WHAT WE OWE TO THE TREE.

Hokitika Guardian, 12 May 1924, Page 1

WHAT WE OWE TO THE TREE.

The hinds of wood used in the manufacture of familiar objects arc known to few besides those who deal in timber. They are both numerous and interesting, says C.U.E.B. in the Daily Mail.

'I he carriage in which baby takes bis airing was probably once a graceful birch tree. The veined beauty of the gunstuck his father carries bore many a crop of walnuts ere it lay low. An apple tree gave the feller his wedges and the big mallet which lie calls a beetle and uses for riving the wood.

Mayhap tlie match with which lie lights his pipe was a restless poplar, though during the war many a slenderleaved willow was used. The Scotch fir that lias often tossed its branches in the wind may bring melody into London as the breast of a violin.

The dainty, exquisitely inlaid table on which my lady rests her cup may owe its line patterning to a liox-lrco that ornamented some trim garden long ago. Perhaps the charming little casket that hides her trinkets was made from it too.

Many a pear tree ends its days on the dressing-table; dyed black, polished, and set with bristles it look:, almost like a Imir-brush of ebony. Koine mathematical instruments once yielded creamy blooms and ruby berries that made tine cordial as an elder in the dingle. Or they might lie relations of my lady’s little table.

The (light of the arrow would not lie so swift were it not for that friend of the archer, the yew. For the how is made from this, and nothing can take its place. From the tall, massive sycamore came the platter on which lies our bread. The handle of the saw and some chairs used in the kitchen have given sustenance to squirrels when they travelled in quest of beeehmnst. Beneath its coat of bright red or blue paint the wheelbarrow speaks of ash or elm : from an ash tree, too, was made tile shaft of our axe. The little desk at which 1 sit and write is tinged with the ruddy hue of the “conkers” with which children play. A long while ago chestnuts creeked its houghs, so this, perhaps, is not surprising. Many a spindle tree that has brightened the thicket with its berries is at the last a toothpick. And the hornbeam that threw a grateful shadow on the grass goes for ever round and round as a cogwheel. llis dog, his pil>c, and his walkingstick are boon companions of many a man. To the cherry tree lie often owes the solace of the two last named. And in all these tilings there arc stories —stories that only Mother Nature and the craftsmen who made them know.