"There is one," said he, "very like a pumpkin, only harder outside."
"Of this shell," said I, "we can make plates, dishes, basins, and
flasks. We call it the gourd-tree."
Fritz leaped for joy. "Now my dear mother will be able to serve her soup
properly." I asked him if he knew why the tree bore the fruit on its
trunk, or on the thick branches only. He immediately replied, that the
smaller branches would not bear the weight of the fruit. He asked me if
this fruit was eatable. "Harmless, I believe," said I; "but by no means
delicate. Its great value to savage nations consists in the shell, which
they use to contain their food, and drink, and even cook in it." Fritz
could not comprehend how they could cook in the shell without burning
it. I told him the shell was not placed on the fire; but, being filled
with cold water, and the fish or meat placed in it, red-hot stones are,
by degrees, introduced into the water, till it attains sufficient heat
to cook the food, without injuring the vessel. We then set about making
our dishes and plates. I showed Fritz a better plan of dividing the
gourd than with a knife. I tied a string tightly round the nut, struck
it with the handle of my knife till an incision was made, then tightened
it till the nut was separated into two equally-sized bowls.
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