CHAP. 11.—THE INDIAN FIG.
The Indian fig[1] bears but a small fruit. Always growing
spontaneously, it spreads far and wide with its vast branches,
the ends of which bend downwards into the ground to such a
degree, that they take fresh root in the course of a year, and
thus form a new plantation around the parent stock, traced in
a circular form, just as though it had been the work of the
ornamental gardener. Within the bowers thus formed, the
shepherds take up their abode in the summer, the space occupied by them being, at once, overshadowed and protected by
the bulwark which the tree thus throws around; a most
graceful sight, whether we stand beneath and look upwards,
or whether we view its arcaded foliage from a distance. The
higher branches, however, shoot upwards to a very considerable height, and, by their number, form quite a grove, spring
ing aloft from the vast trunk of the parent tree, which
overspreads, very frequently, a space of sixty paces in extent,
while the shade that is thrown by it will cover as much as
a couple of stadia. The broad leaves of the tree have just the
shape of an Amazonian buckler; and hence it is that the
fruit, from being quite covered by the leaves, is greatly impeded
in its growth. The fruit, indeed, of this tree is but scanty,
and never exceeds a bean in size; being ripened, however, by
the rays of the sun, as these penetrate the leaves, the figs are
remarkable for their singular lusciousness, and are quite worthy
of the marvellous tree by which they are produced. These
fig-trees are found, more particularly, in the vicinity of the
river Acesines.[2]