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Page 12
[Illustration--Colour Plate: CACAO TREE AND SEEDLING]
The valleys of Trinidad and Grenada have grown cocoa for upwards of a
hundred years, but up to the present time very little in the way of
manuring has been done beyond the natural vegetable deposits of the
forest. In many estates of recent years cattle have been quartered in
temporary pens on the hills, moving on month by month, with a large
central pen for the stock down on the savanna.
The cocoa-beans are shipped to Europe in bags containing from one to
one and a half hundredweight, and are disposed of by the London
brokers nearly every Tuesday in the year at a special sale in the
Commercial Sale Room in Mincing Lane.
The cacao-tree has sometimes been grown from seed in hot-houses in
this country, but always with difficulty, for not only must a mean
temperature of at least 80� F. be maintained, but the tree must be
shielded from all draught. Among the most successful are the trees
grown by Mr. James Epps, Jun., of Norwood, by whose kind permission
the accompanying sketches from life were made. Success has only
crowned his efforts after many years of patient care. To grow a mere
plant was comparatively simple, but to produce even a flower needed
long tending, and involved much disappointment; while to secure
fruition by cross-fertilization was a still more difficult task,
accomplished in England probably on only one other occasion.
FOOTNOTES:
[10] For full information on the subject of planting, see Simmond's
"Tropical Agriculture" (Spon, London and New York); Nicholl's
"Tropical Agriculture" (Macmillan).
[11] See plate facing p. 77.
[12] See _frontispiece_.
III. ITS MANUFACTURE.
[Illustration--Black and White Plate: Bournville: "The Factory in
a Garden."]
[Illustration--Drawing: "ON ARRIVAL AT THE FACTORY".]
Up to this point the operations described have taken place in the
lands where cacao is produced. To watch the further processes in its
development as an article of food, let us in imagination follow one of
the shiploads of cacao on its sea journey from the far tropics to one
of the countries of the old world, until the sacks of beans are
finally deposited at a cocoa factory. An English factory, that of
Messrs. Cadbury, at Bournville, affords an excellent illustration of
its manufacture, not only because about a third of all the beans
imported into this country are treated there, but also because this
treatment is effected amid ideal surroundings. Half a century ago
Messrs. Cadbury Brothers employed but a dozen or twenty hands, and
until within the last twenty-six years the firm was established in the
town of Birmingham. The need for greater accommodation for the rapidly
growing business, and a desire to secure improved conditions for the
work-people, led to the removal of the factory to a distance of about
four miles south of the city. A number of cottages erected for the
work-people in those early days became the nucleus of a great scheme
which in the last few years has expanded into the model village of
Bournville, a name taken from the neighbouring Bourn stream. Year by
year the factory grew and developed, until the green hay-fields, with
the trout stream flowing through them, became gradually covered with
buildings. To-day the factory seems like a small town in itself,
intersected by streets, and surrounded by its own railway. But the
greenness of the country clings wherever a chance is afforded, ivy and
other creepers adorning the brick walls, window boxes bright with
flowers, and trees planted here and there; for no opportunity has been
neglected of making the surroundings beautiful.
[Illustration--Black and White Plate: Bournville Cocoa Works: Office
Buildings.]
Taking train from the city, glimpses can be caught, as we near our
destination, of the pretty houses and gardens of the village, forming
a great contrast to the densely populated district of Stirchley on the
other side of the line. Stepping on to the station, we are greeted by
a whiff of the most delicious fragrance, which is quite enough of
itself to betray the whereabouts of the great factory lying beneath
us, of which from this point we have a fairly good bird's-eye view.
Down the station steps, and a few yards up the lane to the left, with
a playing field on one side, and on the other a plantation of
fir-trees almost hiding the red brick and timbered gables of the
office buildings, and we have arrived at the factory lodge. Looking
through the open door down a vista of archways bowered in clematis
and climbing roses, with an alpine rock garden at each side of the
broad walk, we might almost imagine ourselves to be at the entrance to
some botanical gardens. But a glance at the thousands of check hooks
covering the inner wall of the lodge informs us that more than 2,400
girls pass in and out every day. The men's lodge is at a separate
gate.
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