return to Europe, I found in the Description of the East Indies by
Laet, a Dutch traveller, a passage that seems to have some relation to
the cow-tree. "There exist trees," says Laet,* "in the province of
Cumana, the sap of which much resembles curdled milk, and affords a
salubrious nourishment." (* "Inter arbores quae sponte hic passim
nascuntur, memorantur a scriptoribus Hispanis quaedam quae lacteum
quemdam liquorem fundunt, qui durus admodum evadit instar gummi, et
suavem odorem de se fundit; aliae quae liquorem quemdam edunt, instar
lactis coagulati, qui in cibis ab ipsis usurpatur sine noxa." (Among
the trees growing here, it is remarked by Spanish writers that there
are some which pour out a milky juice which soon grows solid, like
gum, affording a pleasant odour; and also others that give out a
liquid which coagulates like cheese, and which they eat at meals
without any ill effects). Descriptio Indiarum Occidentalium, lib. 18.)

Amidst the great number of curious phenomena which I have observed in
the course of my travels, I confess there are few that have made so
powerful an impression on me as the aspect of the cow-tree. Whatever
relates to milk or to corn, inspires an interest which is not merely
that of the physical knowledge of things, but is connected with
another order of ideas and sentiments. We can scarcely conceive how
the human race could exist without farinaceous substances, and without
that nourishing juice which the breast of the mother contains, and
which is appropriated to the long feebleness of the infant. The
amylaceous matter of corn, the object of religious veneration among so
many nations, ancient and modern, is diffused in the seeds, and
deposited in the roots of vegetables; milk, which serves as an
aliment, appears to us exclusively the produce of animal organization.
Such are the impressions we have received in our earliest infancy:
such is also the source of that astonishment created by the aspect of