Swiss Family Robinson

determined that his pet should at present do no harm, secured him by the leg to a root of the fig-tree and uncovered his eyes. In a moment the aspect of the bird was changed; with his sight returned all his savage instincts, he flapped his wings, raised his head, darted to the full length of his chain, and before anyone could prevent him seized the unfortunate parrot which stood near, and tore it to pieces. Fritz's anger rose at the sight, and he was about to put an end to the savage bird.
    `Stop,' said Ernest, `don't kill the poor creature, he is but following his natural instincts; give him to me, and I will tame him.'
    Fritz hesitated. `No, no,' he said, `I don't want really to kill the bird, but I can't give him up; tell me how to tame him, and you shall have Master Knips .'
    `Very well,' replied Ernest, `I will tell you my plan, and, if it succeeds, I will accept Knips as a mark of your gratitude. Take a pipe and tobacco, and send the smoke all round his head, so that he must inhale it; by degrees he will become stupefied, and his savage nature from that moment subdued.'
    Fritz was rather inclined to ridicule the plan, but knowing that Ernest generally had a good reason for anything of the sort that he proposed, he consented to make the attempt. He soon seated himself beneath the bird, who still struggled furiously, and puffed cloud after cloud upwards, and as each cloud circled round the eagle's head he became quieter and quieter, until he sat quite still, gazing stupidly at the young smoker.
    `Capital!' cried Fritz, as he hooded the bird, `capital, Ernest; Knips is yours.'

    Chapter 8

    Next morning the boys and I started with the cart laden with our bundles of bamboos to attend to the avenue of fruit trees. The buffalo we left behind, for his services were not needed, and I wished the wound in his nostrils to become completely cicatrized before I again put him to work.
    We were not a moment too soon; many of the young trees which before threatened to fall had now fulfilled their promise, and were lying prostrate on the ground, others were bent, some few only remained erect. We raised the trees, and digging deeply at their roots, drove in stout bamboo props, to which we lashed them firmly with strong broad fibres .
    `Papa,' said Franz, as we were thus engaged, and he handed me the fibres as I required them, `are these wild or tame trees?'
    `Oh, these are wild trees, most ferocious trees,' laughed Jack, `and we are tying them up lest they should run away, and in a little while we will untie them and they will trot about after us and give us fruit wherever we go. Oh, we will tame them; they shall have a ring through their noses like the buffalo!'
    `That's not true,' replied Franz, gravely, `but there are wild and tame trees, the wild ones grow out in the woods like the crab-apples, and the tame ones in the garden like the pears and peaches at home. Which are these, papa?'
    `They are not wild,' I replied, `but grafted or cultivated or, as you call them, tame trees. No European tree bears good fruit until it is grafted!' I saw a puzzled look come over the little boy's face as he heard this new word, and I hastened to explain it.
    `Grafting,' I continued, `is the process of inserting a slip or twig of a tree into what is called an eye; that is, a knot or hole in the branch of another. This twig or slip then grows and produces, not such fruit as the original stock would have borne, but such as the tree from which it was taken would have produced. Thus, if we have a sour crab tree, and an apple tree bearing fine ribston pippins, we would take a slip of the latter, insert it in an eye of the former, and in a year or two the branch which it would then grow would be laden with good apples.'
    `But,' asked Ernest, `where did the slips of good fruit come from, if none grow without grafting?'
    `From foreign countries,' I replied. `It is only in the cold climate of our part of the world that they require this grafting; in many parts of the world, in more southern latitudes than ours, the most luscious fruit trees are indigenous to the soil, and flourish and bear sweet, wholesome fruit, without the slightest care of attention being bestowed upon them; while in England and Germany, and even in France, these same trees require the utmost exertion of horticultural skills to make them bring forth any fruit whatever.
    `Thus, when the Romans invaded England they found nothing in the way of fruit trees but the crab-apple, nut