XXXVI. 1. THE THORN. 431 
closed by the teeth of the calyx, and containing from 2 to 5 
bony nuts, each with one seed. 
Many of the most beautiful and highly valued thorns are 
natives of North America, and four, and probably others, of 
New England. Hence they have been carried to Europe, and 
have there, especially within a few years past, received great 
attention. It is found that a greater variety of beautiful small 
trees and ornamental shrubs can be formed of the several species 
of thorn than of any other kind of tree whatever. They thus 
give persons, whose grounds are not extensive, the means of 
ornamenting them with great facility. If trained as trees, they 
have an appearance of singular neatness united with a good 
degree of vigor. And the readiness with which they are pruned 
and grafted, renders them susceptible of almost any shape which 
the fancy of the owner would have them assume. 
In his Forest Scenery, I, 94, Gilpin, speaking of the English 
hawthorn, after some depreciating remarks, adds, “In autumn, 
the hawthorn makes its best appearance. Its glowing berries pro- 
duce a rich tint, which often adds great beauty to the corner of 
a wood, or the side of some crowded clump.” In a more favor- 
able tone his editor subjoms,—*‘ We have seen it hanging over 
rocks, with deep shadows under its foliage, or shooting from 
their sides, in the most fantastic forms, as 1f to gaze at 1ts image 
in the deep pool below. We have seen it growing under the 
shelter, though not under the shade, of some stately oak, embod- 
ying the idea of beauty protected by strength. We have seen 
it growing grandly on the green of the village school, the great 
object of general attraction to the young urchins, who played 
in idle groups about its roots, and perhaps the only thing re- 
maining to be recognized, when the schoolboy returns as the 
man. We have seen its aged boughs overshadowing one half 
of some peaceful woodland cottage, its foliage half concealing 
the window, whence the sounds of happy content and cheerful 
murth came forth. We know that lively season, 
When the milkmaid singeth blythe, 
And the mower whets his scythe, 
And every shepherd tells his tale 
Under the hawthorn in the dale.” 
