Baynilla, or rather the word bayna, a shell or
pod, of which baynilla is the diminutive, as
cascarilla is of cascara.

The chief supply of these delicious and valuable
pods is from Mexico, but they also attain
perfection in the Mauritius and in Surinam.
The care of the plants is confided to the Indians
when they are under cultivation. Where they
grow wild and luxuriantly under the rays of a
tropical sun, the Indians collect the pods as
they lie thickly in the woods. The pods are
first laid in heaps to dry for two or three
days in the sun, then they are flattened and
rubbed over with the oil of Palma Christe.
After repeating this process several times, they
are considered fit for market, and fetch a very
high price. When these pods reach Europe
they are used either in a powdered state in very
small quantities, or an extract is made of them
which answers the same purpose. Attempts
have been made to grow the vanilla artificially,
both on the continent of Europe and in England;
but the process is too expensive to answer
commercially. At the meeting of the British
Association at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, in 1838,
Professor Morren, of Liege, read a paper on the
production of vanilla in Europe. He stated
that he had for some time successfully grown
V. planifolia in the Botanic Gardens at Liege;
and, although this species does not naturally
produce odoriferous fruit, he had obtained from
it fruits as large and fragrant as those of V.
aromatica used in commerce. The chief difficulty
in the growth of the plant seems to be in
the fructification of the stigma, which, as it is
somewhat hidden and covered in, is accomplished
in its native state by bees and other insects
seeking for the honey it contains, and thus
carry the pollen from one flower to another.

At Sion House, the residence of the Duke of
Northumberland, the vanilla plant is successfully
grown in the hot-houses; shade, heat, and
humidity seem to be the requirements of this
interesting plant.

All our most delicious perfumes and refined
tastes are now-a-days reducible to very matter
of fact formula—except vanilla, and we never
heard of that being imitated. The chemist by
his art can almost set aside the agency of the
vegetable world, and, from the most unattractive
materials, can manufacture flavours and
scents precisely similar to any produced in
Nature's laboratory. The fruit of the vanilla,
when analysed, is found to contain its own
peculiar volatile oil with a certain proportion of
benzoic acid. Amongst the numerous essences
and flavours now constantly sold for the
purposes of confectionary, nearly all can be
obtained artificially. It is by no means necessary
that the oil of bitter almonds should have ever
been contained in an almond. Pear oil, apple
oil, and pineapple essence are frequently obliged
to trace their origin to far different sources from
the fruit whose flavour they represent. Oil of
bitter almonds can be obtained from a
compound substance known in the laboratory as
Benzol. This benzol is a product of coal-tar,
and is rejected at the gas factories. By adding
nitric acid to benzol we get nitro benzol, or
artificial oil of almonds. There is also another
substance called hippuric acid, extracted from
the drainage of our cowhouses and pigsties,
which, when submitted to the action of the
heat, can be made into nitro benzol, available in
the same manner to become oil of bitter almonds.
Pear oil, or essence of Jargonelle pears, for
which we in England have long been celebrated,
is quite independent of the presence of pears for
its manufacture. A compound called amyl,
produced from the decomposition of starch,
which can be got from potatoes when united
with vinegar or acetic acid in proper quantities,
becomes at once pear oil, possessing all the
fragrance of that fruit. Then pineapple oil, or
essence, is in its chemical principles closely
associated with rancid butter; the peculiar
disagreeable flavour of butter when decomposing
is due to butyric acid, which, when mixed with
ethyle, the principle of ether, gives the true
pineapple flavour. It is just so in the natural
laboratory of that beautiful fruit; then, according
to Nature's own incontrovertible laws, a
manufactory of acid and ethyle has been going
on during the process of growth and ripening,
which results in the natural production of the
pineapple fragrance.

With all these revelations of modern science
before us, we could almost doubt whether
anything is really what it professes to be; but a
visit to Messrs. Fortnum and Mason's—that
tempting emporium of all that is elegant, tasteful,
and delicious in the art of confectionary—
will soon convince the most sceptical that, after
all, the botany of confectionary still exists.
We have seen an épergne filled with genuine
botanical specimens, so disguised and sweetened
with candied sugar that the eye would
certainly never detect portions of some of our
commonest wild flowers. It is not until after
a closer inspection of these little bonbons that
we discover, by their fragrance, that the flower
of the sweet-scented violet—the Viola Odorata
—has been transformed into a sweetmeat. We
are reminded by it of hedgerows and bright
spring days, and can distinctly recognise its
bright purple petals thus singularly disguised.

Again, the petals of the fragrant orange-blossom,
Citrus Aurantium, lie all snowy and glittering
with crystals of sugar in a transparent saucer
by the side of the violets. What so appropriate
for a bridal feast? We can imagine it may
one day be possible to feed a bride on these
aromatic delicacies, as well as to adorn her with
the perfect blossoms of the orange-flower. A
time-honoured custom this; but we scarcely
know, with our newly-awakened taste, whether
we would not vote for fewer orange-blossoms
being worn and more eaten, were it not for the
respect we have for ancient legends.

The bright green crystallised knots so abundant
on every dessert-table, and the tiny little
triangles found in jellies and cakes of various
sorts, are of native production. Angelica
Archangelica, though not strictly a British plant,