THE HAWTHORN. 



197 



boughs^ vv'hich, with their thickset prickles^ form 

 an ahnost impenetrable barrier round the little 

 domain. When arrived at maturity, its stoutest 

 branches are often hacked unmercifully, nearly 

 through their whole dimensions, and forcibly fixed 

 in a direction contrary to their natural growth ; 

 yet the lacerated limbs, regardless of this rude 

 treatment, send forth their shoots as vigorously as 

 ever, and accommodate themselves to the humour 

 or convenience of the planter, with all the fidelity 

 of a spaniel. The Hawthorn may be considered, 

 indeed, a domesticated tree, that readily adapts 

 itself to the wishes and wants of man, rec[uiring 

 little care or attention during any period of its 

 growth. Nor are these all its services ; every 

 plant that grows near it seems to acquire in- 

 creased vigour from its friendly shelter and vici- 

 nity. The snowdrop, fearless of the tempest, 

 displays its earliest flowers amid the thick covert 

 of the Hawthorn ; while the primrose, the violet, 

 and the speedwell are generally its beautiful as- 

 sociates. 



Deprived of its Hawthorn hedges, our rural 

 scenery would lose one of its most interesting 

 features, and present to the eye of the painter 

 and. the poet little more than a tame and mono- 

 tonous expanse of country. Xot only do they 

 agreeably diversify our immediate vicinities, but 

 when blended by distance give a rich and unri- 

 valled charm to English landscape. 



The Hawthorn is also one of the earliest har- 

 bingers of summer. AVhat can surpass the beau- 

 tiful and delicate green of its first unfolding 

 leaves ? After surveying from our windows the 

 monotonous and dingy prospect of a long succes- 



