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.