A MAHOGANY TREE BY THE HUDSON.


 


 


"COME, Charlie, let's help John drive up the


cows," and Fred threw down his mallet, and ran


over the lawn to where the farmer was driving


the pretty Alderneys.


There was Bessie, the registered cow, and her


one-year-old calf, so like her mother, with soft,


brown eyes and gentle face. Then there were


Dolly, and Bouncer, and Tricksey, and Tricksey's


youngest daughter, Midget. It was great fun for


the boys to go up the long hill to the barn, and watch


the cows as they stood quietly to be milked, all as


patient as could be save Tricksey, who was in-


clined to be a bit mischievous, and would some-


times slyly kick over the milk-pail if the chance


was given her. She had done so more than once,


and all were cautious at milking-time, fearing Mrs.


Tricksey would play the same prank again.


"Please cut us a stick, John, so we can help


you drive," cried Fred, as he reached the farmer's


side. "Here is a nice little tree—it would make


a splendid cane,—do cut it down for me," and he


began pulling at the leaves of a stout-stalked, miniature


tree, which grew in the shade of the garden


wall.


"Not that one, Master Fred," said the good-natured farmer.


"Your grandfather sets a store by


that 'ere tree. He would rather you took any


other on the place."


"I don't see why. What makes him like it so


much, John?" questioned Charlie, who was looking


with very wide-open eyes at the sturdy little


sapling. "Would he really rather have the big


oak cut down, or the chestnut, or that elm at the


front gate?"


"Well, I can't just say, Master Charlie; ye'll


have to ask your grandpa about it. I have heard


tell, though, that that little tree came from the


Indies, and is the kind of wood they make furniture


out of."


The boys were all curiosity. They were fond of


studying about plants and flowers, and often, in the


evening, they would bring to their grandfather the


strange leaves and blossoms they had found during


the day, and ask him to tell them their names, and


explain their different uses. They were boys who


went about with their eyes open, to see all that


was new and strange, and now John's words made


them eager to hear about this wonderful little tree.


"It can't be black walnut," said Charlie, "nor


ash, though the leaves are just a little alike. I


wonder what other furniture woods we have?


There are the mahogany sofas and tables—"


"But it ain't mahogany; that only grows in hot


countries," said Fred.


Fred was a year older than Charlie, and, like a


great many other little boys, he thought he knew


very much more than his younger brother. They


each picked a leaf, and having watched the cows


milked and driven into the night pasture, raced


swiftly down the hill to see who could first ask


grandpa about the tree from the Indies.


"Grandpa," called Fred, who, all hot and out of


breath, reached the piazza ahead of Charlie, "won't


you please tell us about this leaf; it comes from


the 'furniture tree,' John says, and he would not


let us cut it down."


"I should think not," said grandpa, laughing.


"I would have been sorry enough to have that


little tree destroyed. It is a rarity in this part of


the world."


"Did it really come from the Indies?" asked


the boys.


"Well, not exactly. I think I shall have time


to tell you its history before supper. It is the


mahogany tree."


"There, Fred," cried Charlie, triumphantly,


while Fred looked a little crest-fallen, as he exclaimed,—


 


"I thought mahogany came from the south—


 from real hot countries."


"So it does, my boy; but it is a mahogany tree


nevertheless, even if it is far away from its native


land. The mahogany tree grows in the West


Indies and in Central America.' I do not think it


is ever found much north of these countries. At


any rate this, and one or two others springing from


the same parent tree, are all I have ever seen in


the United States. You know your mother's Aunt


Lucy has a fine old homestead in northern New


Jersey. Right in front of the house, and near the


road, is standing a great tree, which has been


growing there these many years. It was a favorite


with the whole family, though none knew its name.


People often stopped in passing to wonder what it


could be. Aunt Lucy had called it the bean tree.'


Just after she was married, her husband received


a bag of coffee from St. Domingo—that was the


name years ago of the West Indian island now


known as Hayti. When the bag was opened, lying


 right among the coffee berries, was a strange,


rough, brown seed-pod. Aunt Lucy, never having


seen anything of the kind, thought she would


experiment with it, and so she planted it in a box,


and carefully tended it, watching and waiting till


it came up a tiny sprout. This she transplanted


after it was strong and hardy; and as the years


went by, it gradually grew taller and broader, until


it has become as large as that fine elm yonder.


Your aunty was very proud of it, you may be sure,


although she did not know what it really was. One


day, a few years ago, two gentlemen were walking


by Aunt Lucy's gate. Suddenly they spied the


remarkable tree, and stopped, seemingly so much


surprised and interested that Aunt Lucy ran out


to ask if they could tell her its name. 'It is the


mahogany tree,' said one, and I am wondering at


seeing it here in the north.' Then Aunt Lucy told


how she had found the seed in the bag of coffee,


which had come all the way from St. Domingo.


My little tree and several others have come from


the mother tree, and I prize it very much, too much


to have you cut it down, you see."


"Did the mahogany that made your tables and


chairs, grandpa, come from St. Domingo?" asked


Fred.


"Yes, some did, and some came from Honduras.


There are two kinds of mahogany. That of St.


Domingo, and the other West Indian islands, is


finer, closer-grained, and better in color and


durability, than that of Honduras, and is called


Spanish mahogany. It is an expensive wood, and


often-times to make a little go a great way, cabinet-


makers cut it in thin layers, and put it on the out-


side of pine and other cheap woods. This is called


veneering. Rosewood is treated in the same way."


"Have they always used mahogany for furniture,


grandpa?" asked Charlie.


"No, my boy. The story is that in the time of


good Queen Bess, three hundred years ago, you


know, Sir Walter Raleigh, a very great navigator,


visited this continent. At the island of Trinidad,


one of the West Indies, his ships needed repairing,


and mahogany was used for the purpose. That


was the first it was known to Englishmen; but it


was not until early in 1700 that it was used at all


in England for furniture. At that time a number


of mahogany planks were brought to England as


ballast by a sea captain. His father was building


a house, and he gave them to him. They were too


hard to be worked by ordinary tools, however, and


were thrown aside as useless. They lay unnoticed


until a cabinet-maker found them, and used them


in making a bureau, which was so rich in color,


and so highly polished, that it attracted much


attention; and when one of the nobility bought it,


the wood became fashionable, and has been


employed ever since."


 


"Have you seen the tree growing in the South;


Grandpa?" asked one of the boys.


"Yes, I saw last year, in Jamaica, many


mahogany trees. They are very lofty and widely


branched, and are beautiful, particularly when


covered with the small clusters of white and


yellowish blossoms. When you are older, you will


enjoy learning from your botany all the different


parts of a plant. Each has a peculiar name. Look


at this glossy leaf. You see three or four pairs of


leaflets growing opposite each other on the one


common stalk? Botanists call them pinnate leaves,


and for everything else about the tree they have


scientific names. Some time you can find out all


this for yourselves; but here comes grandma, and


we must go to supper."


 


 


Mary Scott Boyd.