“‘Tis a good thing to know how the table-vegetables are raised, even if you always buy them,” returned the Scotchman. “‘Tis not showing a proper thankfulness to God to sit and eat and never think what a world of pains he has taken to give us such variety for the pleasure of the palate. I never wish to put any thing into my mouth without thanking the Divine hand that gave it, and I hope you children will remember always to do the same, and strive to learn all you can about every good gift that comes from above.”
“You forgot the lettuce,” said Sally. “You carry some of that, do you not?”
“Yes,” said Gill; “I’ll pull it on our way to the barn.”
The leaves were fresh and crisp, and bathed in morning dew. Gill selected the young plants, and left those that were in flower to sport their small, pale-yellow blossoms.
“It is narcotic and poisonous when in flower,” he said.
Little Sally asked, “What is narcotic?” and Gill told her, “Producing sleep or torpor. If one ate too much, it would benumb the brain, and, maybe, we could not rouse it again. All the senses would be stupefied, as when one takes an overdose of laudanum or of opium, and the person might die.”
“I’m always sleepy when I eat lettuce,” said Ben; “and I’ve often wondered at that.”
“The doctors get a soothing medicine from this plant.” said Gill. “The stem is cut, and the milky juice is obtained, and it hardens into little reddish-brown lumps which are sold at the drug-stores. They call it “lettuce opium” sometimes, but they say it is not so harmful as the real opium.”
“From the poppy,” said Gill. “There is a species of poppy which yields it in large quantities. It grows wild in the south of Europe, and in parts of England; and it is cultivated in India, and Persia, and Asiatic Turkey. The people make a good deal of money out of it. When the plant is young, it is as harmless as the young lettuce, and is eaten as a pot herb. The opium is chiefly extracted from the seed-vessel after the flower has fallen. There are large fields of this poppy, in the countries I spoke of, and men and women go out and make little incisions, or cuts, in the capsule or seed-vessel. Then they leave it for twenty-four hours, and when they come again the juice stands in tears, and they scrape it off with blunt knives. You have heard of opium-eaters?” said Gill.--“Yes,” returned the children; “they are like drunkards, are they not?”