Continuing our way through a thicket, and which was so densely overgrown with lianas that we had to clear a passage with our hatchets, we again emerged on the seashore beyond, and found an open view, the forest sweeping inland, while on the space before us stood at intervals single trees of remarkable appearance.
These at once attracted Fritz's observant eye, and he pointed to them, exclaiming,
“Oh, what absurd-looking trees, father! See what strange bumps there are on the trunks.”
CALABASH.
We approached to examine them, and I recognised them as calabash trees, the fruit of which grows in this curious way on the stems, and is a species of gourd, from the hard rind of which bowls, spoons, and bottles can be made. “The savages,” I remarked, “are said to form these things most ingeniously, using them to contain liquids: indeed, they actually cook food in them.”
“Oh, but that is impossible,” returned Fritz. “I am quite sure this rind would be burnt through directly it was set on the fire.”
“I did not say it was set on the fire at all. When the gourd has been divided in two, and the shell or rind emptied of its contents, it is filled with water, into which the fish, or whatever is to be cooked, is put; red-hot stones are added until the water
