Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration. See 45921-h.htm or 45921-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/45921/45921-h/45921-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/45921/45921-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/mahoganytree00thacrich THE MAHOGANY TREE [Illustration: _This characteristic picture of the author of "The Mahogany Tree" is reproduced from a drawing made by the distinguished illustrator, Mr. Edmund Dulac, for the cover of the menu of a dinner of the Titmarsh Club of London. It is reprinted here by Mr. Dulac's very kind permission._] THE MAHOGANY TREE by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY New York Privately Printed Christmas 1910 The Mahogany Tree _"Some years since" said Thackeray in a public speech, "when I was younger, and used to frequent jolly assemblies, I wrote a Bacchanalian song to be chanted after dinner;" and a contemporary record has preserved a note of "the radiant gratification of his face whilst Horace Mayhew sang The Mahogany Tree, perhaps the finest and most soul-stirring of Thackeray's social songs."_ _In seeking a Souvenir of this Christmas season the ballad of "The Mahogany Tree" lends itself most felicitously to the present purpose which is to_ "--_wish you health, and love and mirth, As fits the solemn Christmas-tide_." _Putting aside for an hour the affairs of a work-a-day world, let us take our places around the convivial board, on the time-stained surface of which we may find in fancy the initials of so many boon companions of other days cut deep._ _It is pleasant to sport "round the stem of the jolly old tree" in congenial company, and to renew our youth at the bidding of this gracious Toastmaster, the centennial of whose birth we shall celebrate presently; the anniversary of whose death was yester-e'en._ _But while remembering that we shall be none the worse tomorrow for having been happy today, we are not permitted to forget entirely the Blue-devil Sprite that awaits the dawn. The play-spell is over; the lights are out in Vanity Fair; and here in Mr. Dulac's drawing is the leader of our Christmas Chorus as he shuts up the box and the puppets--"for our play is played out."_ _C. M. F._ _Christmas 1910._ THE MAHOGANY TREE Christmas is here: Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we: Little we fear Weather without, Sheltered about The Mahogany Tree Once on the boughs Birds of rare plume Sang, in its bloom; Night-birds are we: Here we carouse, Singing like them, Perched round the stem Of the jolly old tree. Here let us sport, Boys, as we sit; Laughter and wit Flashing so free. Life is but short-- When we are gone, Let them sing on Round the old tree.