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J Some Fallacies of the Forest 



ARTICLE THREE 



To this (lay there are people who insist that the spigot for a 

 filler barrel must be made of applewood. There is no telling how 

 old that superstition is, but it goes back to the days when popular 

 education was not general. It was supposed that the cider in 

 flomng through the spigot was improved in some way by contact 

 with the wood of the tree which bore the apples. Some cider 

 makers in remote rural districts yet hold to that view. There is 

 no basis for the belief further than that applewood is good spigot 

 material. It is sanitary because close-grained, hard, and not 

 inclined to check. 



A closely-related belief is that vinegar barrels should be 

 equipped with cedar spigots. Rural stores in some parts of the 

 country still announce that they are prepared to sell cider spigots 

 for such of their customers as need them for %-inegar barrels. 

 It does not appear that any satisfactory reason is offered for the 

 preference of one wood for the cider barrel and another for the 

 barrel that contains vinegar, as the difference between these two 

 liquids is often a matter of mere age. 



The superstition that cedar is a purifier of liquids extended much 

 farther than the vinegar barrel. It was once believed that the 

 southern white cedar, which grows in the swamps near tidewater 

 in Xew Jersey and southward, exercised a mysterious and bene- 

 ficial influence over water brought in contact with it. Pails with 

 cedar staves were popular, and many sea-going vessels were 

 equipped with water casks made of this wood. 



The belief went still further in regard to that species of cedar. 

 It was declared that the growing trees purified the swamp water 

 in which they stood. Vessels about to leave the Chesapeake bay 

 on long sea-voyages occasionally provided themselves with a 

 bountiful supply of stagnant water from the Dismal Swamp in 

 Virginia, under the firm belief that they were taking worthy 

 precautions by having all the casks filled with drinking water fresh 

 from the swales, lagoons and frogponds of the morasses where the 

 cedars grew thick. 



Possibly the resin in the wood affected the water to a small 

 degree, particularly if confined in cedar casks; and it is not 

 improbable that the presence of bark, leaves and berries assisted 

 in precipitating the impurities of swamp water; but the old belief 

 appears to have died out in the region where it was once prevalent. 



The traveler through the southern Appalachian region will some- 

 times find the domestic help about the farm engaged in making the 

 supply of family soap. Lye from ashes, a quantity of grease, and 

 certain other ingredients enter into the manufacture. The mix- 

 ture is boiled in a large iron kettle, usually out of doors. More 

 likely than not it will be found on examination that the stick 

 used in stirring the soap is sassafras. That is not a case of 

 happen. An inquiry will elicit the information that no other wood 

 will answer as well as sassafras for stirring the soap kettle. 



The superstition is widespread, of long standing, and it is still 

 firmly entrenched; but no cause is known why soap is better if 

 stirred with sassafras than with any other wood. A make of 

 "sassafras" soap has long been on the market, and its odor at 

 once betrays it; but the odor is not due to any stirring with a 

 sassafras stick, but to the presence of sassafras oil mixed in 

 liberal quantity during the process of manufacture. The oil is 

 obtained by distilling sassafras roots. It is remarkable how firmly 

 the soap stirrer holds its place among people who would not be 

 usually classed as superstitious. 



Similar beliefs, some without any basis of truth whatever, were 

 once very common, but have now largely disappeared because of 

 more general education. One of these will serve as a sample. It 

 was maintained that a branch of dogwood (other woods were 

 mentioned also) would greatly benefit the weak, famished cattle 

 that were "on the lift" in the spring of the year. The term "on 

 the lift" has fortunately passed out of use. It was formerly 

 applied to farm animals so nearly starved that they could not 



get up when down, and had to be lifted to their feet. That condi- 

 tion was once common in early spring before green things began to 

 grow, and after the dry feed was exhausted. Farmers with small 

 clearings did not always raise enough to tide their stock "through 

 to grass," and a good deal of "lifting" had to be done. It was 

 then that the dogwood superstition came into play. It was claimed 

 that a branch of that wood, fastened to a cow's horns, miracu- 

 lously increased the poor creature's strength to such an extent that 

 she could get up without being lifted. 



It is needless to say that if the farmers of that time had spent 

 a little more time raising fodder they need not have placed such 

 implicit faith in the eflicacy of the dogwood branch to "lift" the 

 cattle the following spring. 



One of the longest survivors of all the fallacies about wood is 

 that which attributes to the moon some potent power over the tree 

 and its products. This superstition assumes various shapes. It 

 was formerly supposed by the majority of country people, and still 

 is by many, that the phases of the earth's luminary influences not 

 only the lasting properties but also the seasoning qualities of 

 wood. Take the case of shingles, as that was one of the most 

 common articles over which the pale beams of the mighty orb were 

 supposed to exercise a benign or malignant influence. 



The tree from which shingles were to be made must be cut when 

 the "sign" was right. All farmers understand the "signs" per- 

 fectly. There were a great many variations of the "signs" that 

 must be observed, for each kind of timber had a "sign" of its 

 own. The man who was about to split red oak clapboards or 

 shingles for a shed roof watched his almanac, and when the horns 

 of the moon were pointing down he felled his tree. That guaran- 

 teed the shingles to lie flat; but if the tree were felled when the 

 moon horns were pointing up, the shingles would be certain to curl up. 



Ked oak, in common with all other oaks, and with most other hard- 

 woods, warps badly when thin pieces, like shingles, are exposed to 

 dampness on one side and dryness on the other. Since shingles 

 nailed on a roof cannot curl downward, it is evident that they 

 must warp upward if they warp at all. They assumed that position 

 in dry weather, but at the end of a long period of rain they were 

 well soaked and the warping was nearly gone. They lay fairly 

 flat on the roof. 



The fact is, the warping of shingles is independent of any phase 

 of the moon; but the old timers would never listen to such a 

 statement. They were as firmly convinced of it as they were of 

 the flat shape of the earth. Every roof with warped shingles that 

 fell under their observation was a clincher, in their opinion, that 

 the timber of which the shingles were made had been felled when 

 the horns of the moon were pointing up. The fact that the same 

 shingles were straight enough in wet weather had no effect on 

 their theory. It is well-known that a superstitious person is 

 almost powerless to learn anything by observation, if it militates 

 against his set notions. Fifty contrary facts weigh less with him 

 than a single fact which he can interpret as proof of his precon- 

 ceived notions. Thus it was that the pioneer shingle and clap- 

 board makers went on, generation after generation, felling oak 

 timber according to the signs of the moon, merely because their 

 daddies did so before them. .\ little observation would have shown 

 them that their pre.iudice was not founded on fact. 



They had no such superstition regarding pine shingles, because 

 pine warps little and the shingles always lay flat. When this fact 

 was explained at all it was explained on the assumption that the 

 moon was unable to influence pine as it did oak. 



There was a whole category of superstitions regarding the 

 moon 's influence upon timber. Some related to decay, others to 

 the attacks of worms and bugs, and some in still other ways. 

 Everything, real or imaginary, that went wrong with timber was 

 saddloil on the poor moon. 



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