CLASS XII. ORDER II. J CRATiEGUS. 689 



claw, (he mavgin mostly %vaved or crisped. Stamens on awl-shaped 

 filaments^ with ovate anthers^ of two cells, of a pink colour, becoming 

 blackish. Styles slender, from one to three flowers on the same plant. 

 Stiyma oblique. Fruit an ovate or round poma, with hard bony 

 carpella, varying in number with the styles, and enveloped in insipid 

 somewhat mealy flesh. 



Habitat. — Woods and hedges. 



Shrub or tree; flowering in May. 



The Crataegus is an extensive genus of very ornamental hardy shrubs 

 or trees ; some of them are armed with spines, and others are not, and 

 the leaves are simple or cut. Our only species, the C. oxycantha, forms 

 the natural thickets and bushes in all parts of the country ; it forms 

 our best fences, from its hardiness : it is mostly profusely furnished 

 with spines, and will bear cutting, clipping, and laying, and when 

 even the very old plants are cut down to near the ground, they put 

 forth a profusion of young shoots. Some of the varieties, when pro- 

 perly cut, form highly ornamental small trees, which adorn our parks 

 and lawns, and especially the double and scarlet blossomed, for it 

 l)lossoms most profusely, and exhales a very a;;reeable fragrance. 

 " From the White thorn the May-flower shed 

 Its dewy fragrance round our head.'' 



And Shakspeare says in his play of Henry the Fourth — 

 *' Gives not the Hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 

 To shepherds looking on their silly sheep — 

 Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 

 To Kings, that fear their subjects treachery.'' 



It is associated with many of our earliest and dearest recollections ; for 

 *' Every shepherd tells his tale 

 Under the Hawthorn in the dale." 



And Wordsworth, in his extremely beautiful poem on " The Thorn,'' 

 has thrown a charm around ihese ancient landmarks, as they stand 

 with their rugged members on the hill top or mountain side; and as 

 the wanderer passes over the barren moor land or forest waste, he 

 will be ready to exclaim that this must be the Thorn of Wordsworth, 

 of which he says — 



•* There is a Thorn — it looks so old 

 In truth, you'd finti it hard to say 

 How could it ever have been young, 

 It looks so old and grey. 

 Not higher than a two-year's child 

 It stands erect this aged Thorn ; 

 No leaves it has, no thorny points ; 

 It is a mass of knotty joints, 

 A wretched thing forlorn. 

 It stands erect, and like a stone 

 With lichens it is overgrown. 

 Like rock or stone, it is o'ergrown 



