THE HAWTHORN. 



199 



In spring and summer the Hawthorn breathes 

 the very soul of rustic poetry ; its rich profusion 

 of crimson berries contributes largely to the 

 glorious colouring of autumn, and scarcely less 

 to relieve the dreary sameness of winter. 



Gilpin, I regret to add, scarcely allows the 

 Hawthorn any claim to be considered an orna- 

 ment to the landscape. The Hawthorn," he 

 says, should not entirely be passed over amidst 

 the minuter plants of the forest, though it has 

 little claim to picturesque beauty. In song, in- 

 deed, the shepherd may with propriety, 



' tell his tale 

 Under the Hawthorn in the dale : ' 



but when the scenes of Nature are presented to 

 the eye, it is but a poor appendage. Its shape 

 is bad ; it does not taper and point like the 

 Holly, but is rather a matted, round, heavy bush. 

 Its fragrance, indeed, is great ; but its bloom, 

 which is the source of that fragrance, is spread 

 over it in too much profusion. It becomes a 

 mere white sheet — a bright spot, which is seldom 

 found in harmony with the objects around it. In 

 autumn the Hawthorn makes its best appearance. 

 Its glowing berries produce a rich tint, which 

 often adds great beauty to the corner of a wood, 

 or the side of some crowded clump." 



Now, although the author in this passage pro- 

 fessedly speaks of the Hawthorn as forming a 

 part of a scene of Nature presented to the eye," 

 it is clear that he is in reality thinking of it 

 as an ingredient in a painted landscape, and 

 here, it must be confessed, it is not entitled to 

 a prominent place when in full bloom. No 

 painter would admit a mass of glaring white — 



