TUNG-OLD OIL FOR NEW NEEDS 



After thirty years of costly trying we have natural- 

 ized this remarkable tree. Its cultivation will be a post- 

 war project in which a lot of Americans will make, or 

 lose, a lot of dollars. 



The coral-veined blossoms of a Chinese tung tree in 

 full bloom are startlingly beautiful. But it will not be- 

 come a rival of dogwood and flowering crab in our 

 suburban front yards, and you will not find it in your 

 favorite nursery catalogue. 



The tung tree bears big, attractive nuts, the size of 

 a hen's egg. But you cannot eat them, for they contain 

 more than a trace of a poisonous alkaloid akin to mor- 

 phine. A few inquisitive G.I.'s stationed at Camp Bland- 

 ing in Florida, in the region where the tung tree has 

 been naturalized, have landed in the hospital after 

 sampling the tempting nuts they find growing in what 

 are obviously orchard rows. The taste discourages such 

 gastronomic experiments. This is fortunate since a 

 couple of the nuts would probably prove fatal. 



These nuts are rich in an exceptional oil. It is a 

 cataclysmic cathartic, so it will not make a nice salad 

 dressing or a new butter substitute. In industry, how- 

 ever, it is as useful as coal tar or petroleum. 



Since before the oldest records of Chinese history, 

 the peasants of the Yangtze Valley have collected tung 

 nuts, removed the seeds, pressed out the oil, and sold it 

 to their fellow countrymen for many uses. For centuries 

 this trade has centered in the city of Hankow. It was a 



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