Perhaps the most interesting of the Oak's pensioners to the

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Transcriber's Note

This plain text version of the book uses the ASCII character set only.

Ae and ae is used for the ae ligature (upper and lower case).

[:a], [:o] are used for a and o with umlaut.

['e], ['u] are used for e and u with acute accent.

[e'] is used for e with grave accent.

[oe] is used for the oe ligature.

[^u] is used for u with circumflex accent.

[L] is used to represent the Pound (Sterling) symbol.

Minor changes to punctuation and formatting are made without comment.

Changes to the text, to correct typographical errors, are listed as

follows:

Page 69 (paragraph on the Eared Sallow): changed "that" to "than" (...

which are usually less than two inches long,...)

* * * * *

A LIST OF THE VOLUMES IN

THE

WAYSIDE AND WOODLAND SERIES

WAYSIDE AND WOODLAND BLOSSOMS

A Pocket Guide to British Wild Flowers, for the Country Rambler.

(First and Second Series.)

With clear Descriptions of 760 Species. By EDWARD STEP, F.L.S.

And Coloured Figures of 257 Species by MABEL E. STEP.

WAYSIDE AND WOODLAND TREES

A Pocket Guide to the British Sylva. By EDWARD STEP, F.L.S.

With 175 Plates from Water-colour Drawings by MABEL E. STEP

and Photographs by HENRY IRVING and the Author.

WAYSIDE AND WOODLAND FERNS

A Pocket Guide to the British Ferns, Horsetails and Club-Mosses.

By EDWARD STEP, F.L.S.

With Coloured Figures of every Species by MABEL E. STEP.

And 67 Photographs by the Author.

THE BUTTERFLIES OF THE BRITISH ISLES

A Pocket Guide for the Country Rambler.

With clear Descriptions and Life Histories of all the Species.

By RICHARD SOUTH, F.E.S.

With 450 Coloured Figures photographed from Nature, and numerous

Black and White Drawings.

THE MOTHS OF THE BRITISH ISLES

(First and Second Series).

A Complete Pocket Guide to all the Species included in the Groups

formerly known as Macro-lepidoptera. By RICHARD SOUTH, F.E.S.

With upwards of 1500 Coloured Figures photographed from Nature,

and numerous Black and White Drawings.

AT ALL BOOKSELLERS.

_Full Prospectuses on application to the Publishers--_

FREDERICK WARNE AND CO.

LONDON: 15, Bedford Street, Strand.

NEW YORK: 12, East 33rd Street.

WAYSIDE AND WOODLAND TREES.

[Illustration: _Pl. 1._ Flowers of Horse Chestnut. _Frontispiece._]

Wayside and Woodland Trees

A POCKET GUIDE TO THE BRITISH SYLVA

BY

EDWARD STEP, F.L.S.

AUTHOR OF

"WAYSIDE AND WOODLAND BLOSSOMS"

"THE ROMANCE OF WILD FLOWERS" "SHELL LIFE"

ETC.

_WITH ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE PLATES FROM

WATER-COLOUR DRAWINGS BY MABEL E. STEP AND

PHOTOGRAPHS BY HENRY IRVING AND

THE AUTHOR._

LONDON

FREDERICK WARNE & CO.

AND NEW YORK

(_All rights reserved_)

"_Of all man's works of art, a cathedral is greatest. A vast and

majestic tree is greater than that._"

_Henry Ward Beecher._

PREFACE.

The purpose of this volume is not the addition of one more to the

numerous treatises upon sylviculture or forestry, but to afford a

straightforward means for the identification of our native trees and

larger shrubs for the convenience of the rural rambler and Nature-lover.

The list of British arborescent plants is a somewhat meagre one, but all

that could be done in a pocket volume by way of supplementing it has

been done--by adding some account of those exotics that have long been

naturalized in our woods, and a few of more recent introduction that

have already become conspicuous ornaments in many public and private

parks.

In this edition forty-eight extra plates have been added, of which

twenty-four are in colours. The latter are in part reproductions of

water-colour studies of flowers and fruits, and partly from photographs

by a new method. For the black and white plates, the photographs, it

should be explained, have been taken upon a novel plan in most cases.

This consists in photographing a deciduous tree in its summer glory, and

returning to the same spot in winter and photographing the same

individual, so that a striking comparison may be made between the

summer and winter aspects of the principal species. Supplementary

photographs are given, in many cases, of the bole, which exhibit the

character of the bark, and should prove a valuable aid in the

identification of species. Others show in larger detail the flowers or

fruit, and the characteristic leaf-buds in spring.

The figures in the text have all been expressly drawn for the work with

a view to showing at a glance the general character of the foliage, and

in most cases the flower and fruit.

The work is divided into two sections. Part I. including those species

that are generally considered to be indigenous to the British Islands,

with briefer notices of the introduced species that are closely related

to them. Part II. being devoted to those of foreign origin, some of them

introduced so long ago that they are commonly regarded as native by

those who are not botanists.

INTRODUCTORY.

There are two points of view from which to regard trees--the mercantile

and the aesthetic. The former is well exemplified in Dumbiedyke's advice

to Jock: "Jock, when ye hae naething else to do, ye may be aye sticking

in a tree; it will be growing, Jock, when ye're sleeping." The canny

Scot was thinking of the "unearned increment" another generation might

gather in, due to the almost unceasing activity of the vegetable cells

in the manufacture of timber. The other view was expressed by "the

Autocrat of the Breakfast-table" in a letter to a friend: "Whenever we

plant a tree we are doing what we can to make our planet a more

wholesome and happier dwelling-place for those who come after us, if not

for ourselves." But, after all, it is the trees that have been planted

by Nature that give the greatest pleasure apart from commercial

considerations--the lonely Pine, that grows in rugged grandeur on the

edge of the escarpment where its seed was planted in the crevice by the

wind; the Oak that grows outside the forest, where a squirrel or a jay

dropped the acorn, and where the young tree had room all its life to

throw out its arms as it would; the little cluster of Birches that

springs from the ferns and moss of the hillside. All trees so grown

develop an individuality that is not apparent in their fellows of the

timber forest; and however we may delight in the peace and quiet of the

forest, with its softened light and cool fragrant air, we can there only

regard the trees in a mass. We might, indeed, reverse the old saying,

and declare that we cannot see the trees on account of the wood.

Nature and the timber-producer have different aims and pursue different

methods in the making of forests, though the latter is not above taking

a hint from the former occasionally. Nature mixes her seeds and sows

them broadcast over the land she intends to turn into forest, that the

more vigorous kinds may act as nurses, sheltering and protecting the

less robust. Then comes the struggle for existence, with its final

ending in the survival of the fittest. In the mean time the mixed forest

has given shelter to an enormous population of smaller fry--plants,

mammals, birds, and insects--and has been a delightful recreation ground

for man. The timber-producer aims at so controlling the struggle for

existence that the survival of the fit is maintained from start to

finish. He plants his young trees in regular order, putting in nurses at

intervals and along the borders, intending to cut them down when his

purpose has been served. The timber trees are allowed no elbow-room, the

putting forth of lateral branches is discouraged, but steady upward

growth and the production of "canopy" is abetted. His aim is to get

these timber-sticks as near alike as possible, free from individuality,

and with the minimum of difference in girth at top and bottom of each

pole. This means a thicker and longer balk of clean timber when the tree

is felled and squared. The continuous canopy induces growth in the

upward direction only, and discourages the weeds and undergrowth that

add to the charm of the forest, but which unprofitably use up the

wood-producing elements in the soil. This plan contrasts strongly with

the views on planting formerly prevalent in this country, John Evelyn,

for example, making a special point of giving the Oak room to stretch

out its arms, "free from all incumbrances." But, then, unlike the

timber-producers, Evelyn had an eye for landscape beauty, and giving an

opportunity for the display of such beauty. He says: "And if thus his

Majesty's forests and chases were stored, viz. with this spreading tree

at handsome intervals, by which grazing might be improved for the

feeding of deer and cattle under them (for such was the old Saltus),

being only visited with the gleams of the sun, and adorned with the

distant landscapes appearing through the glades and frequent valleys,

nothing could be more ravishing."

The greater the success of the forester, the more profound is the solemn

stillness of the forest--and the more monotonous. In place of the

natural forest, with its varied and teeming life, we have what

Wordsworth called a timber factory. In the natural forest, with its

mixture of many kinds of trees, the undergrowth of shrubs, and carpet of

grass and weeds, the stronger trees spread out their arms in all

directions, and fritter away (as the scientific forester would say)

their wood-producing powers in making much firewood and little valuable

timber. But the result is very beautiful, and the nature-lover can

wander among it without tiring, and can study without exhausting its

treasures. Emerson says: "In the woods is perpetual youth. Within these

plantations of God a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is

dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand

years." To the scientific forester this is all waste land, and he pleads

for the "higher culture" being applied to it. With every desire that the

natural resources of our country should be properly developed, we do

hope that he will not be entirely successful in his efforts, and that a

few of the woods and wastes of Nature's own planting may be left for the

recreation of the simple folk who have not yet taken to appraising the

value of everything by the price it will fetch in the market.

The trees described in this volume are the really wild growths that have

lived a natural life; and though many of the photographs are from

planted trees, they are such as have been allowed to grow as they would,

and show the characteristic branching of the species.

A few words on the life of a tree may be welcomed here by those readers

who have not made a study of botany. Although the nurseryman makes use

of suckers and cuttings for the quicker multiplication of certain

species, every tree in its natural habitat produces seeds and is

reproduced by them. The flowering of our forest trees is a phenomenon

that does not as a rule attract attention, but their fruiting or

seed-bearing becomes patent to all who visit the woods in autumn. A tree

has lived many years before it is capable of producing seed. The

seed-bearing age is different in each species; thus the Oak begins to

bear when it is between sixty and seventy years old, the Ash between

forty and fifty, the Birch and Sweet Chestnut at twenty-five years. Some

produce seed every year after that period is reached, others every

second, third, or fifth year; others, again, bear fitfully except at

intervals of from six to nine years, when they produce an enormous crop.

Most tree-seeds germinate in the spring following their maturity, but

they are not all distributed when ripe. The Birch, the Elm, and the

Aspen, for examples, retain their seeds until spring, and these

germinate soon after they have been dispersed.

The seeds contain sufficient nutriment to feed the seedling whilst it is

developing it roots and first real leaves. We can, of course, go further

back in starting our observations of the life progress of the monarch of

the forest. We can dissect the insignificant greenish flower of the Oak

when the future seed (acorn) is but a single cell, a tiny bag filled

with protoplasm. From that early stage to the period when the tree is

first ripe for conversion into timber we span a century and a half,

equal to two good human lives, and the Oak is but at the point where a

man attains his majority. The Oak is built up after the fashion by which

man attains to his full stature. It is a process of multiplication of

weak, minute cells, which become specialized for distinct offices in the

economy of the vegetable community we call a tree. Some go to renew and

enlarge the roots, others to the perfecting of that system of vessels

through which the crude fluids from the roots are carried up to the

topmost leaf, whence, after undergoing chemical transformation in the

leaf laboratory, it is circulated to all parts of the organism to make

possible the production of more cells. Each of these has a special task,

and it becomes invested with cork or wood to enable it to become part of

the bark or the timber; or it remains soft and develops the green

colouring matter, which enables it, when exposed to sunlight, to

manufacture starch from carbon and water.

This is very similar to what takes place in the human organism, where

the nutriment taken in is used up in the production of new cells, which

are differentiated into muscle-cells, bone-cells, epidermal-cells, and

so forth, building up or renewing muscles or nerves, bones or arteries;

but the mechanism of distribution is different, the heart-pump doing the

work of capillary attraction and gravitation. The ancients believed in

the Dryads, spirits that were imprisoned in trees, and whose life was

coterminous with that of the tree; and it will be seen that they had

stronger physical justification for their belief than they knew.

Shakespeare relates how Sycorax, the witch-mother of Caliban, imprisoned

Ariel in a tree; and Huxley finely tells us that "The plant is an animal

confined in a wooden case; and Nature, like Sycorax, holds thousands of

'delicate Ariels' imprisoned in every oak. She is jealous of letting us

know this; and among the higher and more conspicuous forms of plants

reveals it only by such obscure manifestations as the shrinking of the

Sensitive Plant, the sudden clasp of the Dionaea, or, still more

slightly, by the phenomena of the cyclosis."

The tree, as we have indicated, gets its food from the air and the soil.

The rootlets have the power of dissolving the mineral salts in the soil

in which they ramify; some authorities believing that they are

materially helped in this respect--so far as organic matter is

concerned--by a fungus that invests them with a mantle of delicate

threads. However that may be, the fluid that is taken up by the roots is

not merely water, but water plus dissolved mineral matter and nitrogen.

At the same time as the roots are thus absorbing liquid nutriment, the

leaves, pierced with thousands of little _stomata_, or mouths, take in

atmospheric air, which is compounded chiefly of the gases oxygen and

carbon. The leaf-cells containing the green colouring matter

(_chlorophyll_) seize hold of the carbon and release the oxygen. The

carbon is then combined with the fluid from the roots by the vital

chemistry of the leaves, and is circulated all over the system for the

sustenance of all the organs and tissues.

The flowering of the trees varies so greatly that it can only be dealt

with satisfactorily as each species is described. It may be stated,

however, that all the true forest trees are wind-fertilized, and

therefore have inconspicuous greenish blossoms. By true forest trees we

mean those that alone or slightly mixed are capable of forming high

forest. The smaller trees, such as Crab, Rowan, Cherry, Blackthorn,

Hawthorn, Buckthorn, etc., belong more to the open woodland, to the

common and the hedgerow. These, from their habitat, can be seen singly,

and therefore can make use of the conspicuous flowers that are

fertilized by insects.

WAYSIDE AND WOODLAND TREES.

PART I.

NATIVE TREES AND SHRUBS.

The Oak (_Quercus robur_).

When good John Evelyn wrote his "Sylva, or a Discourse of Forest Trees,"

he was greatly concerned lest our "wooden walls" should diminish in

strength for want of a succession of stout Oaks in our woodlands, and

therefore he put the Oak in the forefront of his discourse. To-day steel

and teak have largely supplanted oak in the building of our navy, and

our walls of defence are no longer of wood. Yet in spite of these

changes, and the consequent reduction of the Oak's importance, we must

still look upon it as the typical British tree, and, regardless of its

place in botanical classifications, we shall follow the lead of our

master and place it first on our list.

There is no necessity for entering upon a minute description of the

botanical characters of so well known a tree. The sturdy, massive trunk,

firm as a rock; the broad, rounded outline of its head, caused by the

downward sweeping extremities of the wide-spreading lower limbs; the

wavy outline of the lobed leaves, and the equally distinct

egg-and-cup-shaped fruit--these are characters that cannot be confused

with those of any other tree, and are the most familiar objects in the

landscape in most parts of our islands. To my mind, no wood is so

awe-inspiring as one filled with old oaks, all so much alike, yet each

with a distinct individuality. We regard with reverence a human

centenarian, who may have nothing beyond his great age to commend him to

us; but we think of the long period of history of which he has been a

spectator, possibly an active maker of history. The huge Oak has

probably lived through ten or twenty such periods. Compared with the

Oak, man is but of mushroom growth. It does not produce an acorn until

sixty or seventy years old, and even then it is not mature. Not till a

century and a half have passed over its head is its timber fit for use,

and as a rule it is not felled under the age of two hundred years. Many

trees are left to a much greater age, or we should not have still with

us so many venerable specimens, and where they have not been left until

partially decayed, the timber is found to be still very valuable when

finally cut down. Of one of these patriarchs of the forest, cut down in

the year 1810, we have figures of quantity and value from a contemporary

record. It was known as the Gelenos Oak, and stood about four miles from

Newport, Monmouthshire. When felled, it yielded 2426 cubic feet of sound

timber, and six tons of bark. It was bought just as it stood for [L]405,

and the purchaser had to pay [L]82 for labour for stripping, felling, and

converting into timber. Five men were employed for twenty days in

stripping the bark and felling the tree, and after that a pair of

sawyers, working six days a week, were five months cutting it up. But

the bark realized [L]200, and the timber about [L]400. The timber and bark

from this one tree were about equal to the average produce of three

acres of oak coppice after fifteen years growth.

[Illustration: _Pl. 2._ Oak--summer.]

[Illustration: _Pl. 3._ Oak--winter.]

Full-grown oaks vary in height from sixty to one hundred and thirty

feet, the difference depending upon situation; the tallest, of

course, being those that have been drawn up in forests, at the expense

of their branches. Trees growing freely in the open are of less height,

and are made to appear comparative dwarfs by the huge proportions of the

bole. In the forest this may be no more than ten feet in girth, but in

isolated specimens may be as much as fifty-four feet (Cowthorpe Oak),

with a much broader base. The thick rough bark is deeply furrowed in a

large network pattern, which affords temporary hiding-places for

insects. The branches are much given to turn and zig-zag from side to

side--a character that makes them very useful in boat-building, as

"knees" of various angles may be cut from them without having recourse

to bending. The best knees are to be obtained from Oaks grown in the

hedgerow.

[Illustration: Oak. A, female flower; B, male flowers.]

The Oak flowers in April or May, and the blossoms are of two distinct

forms--male and female. The males are in little clusters, which are

borne at intervals along a hanging stalk, two or three inches in length.

They are green, and therefore inconspicuous; but examined separately,

they will be found to have a definite calyx, whose margin is cut into an

uncertain number (4-7) of lobes. There are no petals, but attached to

the sides of the calyx there are ten stamens. The female flowers are

fewer, and will be found on short erect stalks above the male catkins.

Each female flower consists of a calyx, invested by a number of

overlapping scales, and enclosing an ovary with three styles. The ovary

is divided into three cells, each containing two seed-eggs. An acorn

should therefore contain six kernels, but, as a rule, only one of the

seed-eggs develops, though occasionally an acorn contains two kernels.

The overlapping scales at the base of the female flower become the rough

cup that holds the acorn.

The Oak is subject to a considerable amount of variation, probably due

to differences of situation, soil, etc., and some authors have sought to

elevate certain of the varieties into species by giving them distinctive

names. It does not appear to be certain, however, that these forms are

at all constant, and they are connected by intermediate forms that make

the identification of many individuals a matter of difficulty. In one of

these forms (_sessiliflora_) the stalk of the acorns connecting them

with the branch is very short, but the leaves have a distinct footstalk,

from half an inch to an inch long. This form is more plentiful in the

north and west, and is conspicuous in the Forest of Dean. A second form,

known as _pedunculata_, has the leaf-stalk short or absent, the base

of the leaf broad and somewhat heart-shaped, and the stalk upon which

the acorns are borne very long. A third form (_intermedia_), commonly

known as Durmast, has short leaf-stalks, short stalks to the acorns, and

the under side of the leaf downy. _Pedunculata_ is found more on the

lower hills and the sides of valleys, whilst _sessiliflora_ prefers

higher ground, with a southern or western aspect.

[Illustration: _Pl. 4._ Bole of Oak.]

[Illustration: _Pl. 5._ Flowers of Oak.]

The Oak is most abundant on clay soils, but is at its best when growing

in deep sandy loam, where there is also plenty of humus. Its roots in

such soil strike down to a depth of five feet, and therefore it thrives

in association with Beech, whose roots are much nearer the surface, and

whose fallen leaves supply it with humus.

The Oak is more persistently attacked by insects than any other tree.

One authority (Leunis) has tabulated the species that get their living

mainly or entirely from their attacks on the foliage, timber, or bark,

and they number about five hundred. With some species this warfare is

waged on so extensive a scale, that in some years by early summer the

Oaks are almost divested of their foliage, and a new crop of leaves

becomes a necessity. But the reserve forces of the Oak are quite equal

to this drain, and the tree does not appear to suffer, though a much

less thorough attack would be serious to a Conifer. One of the worst of

these Oak-spoilers--though it by no means restricts its energies to

attacks on this tree--is the Mottled Umber Moth (_Hibernia defoliaria_),

whose pretty caterpillars may be seen hanging by silken threads from the

leafless twigs.

A striking Oak insect is the Stag Beetle (_Lucanus cervus_), which, in

warm evenings in the south of England, may be seen flying round the

Oaks, the size and antler-like jaws of the male arousing feelings of

respect in the minds of those who are not acquainted with its habits.

The formidable looking "horns" are usually harmless. The beetle spends

its larval stage in the wood of unhealthy Oaks, and, when mature, seeks

his hornless mate among its foliage.

Perhaps the most interesting of the Oak's pensioners to the woodland

rambler will be the varied forms of gall on different parts of the tree.

There is the so-called Oak-apple, of uneven surface and spongy to the

touch, which certain people still wear on May 29th, in honour of Charles

II.; the well-rounded hard Bullet-gall of _Cynips kollari_, the

Artichoke-gall of _Cynips gemmae_, the Spangle-galls of _Neuroterus

lenticularis_, so plentiful on the back of the leaf, and the Root-gall

of _Biorhiza aptera_. All these galls are abnormal growths, due to the

irritation set up by the Gall-wasps named, when they pierced the young

tissues in order to lay their eggs in them. Where any of these galls are

perforated it may be known that the Gall-wasp whose grub fed within has

flown, but where there is no such perforation the grub is still within,

feeding upon the flesh of the gall, or in the chrysalis stage, awaiting

translation to the winged condition.

Several Oaks of foreign origin are also grown in our parks and open

spaces; among them the Holm Oak (_Quercus ilex_) whose evergreen

leathery leaves have toothed or plain edges, and occasionally the lower

ones develop marginal spines, whence its name of Holm or Holly Oak. It

is notable for retaining its lower branches, so that its appearance, as

Loudon remarks, "even when fully grown, is that of an immense bush,

rather than that of a timber tree." It is a native of Southern Europe

and North Africa, and appears to have been introduced about the middle

of the sixteenth century. It usually attains a height of from twenty to

thirty feet, but occasionally specimens are seen up to sixty feet. It

has a much thinner, more even bark than that of our native Oak, and of a

black colour. The long brown acorns do not ripen until the second year.

[Illustration: _Pl. 6._ Holm Oak.]

[Illustration: _Pl. 7._ Acorns of Turkey Oak.]

The Turkey Oak (_Quercus cerris_) is a much larger tree, attaining to

similar heights to our British Oak, but easily distinguishable by its

more pyramidal outline, and its attenuated leaves. The lance-shaped

lobes of these are unequal, sharp, and angular; and the footless

acorn-cups are covered with bristly or mossy-looking scales. The acorns,

which are small and exceedingly bitter, rarely ripen till their second

autumn. The whole tree--trunk, branches, and twigs--is of straighter

growth than _Quercus robur_. It is a native of Southern Europe and the

Levant, and was introduced about one hundred and seventy years ago.

The spring rambler in the woods may come upon a party of woodmen

stripping young Oaks of their bark, or felling them, whilst cylinders of

separated bark rest across poles in the process of drying. This is the

industry of barking for the purpose of the tanner. When the Oaks in a

coppice are about sixteen years old they are most suitable for this

purpose, the bark then containing a larger percentage of _tannin_ than

at any other period. The operation is best performed in May, when the

sap is in flow, and should be completed between the first swelling of

the leaf-buds and the unrolling of the leaves. If the weather is cold

and damp the bark will peel the better, provided there is an absence of

north or east winds. Before the tree is cut down the bole is stripped,

the first ring being taken from just above the roots to a height of two

and a half feet above. When the tree is felled, it is cut into lengths

and the bark stripped from them; then all branches that are an inch or

more in diameter are peeled. The bark is piled to dry for a couple of

weeks, and is then broken into small pieces and sent away in sacks.

It is not alone in the use of the bark that the tannic acid of the Oak

is made evident; it is to the presence of this that the austerity of the

acorn is due, and also the ink-producing properties of certain

Oak-galls. Everything connected with the tree gets a roughness of

flavour from this same principle. Even that remarkable fungus, the

Vegetable Beef-steak, that may be found on old Oaks in autumn, is

impregnated with it.

Prior regards the name Oak (Anglo-Saxon _ac_) as originally belonging to

the fruit, and only later transferred to the tree that produces it. The

more obvious explanation (though we know that in etymological and other

matters the obvious is not always the true interpretation) is, that

acorn (ac-corn) signified the corn or fruit of the ac. Selby tells us

that "During the Anglo-Saxon rule, and even for some time after the

Conquest, Oak-forests were chiefly valued for the fattening of swine.

Laws relating to pannage, or the fattening of hogs in the forest, were

enacted during the Heptarchy; and by Ina's statutes, any person wantonly

injuring or destroying an Oak-tree was mulcted in a fine varying

according to size, or the quantity of mast it produced."

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Pl. 8._ Fruit of Beech.]

[Illustration: _Pl. 9._ Beech--summer.]

[Illustration: _Pl. 10._ Acorns of Pedunculate Oak.]

The Beech (_Fagus sylvatica_).

We speak of the Oak as the "Monarch of the Woods," and to the Beech the

title "Mother of Forests" has been given. To the timber-merchant the

Beech has little importance, but the grower of timber freely

acknowledges his heavy indebtedness to this nursing mother, for, in the

words of Professor Gayer, the Bavarian forestry expert, "without Beech

there can no more be properly tended forests of broad-leaved genera, as

along with it would have to be given up many other valuable

timber-trees, whose production is only possible with the aid of Beech."

Quite apart from utilitarian considerations, we should be very sorry to

lose the Beech, with its towering, massive shaft clad in smooth grey

bark, its spreading roots above the soil, and the dense shade of its

fine foliage. Fortunately for the lover of natural beauty, it is this

luxuriant growth of leaves and the shade it gives that are the redeeming

virtues of the Beech in the eye of the forester. Its drip destroys

most of the soil-exhausting weeds, its shade protects the soil from

over-evaporation, and the heavy crop of leaves enriches it by their

decomposition. On these points the forestry experts of to-day join hands

with John Evelyn, who, nearly 250 years ago, thus referred to it--"The

shade unpropitious to corn and grass, but sweet, and of all the rest,

most refreshing to the weary shepherd--_lentus in umbra_, echoing

Amaryllis with his oaten pipe." And, again, after giving us a long

catalogue of the varied uses to which Beechwood may be put, he

adds--"Yet for all this, you would not wonder to hear me deplore the so

frequent use of this wood, if you did consider that the industry of

France furnishes that country for all domestic utensils with excellent

Walnut, a material infinitely preferable to the best Beech, which is

indeed good only for shade and for the fire." In the days of open

hearths and chimney corners the Beech was extensively used for fuel, and

it is still reputed to make good charcoal; but to-day the chairmaker and

the turner are the chief users of its wood.

[Illustration: _Pl. 11._ Bole of Beech.]

The Beech well grown attains a height of about 100 feet, and a girth of

20 feet. There was, until recently, a Beech in Norbury Park, Surrey, 160

feet in height. Its branches horizontally spreading gave it a head of

enormous proportions. Hooker gives the _diameter_ of the Knowle Beech as

352 feet, which means a circumference of about as many yards. It will

grow in most upland places where the Oak thrives, though it does not

need so deep a soil, and has a preference for land containing lime.

Fresh mineral soils, rich in humus, are the best for it. In poor soils

its growth is slow and its life is longer. It begins to bear mostly at

about eighteen years of age, and thereafter gives good crops at

intervals of three or five years.

In spring, just before the buds expand, the twigs of the Beech have a

very distinct appearance. They are long and slender, placed alternately

along the twig, and the brown envelopes retain their shape long after

they have been cast off. It is interesting to note how well these are

mimicked by a glossy spindle-shaped snail (_Clausilia laminata_) that

has a decided fondness for the Beech. As the snails crawl up the bole or

over the moss at its base, it is not easy at a glance to say which are

snails and which bud-envelopes. This is one of the protective

resemblances adopted by many animals to give them a chance of eluding

their natural enemies--in this case the thrush and other birds.

In the bud the leaf is folded fan-wise, and the folds run parallel with

the nerves. They expand into an oval, smooth-faced leaf, with slightly

scooped edges, and a most delicate fringe of short gossamer, which falls

off later. These leaves Evelyn recommended as a stuffing for beds,

declaring that if "gathered about the fall, and somewhat before they are

much frost-bitten, [they] afford the best and easiest mattresses in the

world to lay under our quilts instead of straw.... In Switzerland I have

sometimes lain on them to my great refreshment." That last clause seems

to imply that the authorities at home would not allow the introduction

of new-fangled bed-stuffings, but remained true to straw. These leaves

are rich in potash, and as they readily decay, they produce an admirable

humus. In sheltered places the leaves, turned to a light ruddy-brown

colour, are retained on the lower branches until cast off by the

expansion of the new buds.

In early summer, whilst the leaves are still pellucid, the shade of a

big Beech is particularly inviting. Later the leaves become opaque, and

their glossy surfaces throw back the heat rays. Then the play of light

upon the great mass of foliage is very fine; but when autumn has turned

their deep green to orange and warm ruddy brown, and they catch the red

rays of the westering sun, the tree appears to be turned into a blazing

fire.

[Illustration: _Pl. 12._ Beech--winter.]

[Illustration: Leaves, flowers, and fruit of Beech.

A, female; B, male flowers.]

The Beech flowers in April or May. The blossoms are rather more

conspicuous than is the case with the Oak, for the male flowers are

gathered together in a hanging purplish-brown rounded tassel with yellow

anthers. The female flowers, to the number of two, three, or four, are

clustered in a "cupule" of overlapping scales, like those of the Oak.

But in the Beech the "cupule" becomes a bristly closed box, which

afterwards opens by one end splitting into four triangular

silk-hair-lined valves, which turn back and reveal the three-sided,

sharp-edged "mast." This mast was formerly a very valuable product of

the Beech-woods, when herds of swine were turned in them to feed upon

the fallen Beech-nuts. Agricultural methods have changed; but though

our hogs are now confined in styes, and fed on a diet that more rapidly

fattens, Beech-mast is still a good food eagerly taken by such woodland

denizens as badgers, deer, squirrels, and dormice.

The vitality of the Beech is so high that quite frequently the bole

divides at its upper part into several trunks, which rise straight up,

and each attains the dimensions of a complete tree. Often such a tree

stands on a sandy bank, and seems in imminent danger of toppling over,

but its uprightness secures it against strain, and the roots that it

sent down the steep side of the bank have thickened into strong props.

Many such trees may be found along the hollow lanes in the Greensand

district of Surrey, and we have more than once sheltered from a storm

under their roots.

We have already mentioned the value of the Beech as a nurse for other

trees, and its frequent use for that purpose, but it should also be

stated that it is a powerful competitor with other trees, and if these

are left to fight their own battles unaided, the Beech will be the

conqueror. Evelyn saw this more than two centuries ago, and pointed out

that where mixed woods of Oak and Beech were left to themselves, they

ultimately became pure Beech woods. The Beech appears to gain this

advantage through rooting in the surface soil, and, exhausting it of

food elements, suffers none to penetrate to the lower strata, where the

Oak has its roots.

A number of insects feed upon the Beech, but they are mostly more

beautiful or more singular than destructive. The Copper Beech, which is

so effectively used for ornament in parks, is merely a sub-variety of

the Common Beech, and all the examples in cultivation are believed to be

"sports" from the purple variety, which itself was a natural sport

discovered in a German wood little more than a hundred years ago.

The modern word Beech is derived from the Anglo-Saxon _boc_, _bece_,

_beoce_, which had very similar equivalents in all branches of the

German and Scandinavian family, and from the fact that the literature of

these people was inscribed on tablets of Beech, our word _book_ has the

same origin.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Pl. 13._ Birch--summer.]

[Illustration: _Pl. 14._ Bole of Birch.]

[Illustration: _Pl. 15._ Catkins of Birch.]

The Birch (_Betula alba_).

"The Lady of the Woods," as Coleridge christened the Birch, is at once

the most graceful, the hardiest, and the most ubiquitous of our forest

trees. It grows throughout the length and breadth of our islands, and

seems happy alike on a London common, in a suburban garden, or far up in

the Scottish highlands (2500 feet). It penetrates farther north than any

other tree, and its presence is a great boon to the natives of Lapland.

It will grow where it is subjected to great heat, as well as where it

must endure extreme cold, with its slender roots exploring the beds of

peat, the rich humus of the old wood, or the raw soil of the

mountain-side, where it has to cling to rocks and a few mosses. Given

plenty of light, and it seems to care for little else. Though a mere

shrub in the far north, with us the Birch has a trunk sometimes as tall

as eighty, but more frequently fifty feet, and a girth of from two to

three feet. In its first decade it increases in height at the rate of a

foot and a half or two feet in a year; but, of course, there is little

breadth to be built up at the same time. It reaches maturity in half a

century, and before the other half is reached the Birch will have passed

away.

The bark of the Birch is more enduring than its timber, which may be

partly due to its habit of casting off the outer layer in shreds, like

fine tissue-paper, from time to time. The greater part of the bark is

silvery white, which adds to the apparent slenderness of the tree, and

makes it conspicuous from a long distance; for the attenuated and

drooping branches, dressed in small and loosely hung leaves, sway so

constantly that the trunk is scarcely hidden. The glossy, leathery

leaves vary in shape from a triangular form to a pointed oval, their

edges doubly toothed, and their footstalks long and slender.

[Illustration: Birch leaves and catkins.]

About April the hanging catkins of the Birch, which were in evidence in

the previous autumn, have matured and become dark crimson; the scales

separate and expose the two stamens of each flower, which has a single

sepal. The female flowers are in a short, more erect spike, which

consists of overlapping scales (_bracts_), each containing two or three

flowers. The flowers have neither petals nor sepals, each consisting

merely of an ovary with two slender styles. After fertilization the

female spike has developed into a little oblong cone. The minute nuts

have a pair of delicate wings to each, and as they are set free from the

cones they flutter on the breeze like a swarm of small flies. The moss

that usually covers the ground beneath the Birch will be found in

October to be thickly speckled with these fruits, which are something

more than seeds, as they are commonly termed; they are really analogous

to the acorn--a nut within a thin shell. The tree sometimes begins to

produce seed when only fifteen years old; but, as a rule, it is ten

years older before it bears, and thereafter it has a crop every year.

It is strange how so striking and graceful a tree could have been so

persistently ignored by the old school of landscape painters, when one

remembers with what good effect modern artists have utilized it. In this

connection we need not apologize for quoting at length a description of

the tree from the artist's point of view, because it also gives

attention to those points one would like the rambler to notice. Mr. P.

G. Hamerton in his _Sylvan Year_, says--

"The stem ... of the Silver Birch is one of the masterpieces of Nature.

Everything has been done to heighten its unrivalled brilliance. The

horizontal peeling of the bark, making dark rings at irregular

distances, the brown spots, the dark colour of the small twigs, the

rough texture near the ground, and the exquisite silky smoothness of the

tight white bands above, offer exactly that variety of contrast which

makes us feel a rare quality like that smooth whiteness as strongly as

we are capable of feeling it. And amongst the common effects in all

northern countries, one of the most brilliant is the opposition of birch

trunks in sunshine against the deep blue or purple of a mountain

distance in shadow. At all seasons of the year the beauty of the birch

is attractive and peculiarly its own. The young beech may remind you of

it occasionally under strong effects of light, and is also very

graceful, but we have no tree that rivals the birch in its own

qualities of colour and form, still less in that air and bearing which

are so much more difficult to describe. In winter you see the full

delicacy of the sprays that the lightest foliage hides, and in early

spring this tree clothes itself, next after the willow, with tiny

triangular leaves, inexpressibly light in the mass, so that from a

distance they have the effect of a green mist rather than anything more

material. When the tree is isolated sufficiently to come against the

sky, you may see one of the prettiest sights in Nature--the pure deep

azure of heaven, with the silvery white and fresh green of the birch in

opposition. And yet it is not a crude green, for there is a good deal of

warm red in it, which gives one of those precious tertiaries that all

true colourists value."

Linnaeus named our common Birch _Betula alba_; but more than a century

ago Ehrhart pointed out that there were two well-defined forms of the

tree, which he proposed to separate as distinct species under the names

of _B. verrucosa_ and _B. pubescens_. Hooker regards the first of these

as the typical form, for which he properly retains the Linnaean name. It

is distinguished by having the base of the bole covered with coarse,

rough, and blackish bark, the _smooth_ leaves looking as though their

base had been cut off, and the twigs warty. The _B. pubescens_ of

Ehrhart appears to be a variety of Fries' _B. glutinosa_, which Hooker

treats as a sub-species of _B. alba_. The bark at its base is smooth and

white, its _downy_ leaves have a triangular base, and its twigs are free

from warts. It sometimes assumes a bush-like form.

The Dwarf Birch (_Betula nana_) is a distinct species, which occurs

locally in the mountainous parts of Northumberland and Scotland. It is

not a tree, but a bush, only two or three feet in height. Its

firm-textured, round leaves have scalloped margins and short footstalks.

[Illustration: _Pl. 16._ Birch--winter.]

The foliage of the Birch in autumn turns to a yellow hue. At this

period--and, indeed, for a month earlier--there may be seen beneath

the Birch-trees one of the most striking of our toadstools, the Fly

Agaric (_Amanita muscarius_), so-called from its use as the lethal

ingredient in the making of fly-papers. From a bulbous base a creamy

yellow stem arises, decked about half its height with an ample hanging

frill. The upper side of the spreading "cap" is painted with crimson,

over which are scattered flecks of white or cream kid--the remains of an

outer envelope that was ruptured by the expansion of the cap, and of

which the frill represents the lower portion. This species is really

poisonous, and the Kamschatkans are said to make their _vodka_

superlatively intoxicating by the addition of this fungus to it. On the

trunk of the Birch may sometimes be found a large fungus named

_Polyporus betulinus_, whose root-like portion penetrates the bark and

sucks up the sap.

Birch-bark is used for tanning certain kinds of leather, and the

peculiar odour of Russian leather is said to be due to the use of Birch

in its preparation. The Birch agrees with the Beech in two respects--it

is of little value for timber, but as a nurse to young timber-trees it

is of considerable importance. Its name is from the Anglo-Saxon _beorc_,

_birce_, and signifies the Bark-tree.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Pl. 17._ Alder--summer.]

The Alder (_Alnus glutinosa_).

Although the Alder is abundant by riversides and in all low-lying moist

lands as far north as Caithness, it is not so generally well known at

sight as the Oak, the Beech, and the Birch. It is a small tree

ordinarily only thirty to forty feet in height, with a girth from three

to six feet, though occasionally it aspires to seventy feet in height.

This is when it is growing in moist loam, upon which rain or floods have

washed down good layers of humus from woods at a higher elevation. If,

with its roots thus well cared for, its head is in a humid atmosphere,

the Alder is in happy case. If it has had the misfortune to get into a

porous soil, though this may be moist enough to please an Ash, the

Alder becomes merely a big bush.

[Illustration: Alder.]

The bark of the Alder is rough and black, and the wood soft. Whilst the

tree is alive its wood is white, but when cut and exposed to the air it

becomes red; finally, on drying, it changes to a pinkish tint. As timber

it has no great reputation, except for piles or other submerged

purposes, when it is said to be exceedingly durable. It has also enjoyed

a great reputation for making the best charcoal for the gunpowder mills,

and it is largely used by the turner, the wood-carver, and the

cabinet-maker. The leaves, which have short stalks, and are from two

to four inches long, are roundish with a wedge-shaped base. They have a

waved and toothed margin, and remain green long after the leaves of

other trees have fallen. In their young condition these leaves are

covered with hairs, and are sticky to the touch, and it is to this fact

that the name _glutinosa_ has reference.

[Illustration: _Pl. 18._ Catkins of Alder.]

[Illustration: _Pl. 19._ Bole of Alder.]

The flowering of the Alder is very similar to that of the Birch, but the

male catkins have red scales, and each flower four stamens. The female

spikes have the fleshy scales covered by red-brown bracts of a woody

consistence, which persist after the fruit has dropped out of them. Seed

is not produced until the Alder is twenty years old, and the crop is

repeated almost every year after. The cones are ripe about October or

November, when they scatter their fruit, but the empty ones persist in

hanging to the branches throughout the winter in numbers sufficient to

give the leafless tree a brown appearance from a little distance. The

immature male catkins are in evidence at the same time.

There is a variety (_incisa_) of the Alder in which the leaves are so

deeply toothed that they bear a close resemblance to those of the

Hawthorn.

In some localities the tree is called the Howler and Aller, the latter

word apparently the original name, for its Anglo-Saxon forms were

_aelr_, _alr_, and _aler_.

[Illustration: _Pl. 20._ Alder--winter.]

The Hornbeam (_Carpinus betulus_).