Evening star., 1925-01-06
NEW BOOKS
AT RANDOM
CAoBA. Walter D. wilcox. F. r.

s. G. r. Putnam's Sons.
1t used to be-so the oldest of the
old stories run-that man and nature
once walked and talked together. To
be sure, in those far days mans role
before the natural world was that of
special pleader-fear in his heart, Of
ferings in his hand, promises upon
his lips-praying off from the awful
punishments of tempest and thunder
bolt, of riven earth and engulfing
seas, of drought and blight and fam
Inc. But, since no creature may con-
tinue to exist with perpetual fear
upon him, man turned himself to face
upon the comforting fact that the
earth Is not forever in a turmoil Of
destructive fury, that it has seasons
OF easement, smiling and fecund pc
RODS of JOY and fruitage. This hap
py truth seized upon, there followed
the discovery that the world held lit
tie gods of laughter no less than the
great gods of wrath. And with these
bright spirits of wood and stream and
field, of twilight and dawn and full
midday, man found companionship
and solace. With nymph and Dread
and naiad, with dryad and satyr-
Pan a-piping all the day long-there
slowly spread around him the long,
golden age of beauty and the joy of
life, Released, in this pleasant time
Of joyance, from the beating weight
| OF fear, man instinctively turned to-
ward the arts OF circumvention, to
the devising of many a measure for
the outwitting of the dread forces of
| the natural world. A wizardry of
| success attended him. In effect, he
turned nature against itself, convert
! ing powers of destruction to innum
cradle agencies for his own protec-
ton and continued well being. Not
all triumph, this, however. for when
ever mastery approaches friendliness
| fies away. So, today, at the height
of human dominion over the natural
talk together in the intimacies of
| that golden age. Just here and there
| one, just now and then a man. who
| has clung to the old spirit OF friend
| ship, to the old hours of free COM
| panionship.
But for such an one the story of
Caoba would have been lost in the
| deep Cuban forest where 1T fell from
| the lips of Caoba himself. Happily
| this one, this relic of the old days of
| companionship between man and ma
| ture. was at hand when Caoba out
poured his life story. And that's
| how you and have come by II.
| + 4 4
The old Spanish mainland, the
shores of the Caribbean, is the ma
tive home of the mahogany tree. For
200 years Caoba, king of the trees,
has grown finally to stature that
| overtops the forest roundabout and
| spreads before him the distant waters
OF the blue Caribbean. Full of years
| and with a prescience of doom upon
him. Caoba, one day, as old men are
4 ~
\ reminiscence wherein his whole life
and that of his family as well pass
| ed. picture-like. before him. And as
the scenes came and moved away TO
| give place to other ones, the lips of
| Caoba were loosed, Illuminating recol-
| lection with speech. And at the feet
| of this monarch of the Cuban forest
| sat a man who listened and under
| stood and set down the words of
| Caoba.
A faint dawn was just breaking in
| the deep forest shade when the man,
| sitting at the feet of Caoba, heard the
| reminiscent voice of the great tree
his fathers house for a place of his
| own. Where millions failed to gain
| foothold he, quite by chance it seemed,
| found security where he could send
| a slender root down into the moist
earth and could stretch a cautious
| head up into the air and light. With
| this start, Caoba went on to tell of
the fears and dangers of those early
years. OF strange creeping and fly
| ing things that menaced him, but which
| by Providence alone, it seemed, were di-
lverted to more promising prey. He
| told of the terrors that assailed those
helpless days at the sight of fatality
on every hand. He told of the
| strangler. the monster that fastens
to the slightest cleft in a tree and
from this point secures true
strangle hold which finally does for
the victim, turning it into no more
than throttled and lifeless support
for this pirate of the forest. This
| was the time of growth. of the taking
on of habits, of devising means OF
self protection, of making his young
way in the forest world. And this
was his first story told to the man
listening and recording.
x y
1t was midday when Caoba again took
up the story of his life Bridging a long
stretch of time, as story tellers must
needs do. he began this noontide tale In
the hushed and sleepy depths of the deep
wood with the triumphant day when, his
| iuil helSIfI dttdlileO, HS IOOkeu out over
the massed treetops of his demesne, a
king of the forest a tree of royal
| lineage. From this commanding outlook
Caoba pointed out to the eager and lis.
tening man the wonders of the forest
the beauty of its tree life, the variety OF
its living and moving denizens-par
rotS and paroQuets and now and then
| the gorgeous macaw, the great brown
cuckoo, who fits so silently and calls sc
I-tl-% o1wvft ts--,l,-
uses the sky for a resting place as he
scars for hours on untiring wings" And
the bird lore that he unfolded about the
quite human life of these winged wood
folks was part of his own long years
Of living in their midst a part of his
own wise conclusions upon their habits
and behaviors. And Caoba turned into
the truest of poets and painters as he
pictured this realm of supreme beauty
over which he was looking with rapt and
passionate eyes. He told of the great
voices OF the woods and the great visions
that have opened to these secluded and
secret creatures. Having completed
richly, his tale of the forest" Caoba fell
into the sadness of self-contemplation al
the approach of his own doom. Tive
centuries have passed since was born
Two centuries so replete with fatefu
happenings that the events Of my child
hood seem to have taken place In some
remote and distant world How dim and
faint now appears that dawn of NY lif,
when, as seed. fioated to the ground
by the pale light of the crescent moon
The shadows are gathering round me
The story Of Caoba's life is nearly told =
X X
Nearly" but not quite. For there il
a third story. One not to be mentioned
here. Rather to be left for your owl
pursuit. A sad story, as you have al
ready guessed. Sad, that is, from the
viewpoint of the natures free life with