And such has always been the case; the rudest savage, the semi-barbarian, and the most highly civilized races have alike turned to the vegetation for their models. Architecture, as we all know, has been borrowed almost wholly from the forest, not only in its grander forms, but also in its lesser ornamental parts; the lotus, the honeysuckle, and the acanthus, are found carved on the most ancient works of man yet standing upon the earth—the tombs and temples of Hindostan, and Egypt, and Greece. In short, from the most precious treasures of ancient art, down to the works of our own generation, we find the same designs ever recurring. The most durable and costly materials the earth holds in her bosom, stone and marble, gold, and silver, and gems, have been made to assume, in a thousand imposing or graceful forms, the lines of the living vegetation. How very many of the proudest works of art would be wanting, if there had been no grace and dignity in trees, no beauty in leaves and flowers!
Probably the first rude attempts at pottery were modelled upon the rounded forms of the Eastern gourds. The rinds of vegetables of that kind were doubtless the first vessels used by man in antediluvian times. Wherever they are found, they are employed in this way by the savage races of the present day. The Indians of this part of the world were using the rind of gourds as water-vessels in their wigwams, when the Dutch came among them; the colonists also borrowed the custom, glad to turn the “calabash” to account in this way, since crockery and other hardware were not easily procured. Before tin-ware and crockery had become so cheap, calabashes or gourds were constantly seen in American farm-houses, as water-vessels, in common use; very possibly a few may yet be found here and there, in rural, inland districts, at the present hour.
