, when one had lost its mate, sitting on the housetop alone, and lamenting hour after hour its sad bereavement. So again the sparrow is honored above its fellows, and its affectionate devotion immortalized. But a "Greater than David," has drawn from this humblest one of the feathered tribe, a lesson of trust which has touched tenderly, in all ages since, the heart of every seeker after truth. "Not a sparrow falleth" is a sentence that comes very close to the human heart. "Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without your Father. Not one of them is forgotten of Him. Fear not, therefore. Ye are of more value than many sparrows."

 
"Not a sparrow falleth,"
How sweet the words and true
"Without your Father's notice,"
Who careth still for you;
O tiny bird, so trustful,
Teach me such trust as thine,
That so the wondrous lesson
I may possess as mine.
 

THE TREATING OF WHITEY

BERTHA SEAVEY SAUNIER

HIS coat was thin – so thin that his skin showed through in patches. And the skin was thin – so thin that the bones almost pricked through in a mute appeal to the public.

He walked the streets until his four little feet dragged with weariness and he often sat down upon his haunches to rest.

When he stopped people noticed him and many turned as they went past, watching him – he was so pitiable a sight.

"Mangy dog," somebody said, but he was more than that. He was lost and he was starving. He was so needy that he had forsaken his alley haunts and had come up to the boulevards where was greater prosperity, sunshine, cleanliness, and perhaps love toward man and beast.

In his walks he chanced near the lake and paced the viaduct that leads out upon the pier. He even went on the pier and looked down into the dark water as many despairing men and women have looked. It seemed easy to fall in, but he turned back and walked away. He had learned that if he kept moving the police and guards did not poke at him with their clubs.

In crossing Michigan avenue he had to watch his chances, for the rubber tires of the carriages made no warning sound on the asphalt. And then he came to Wabash – the noise of the elevated and surface trains, and of the trucks and drays was so confusing that he had need of more care than ever. At length he reached State street and sat down to rest.

Lizzie and Mattie were there before him. They, too, were acquainted with alley ways, though they were not personally acquainted with Whitey. Evidently they had found nourishment there that Whitey had missed, for Lizzie was decidedly fat and Mattie was fairly presentable.

Lizzie wore a faded worsted skirt poorly joined to a cotton shirt-waist with a green silk belt. Her short, fair hair was curled and tied with a green ribbon and her airy straw hat was bright with flowers. Other little girls of better fortunes had worn the things and had extracted their freshness and much of their beauty. But Lizzie felt quite dressed up beside her friend who wore only a simple calico gown and plain straw hat. She led Mattie from window to window, pointing out precious articles and rare jewels, quite as if she had purse connections with them.

The girls glanced at Whitey as he passed.

"Poor little dog!" Mattie said.

"Yes," returned Lizzie, "I should think the policeman would shoot him."

"Why?" queried Mattie in surprise.

"Oh, he's so bad off."

Whitey was moving slowly. He was rested and he thought to go on.

Somebody in a confectionery store noticed the girls.

"Mamma, I do believe that's my old belt that I threw in the rags one day, for there's the cross I made on it at school with ink."

"Nonsense," said the lady.

"And, oh, mamma, look at the poor dog!"

Of all the people who were passing four at least were interested in Whitey. Alley and avenue – but the alley folks first forgot him. They went back to their diamonds.

Whitey's troubles had made him meek and humble. He did not at this time expect anything and he was out of hopes and plans. He did not observe any whisperings at the portals of the big store nor see the wonder on the face of the porter. What he did see presently was a round pasteboard box that the porter set down under his very nose. It was torn a little at one side and what was in the box began to melt and run down to the pavement.

Whitey moved his ears a little at the sight. It actually looked eatable. He doubted if it was, but he put out his tongue and touched it.

When Lizzie and Mattie turned again they stood amazed. People were looking amused as they passed and many a heart was made glad and light. One could read it in their faces. An unusual kindness is a love-flash that makes life sweeter to all who get it in their eyes.

"I'll bet there's a quart there," said Mattie.

"No, there ain't nuther. I guess a sick dog couldn't eat a hull quart of ice cream – it's jest a pint."

"Look how he licks it up. My! I'll bet it's good!"

"He's a gulpin' to beat the band," returned Lizzie.

"He never hed it before, I'll bet."

"Or you nuther, Mattie Black."

"You can't talk much," answered Mattie.

By this time Whitey had cleared up his spread pretty thoroughly. Not a drop lingered in the circle at the bottom of the box and the pavement was dry.

Whitey walked over to the side of the building and lay down in the sun. He put his nose between his paws. His body was as thin and forlorn as ever, but away at the tip of his pink, shabby tail was a little, short-lived wag. It was the language of gratitude and hope. It had been absent for days – ever since he was lost. The little girl who had caused it was riding home in her carriage, but the alley folks took note of it and they were appeased. They no longer envied the dog.

As for Whitey, the rich cream worked its work. As he lay in the sun he felt new hopes and plans revive. Of a sudden he remembered a bakery where he had chanced to get some plate scrapings. He would go again. And go he did. His body and his hopes were alike nourished with his recent treat. Whitey actually walked over to the bakery alley with a decided and prolonged wag to his tail. The ice cream had placed it there. It really made the turning point for better times for Whitey.

THE POPPY

(Papaver somniferum L.)

DR. ALBERT SCHNEIDER,

Northwestern University School of Pharmacy

 
Sleep hath forsook and given me o'er
To death's benumbing opium as my only cure.
 

– Milton, S. A. l. 630.

THE opium-yielding plant or poppy is an herb about three feet in height; stem of a pale green color covered with a bloom. Branches are spreading, with large, simple, lobed or incised leaves. The flowers are solitary, few in number, quite large and showy. The four large petals are white or a pale pink color in the wild-growing plants. The fruit is a large capsule, one to three inches in diameter, of a depressed globular form. The seeds are small and very numerous, filling the compartments of the capsule. In spite of the general attractiveness of the plant, the size of the flowers and the delicate coloring of its petals, it is not a favorite at close range because of a heavy, nauseating odor which emanates from all parts of the plant, the flowers in particular. The petals furthermore have only a very temporary existence, dropping off at the slightest touch.

The wild ancestor of our familiar garden poppy is supposed to be a native of Corsica, Cyprus, and the Peloponnesian islands. At the present time it is extensively cultivated everywhere, both as an ornamental plant and for its seeds, pods, and yield of opium. It has proven a great nuisance as a weed in the grain fields of England, India, and other countries – something like mustard in the oat fields of the central states. There are a number of forms or varieties of the cultivated poppy. The red poppy, corn poppy, or rose poppy (Papaver Rhoeas) is very abundant in southern and central Europe and in western Asia. It has deep red or scarlet petals and is a very showy plant. The long headed poppy (P. dubium) has smaller flowers of a lighter red color and elongated capsules, hence the name. The Oriental poppy (P. orientale) has very large, deep red flowers on a tall flower-stalk.

Various plants belonging to other genera of the poppy-family (Papaveraceæ) are designated as poppy. The California poppy (Eschscholzia Californica) is a very common garden plant. It has showy yellow flowers and much divided leaves. Horn poppy (Glaucium luteum) is a rather small seaside plant, with long curved pods and solitary yellow flowers. The Mexican prickly poppy (Argemone Mexicana) is widely distributed. The pods and leaves are prickly, flowers yellow or white; the seeds yield an oil which is used as a cathartic. Spatling or frothy poppy (Silene inflata) is so-called because when punctured by insects or otherwise it emits a spittle-like froth. Tree poppy (Dendromecon rigidum) is a shrub six to eight feet high, with large, bright yellow flowers. Welsh poppy (Mecanopsis cambrica), a plant found in the wooded and rocky parts of western Europe, has sulphur-yellow flowers and is cultivated for ornament.

The use and cultivation of the poppy dates from very remote times. The plant was well known in the time of the eminent Greek poet Homer, who speaks of the poppy juice as a dispeller of sorrows (Odyssey, IV. l. 220). According to Plinius the word poppy (Papaver) is derived from papa, meaning pap, the standard food of infants, because poppy juice was added to it for the purpose of inducing sleep. The ending ver is from verum, meaning true; that is, this food was the true sleep-producing substance. Opium, the inspissated juice of the poppy pods, was apparently not known in the time of Hippocrates, only the freshly expressed juice being used. It is through Diocles Karystius (350 B. C.) that we obtain the first detailed information regarding the use of opium. Nicandros (150 B. C.) refers to the dangerous effects produced by this drug. Scribonius Largus, Dioscorides, Celsus, and Plinius gave us the first reports regarding the origin, production, and adulteration of opium. Plinius mentions the method of incising the capsules. The Arabians are said to have introduced opium into India. It appeared in Europe during the middle ages, but was apparently in little demand. It was much more favorably received in the Orient. In 1500 it constituted one of the most important export articles of Calcutta. India supplied China with large quantities of opium, at first only for medicinal purposes. It is said that the Chinese acquired the habit of smoking opium about the middle of the seventeenth century, and since then it has ever been the favorite manner of consuming it.

The poppy is cultivated in temperate and tropical countries. The opium yield of plants grown in temperate climates is, however, much less than that of the subtropical and tropical countries, though the quality is about the same. There are large poppy plantations in India, China, Asia Minor, Persia, and Turkey. As already indicated, the white-flowered variety is quite generally cultivated because it yields the most opium.

The plants are grown from seed, and it is customary, in tropical countries, to sow several crops each season to insure against failure and that collecting may be less interrupted. Plants of the spring sowing flower in July. The pods do not all mature at the same time; this, coupled with the sowing of several crops at intervals of four to six months, makes the work of collecting almost continuous. Before the pods are fully developed they are incised horizontally or vertically with a knife. Generally a special knife with two and three parallel blades is used. The blades of the knife are repeatedly moistened with saliva to prevent the poppy juice from adhering to them. The incisions must not extend through the walls of the capsule, as some of the juice would escape into the interior and be lost. As soon as the incisions are made a milky sap exudes, which gradually thickens, due to the evaporation of moisture, and becomes darker in color. The following day the sticky, now dark-brown juice, is scraped off and smeared on a poppy leaf held in the left hand; more and more juice is added until a goodly sized lump is collected. These sticky, ill-smelling masses of opium are now placed in a shaded place to dry. The entire process of incising and collecting as carried on by the Orientals is exceedingly uncleanly. To the nasty habit of moistening the knife-blade with saliva is supplemented the filth of unwashed hands and the sand and dirt of the poppy leaves, which are added from time to time to form a new support for the juice as it is removed from the knife. In scraping the gum considerable epidermal tissue is also included. Each lump of gum opium contains therefore a mixture of spittle, the filth of dirty hands, poppy leaves, sand, and dust. In addition to that many collectors adulterate the gum opium with a great variety of substances. Dioscorides mentions the fact that even in those remote times adulteration of opium was practiced, such substances as lard, syrup, juice of lactuca, and glaucium being added. Modern collectors and dealers adulterate opium with sand, pebbles, clay, lead, flour, starch, licorice, chicory, gum arabic and other gums, figs, pounded poppy capsules, an excessive quantity of poppy leaves and other leaves, etc. After collecting and drying the peasants carry the gum opium to the market-places, where they are met by the buyers and merchants, who inspect the wares and fix a price very advantageous to themselves.

The present trade in opium is something enormous, especially in India, China, and Asia Minor. To the credit of the Chinese and the discredit of the English it must be said that in 1793 the former strenuously objected to the introduction of opium traffic by the latter. This opposition by the Chinese government culminated in the "Opium War," which led to the treaty of Nanking in 1842, giving the English the authority to introduce opium into China as a staple article of commerce. The reason that Chinese officials objected to the introduction of opium was because they recognized the fact that the inhabitants very readily acquired the habit of smoking opium. In spite of the most severe government edicts the habit spread very rapidly after the treaty referred to.

Gum opium contains active principles (alkaloids), to which it owes its peculiar stimulating, soporific, and pain-relieving powers. Of these alkaloids, of which there are about nineteen, morphine and codeine are undoubtedly the most important. The properties of gum opium represent therefore the collective properties of all of the alkaloids and are similar to the properties of the predominating alkaloids just mentioned.

Physicians generally agree that opium is the most important of medicines. Properly used it is certainly a great boon to mankind, for which there is no substitute, but, like all great blessings, it has its abuses. It is the most effective remedy for the relief of pains and spasms of all kinds. It will produce calm and sleep where everything else has failed. It finds a use in all diseases and ailments accompanied by severe pain, in delirium, rheumatic and neuralgic troubles, in dysentery, etc. It may be applied externally to abraded surfaces, to ulcers and inflamed tissues for the relief of pain. The value of opium does not lie so much in its direct curative powers as in its sedative and quieting effects upon diseased organs, which tends to hasten or bring about the healing or recuperating process. In some diseases the physician refrains from giving opium, as in fully developed pneumonia, since the quieting effect would diminish the efforts on the part of the patient to get rid of the inflammatory products accumulating in the air vesicles and finer bronchial tubes. In fact, the soothing effect is too often mistaken for a curative effect and the patient is neglected. The Roman habit of feeding children pap mixed with poppy juice was a pernicious one. Many modern mothers give their sick and crying infants "soothing syrups," most, if not all, of which contain opium in some form, as tincture of opium and paregoric. Too often the poor, overworked mother, who cannot afford to consult a physician, will purchase a bottle of "soothing syrup" or "cough remedy" for her child because she knows it produces a quieting effect, which is mistaken for a cure, when in reality the incipient symptoms are only masked. Only a reliable physician should be permitted to prescribe opium in any form.