close superficial likeness, but a comparison of leaves, flowers, or bole
would at once make the differences obvious. It is usually found in
similar situations to the Beech, though it does not ascend so far up the
hills as that species. On dry, poor soils it does not attain its full
proportions and may only be classed as a small tree; but when growing on
low ground, in rich loam or good clay, it reaches a height of seventy
feet, with a girth of ten feet. If two measurements of the bole's
diameter be taken at right angles to each other, they will be found to
differ greatly. A section of the trunk will not show a circular outline,
but rather an ellipse, the bole appearing to have been flattened on two
sides. It is coated with a smooth grey bark, usually spotted with white.
The leaves are less symmetrical than those of Beech, and are broader
towards the base. They are of rougher texture, hairy on the underside,
and their edges are doubly toothed. In autumn they turn yellow, then to
ruddy gold, but a few days later they have settled into the rusty hue
they retain throughout the winter, in those cases where they remain on
the tree until spring.
The wood is exceedingly tough, and not to be worked up with ease, but it
is considered to make admirable fuel. Evelyn says, "It burns like a
candle." There are those who say that the name Hornbeam has reference to
the tough or hornlike character of its beams; others declare that in the
days when bullocks were yoked to the plough the yoke was made of this
wood, as being fitted by its toughness to stand the strain, and as it
was attached to the horns, it became the horn-beam. A third theory is
that the name was derived from _Ornus_, the Manna-ash, with which early
botanists confused it, but with all respect to the authority of Dr.
Prior, who favours it, we prefer to stand on the first suggestion, with
old John Gerarde, who says ("Herball," 1633): "In time it waxeth so hard
that the toughnesse and hardnesse of it may be rather compared to horn
than unto wood, and therefore it was called Hornbeam or hardbeam." The
carpenter is not pleased who has hornbeam to work up, for his tools lose
their edge far too quickly for his labour to be profitable. Evelyn tells
us that it was called by some the Horse-beech, from the resemblance of
the leaves.
[Illustration: _Pl. 21._ Hornbeam--summer.]
[Illustration: Hornbeam.]
The two kinds of catkins are similar and cylindrical, but whilst the
male is pendulous from the beginning, the female is erect until after
the formation of the fruit, when it gradually assumes the hanging
position. The bracts of the male are oval, with sharp tips, each
containing an uncertain (3-12) number of stamens. In the female the
bracts fall early, but their place is taken by three-lobed bracteoles,
which enlarge after flowering, and become an inch or an inch and a half
long. A single flower occupies each bracteole, consisting of a
two-celled ovary and two styles. Only one cell develops, so that the
hard green fruit contains but one seed. The appearance of these fruits
in autumn as they hang in a spray from the underside of the branches is
quite distinct from those of any other of our native trees.
The Hornbeam's title to be considered indigenous has had some doubts
thrown upon it because there are some records of specimens having been
introduced during the fifteenth century, but that is not sufficient
ground upon which to deny nationality. We have known persons to bring
home from distant parts as treasures wild plants and ferns that were
growing within a mile of their own homes. It appears to be a real native
of the southern and midland counties of England, and of Wales. A line
drawn across the map from North Wales to Norfolk roughly marks the
limit; north of that line the Hornbeam appears to have been planted, as
also in Ireland.
[Illustration: _Pl. 22._ Hornbeam--winter.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 23._ Bole of Hornbeam.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 24._ Fruits of Hornbeam.]
The Hazel (_Corylus avellana_).
It is rarely that the Hazel is allowed in this country to develop into a
tree; as a rule it is a shrub, forming undergrowth in wood or copse, or
part of a hedge. As it is cut down with the copse or hedge, it cannot
form a standard of any size. But that the Hazel left alone will develop
into a small tree is shown by an example in Eastwell Park, Kent, whose
height a few years ago was thirty feet, with a circumference of three
feet round the bole. As soon as the nuts are formed the bush is easily
identified by all, so that a description of its character is hardly
necessary. The large, roundish, heart-shaped leaves are arranged
alternately in two rows along the straight downy shoots. Their margins
are doubly toothed, and when in the bud they are plaited, the folds
being parallel to the midrib. Soon after the buds open, many of the
leaves assume a purplish tint for a while; in autumn they turn brown,
and finally pale to yellow.
[Illustration: _Pl. 25._ Hazel Catkins.]
[Illustration: Hazel. A, female flowers; B, male flowers.]
Before the leaves appear the Hazel is rendered conspicuous by the male
catkins, which are familiar to country children under the name of
Lamb's-tails. These may be seen in an undeveloped condition in the
autumn, when the nuts are being sought. A cluster of two or three hard,
little, grey-green cylinders is all that may then be seen of them;
but throughout the winter they lengthen, their scales loosen, and in
February they are a couple of inches long, pliant, and yellow with the
abundant pollen which blows out of them as they swing. The female
flowers are by no means conspicuous, and have to be looked for. They
will be found in the form of swollen buds on the upper parts of the
shoots and branches, from which issue some fine crimson threads. These
are the styles and stigmas, and on dissection of the budlike head, each
pair of styles will be seen to spring from a two-celled ovary nestling
between the bracts or scales of which the head is composed. It is only
rarely that the seed-egg in each cell develops; as a rule one shrivels,
and the other develops into the sweet "kernel" of the Hazel-nut. The
shell is the ovary that has become woody and hard; the ragged-edged
leathery "shuck" is the enlarged bracts that surrounded the minute
flower.
The Hazel likes a good soil, and will not really flourish without it,
though it will _grow_ almost anywhere, except where the moisture is
stagnant. Its wood is said to be best when grown on a chalky subsoil. Of
course, as timber, the Hazel does not count, but its tough and pliant
rods and staves are valuable for many small uses, such as the making of
hoops for casks, walking-sticks, and--divining-rods! The bark is smooth
and brown.
The Barcelona nut, imported so largely in winter, is only a variety of
the Hazel; as also the Cob and the Filbert, so largely cultivated in
Kent. The name is the Anglo-Saxon _haesl_, or _haesel_, and signifies a
baton of authority, from the use of its rods in driving cattle and
slaves.
[Illustration: _Pl. 26._ Hazel Nuts.]
The Lime (_Tilia platyphyllos_).
Those persons who obtain their ideas of trees mainly from the specimens
they can see in suburban roads and gardens are in danger of getting
quite a false impression of the Lime. It is a long suffering,
good-tempered tree, and like human individuals of similar temperament,
is subjected to shameful treatment. The suburban gardener who has a row
of Limes to trim uses the saw, and amputates every arm close up to the
shoulder, so that when the season of budding and burgeoning arrives the
row of Limes will look like an upward extension in green of the brick
wall. Such are the atrocities upon which Suburbia has to base its ideas
of one of the most imposing of trees.
[Illustration: _Pl. 27._ Lime-tree--summer.]
The Large-leaved Lime, growing in park-land or meadow, with its roots
deep in good light loam, and its head eighty or ninety feet above, is
quite another matter. Such a tree is a thing of beauty, and one can
stand long at its base looking up among the wide-spreading limbs so well
clothed with leaves of fine texture and tint. The girth of such a
specimen at four feet from the ground would be about fifteen feet.
Larger individuals have been recorded, up to twenty-seven feet.
There are three kinds of Lime in general cultivation in this country,
but the differences between them are not great. They are the
Large-leaved (_Tilia platyphyllos_), the Small-leaved (_T. parvifolia_),
and the Intermediate or Common Lime (_T. vulgaris_). The last-named is
generally admitted to be an introduced kind, and it is the one most
commonly planted. Respecting the claims of the other two to rank as
natives, there has been some difference of opinion among authorities.
The Small-leaved Lime, which does not occur in woods north of
Cumberland, was regarded by Borrer as a true indigene, but H. C. Watson
considered its claims as open to doubt, though he had no such doubt of
the Large-leaved Lime, which is only growing really wild in the woods of
Herefordshire, Radnorshire, and the West Riding of Yorkshire.
All our Limes have similar straight tall stems, clad in smooth bark, and
with a similar habit of growth. They are trees that demand genial
climatic conditions for their proper development, and in consequence
they do not put forth their leaves until May. The period of their leafy
glory is comparatively short, for they are among the trees that lose
their leaves earliest in autumn, after having been for a few days
transmuted into gold. The leaf of the Lime is heart-shaped, with one of
the basal lobes larger than the other, and the edges cut into saw-like
teeth. There are slight differences in those of the three species, which
will be indicated below.
[Illustration: Lime.]
In its floral arrangements the Lime differs from the trees previously
mentioned in that it has distinct sepals and petals, an abundance of
honey, and strong, sweet fragrance as of Honeysuckle. Unlike them, it
does not trust to so rough and ready an agent of fertilization as the
wind, so that it waits until its boughs are well clothed with leaves
before putting forth its yellowish-white blossoms. These are in clusters
(_cymes_) of six or seven, the stalks of all arising from one very long
and stouter stalk, which is attached for half its length to a thin and
narrow bract. Individually regarded, the flowers will be found to
consist of five sepals, five petals, an oval ovary with a style ending
in a five-toothed stigma, and surrounded by a large number of stamens.
The stamens discharge their pollen before the stigma of that flower is
fitted to receive it, so that cross-fertilization is ensured by the
visits of the innumerable bees that visit the flowers for the abundant
nectar they contain, and which the bees convert into a first-rate
honey.
[Illustration: _Pl. 28._ Flowers of Lime.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 29._ Fruits of Lime.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 30._ Bole of Lime.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 31._ Lime--winter.]
The flowers are succeeded by globose little fruits, each about a quarter
of an inch across, yellow, and covered with pale down. In a good season
these will be found to contain one or two seeds, but too often in this
country the summers are too cool to ripen them. The Lime does not begin
to bear until about its thirty-fifth year. It flowers every year
thereafter, but the question of its seed-crop depends entirely upon the
weather.
For the purposes to which large timber is usually put, the light white
wood of the Lime is not highly esteemed, not being considered of
sufficient durability; yet it serves for many smaller uses, where its
lightness and fine grain are strong recommendations. It must not be
forgotten that the wonderful carvings of Grinling Gibbons were executed
in this wood. It is largely used by the makers of musical instruments;
and, as every one knows, it is from the inner bark of the Lime that
those useful bast mats, which are imported from Russia in such large
numbers, are made. Probably owing to its lightness, again, the wood was
used in old times for making bucklers. The question of its value as
timber is probably never taken into account when it is planted in this
country, where its ornamental appearance as an avenue or shade-tree is
its great recommendation. It is one of the long-lived trees, its full
life-period being certainly five centuries. Those in St. James's Park
are popularly supposed to have been planted, at the suggestion of John
Evelyn, somewhere about the year 1660. There is a fine Lime avenue in
Bushey Park, probably planted by Dutch William.
Deer and cattle are fond of the foliage and young shoots if they can get
at them. Numerous insects exhibit a like partiality; of these the
caterpillar of the large and handsome Lime Hawk-moth (_Smerinthus
tiliae_) is the most characteristic.
The differences between the three species may be briefly noted:--
SMALL-LEAVED LIME (_Tilia parvifolia_). Does not attain the large
proportions of the others. Leaves about two inches across, smooth; on
the lower surface the axils of the nerves are glaucous and downy, with
hairy patches between nerves. Fruit thin-shelled and brittle, downy, and
very faintly ribbed. The upper leaves show a tendency to lobing.
LARGE-LEAVED LIME (_Tilia platyphyllos_). Bark rougher. Twigs hairy.
Leaves larger (four inches) and rougher, downy beneath, axils of the
nerves woolly. Fruit of more oval shape, woody and strongly ribbed when
ripe.
COMMON LIME (_Tilia vulgaris_). Intermediate between the others. Leaves
larger than those of _T. parvifolia_, smaller than those of _T.
platyphyllos_; downy in axils beneath. Twigs smooth. Fruit woody, but
without ribs.
The name Lime was originally Linde, a form which, with the addition of
_n_, is in use to-day. Chaucer and other English writers spell it Line
and Lyne, and the transition from this form to that commonly used to-day
has been effected by changing the _n_ to _m_. Originally it meant
_pliant_, and had reference to the useful bast from which cordage and
other flexible things were made.
The Wych Elm (_Ulmus montana_).
Of the two species of Elms commonly grown in these islands this alone is
a native, though the Common or Small-leaved Elm (_Ulmus campestris_) was
introduced from the Continent by the Romans, so that it has had time to
get itself widely distributed over our country. Other names for the Wych
Elm are Mountain Elm, Scots Elm, and Witch Hazel--the last-named being
now more generally applied to an American plant, the _Hamamelis_. The
philologists appear to be uncertain as to the origin and meaning of
Wych, but it seems most probably a form of Witch. Just as a Hazel-rod
is used by water-finders, who declare that its movements indicate the
presence of hidden springs, so a wand of _Ulmus montana_ may have
furnished the Witch-finder with a Witch Hazel for the detection of
witches!
[Illustration: _Pl. 32._ Wych Elm--summer.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 33._ Fruits of Wych Elm.]
The names _montana_, _campestris_, and Mountain Elm must not be allowed
to mislead us as to the habits of the two species, for though the Wych
Elm is known to reach an altitude of 3300 feet in the Alps, here it
ascends only to 1300 feet (Yorks.), whilst _Ulmus campestris_, which
might be understood to be less a hill-climber, grows at an elevation of
1500 feet in Derbyshire. As a matter of fact, both species are much
fonder of valleys than of mountains.
The Wych Elm forms a trunk of large size, from 80 to 120 feet or more in
height, with a girth of 50 feet, and covered with rough bark that is
often corky. Its long slender branches spread widely with a downward
tendency, the downy forking twigs bearing their leaves in a straight row
along each side. The leaves are somewhat oval in general form, but the
two sides of the midrib are unequal in size and shape. Their edges are
doubly or trebly toothed, and the surfaces are rough and harsh to the
touch. The hairs that cover the strong ribs on the under surface serve
for the protection of the breathing pores from dust. On leaves of the
pendulous form of this tree, grown in the London parks and gardens,
these hairs will be found to be quite black with the soot particles
gathered from the air. Trees need carbon, but in this gross form they
are too often suffocated by it.
In March or April the brownish flowers are produced in bunches from the
sides of the branches. They are a quarter of an inch long, bell-shaped,
their edges cut into lobes, and finely fringed. The ovary, with its two
awl-shaped styles, is surrounded by four or five stamens with purple
anthers. They appear in March or April, before the leaf-buds have
opened, and are dependent on the wind for the transfer of pollen. The
fruit is an oblong _samara_, about an inch long. This consists of a
single seed in the centre, invested by a thin envelope, which is
extended all round as a light membranous wing, which gives it buoyancy
and enables it to float through the air to a little distance. These
seeds are not produced until about the thirtieth year of the tree's
life, and though they are ripened almost annually thereafter, good crops
are biennial or triennial only. It has often been stated that the Wych
Elm does not send up suckers, but it does, though not invariably; it
does so chiefly as the result of root-pruning or some other check to the
extension of the root-system.
[Illustration: Wych Elm.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 34._ Bole of Wych Elm.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 35._ Wych Elm--winter.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 36._ Common Elm--summer.]
[Illustration: _Pl. 37._ Bole of Common Elm.]
The Elm most frequently seen is the Small-leaved Elm (_Ulmus
campestris_), which is therefore entitled to its alternative name of
Common Elm. Constantly grown as a hedgerow tree, it meets us at every
turn, though it is much less plentiful in Scotland than in other parts
of the United Kingdom. It is in all respects very similar to the Wych
Elm, but its leaves are smaller--usually from two to three inches long,
the twigs often covered with a corky bark, and the seed, instead of
being in the centre of the samara, is much nearer to the notched end.
The leaves are proportionately narrower than those of _montana_, and it
will be found that the hairs which cover the midrib below possess in
minor degree the irritating qualities of the Nettle's stings. This is a
fact not generally known, but I became painfully aware of it a few years
ago when clearing away the suckers of an Elm that were encroaching too
much upon my garden border. Examination of these hairs shows that they
are constructed much on the same plan as those of the Nettle--a member
of the same Natural Order, by the way. The fact that these leaves are
browsed by cattle and deer may explain this development of the hairs,
which, whilst they may serve to keep off sheep, have not yet reached a
degree of acridity sufficient to protect them from the larger beasts.
Both flowers and samaras are about a third smaller than those of
_montana_; but seed is very seldom produced in this country, and the
tree seeks to reproduce itself by throwing up abundant suckers round the
base of the bole, and even from root-branches at a considerable distance
from the trunk. These, of course, if allowed to grow, would soon
surround the tree with copse.
_Campestris_ often attains a greater height with its straighter trunk
than _montana_, but its girth is not so great, seldom being more than
twenty feet. Its dark wood is harder and finer grained than that
produced by the native tree. Its favour as a hedgerow tree is probably
due to the fact that it gives shade which is not obnoxious to the growth
of grass. Both species are subject to a great amount of variation, and
in nurserymen's catalogues these forms have appropriate names, but they
are not regarded as of sufficient permanence to merit scientific
distinction. In point of age--Elms are known to exceed five hundred
years.
[Illustration: Common Elm.]
Among the insects that feed upon the Elm's foliage, the most noteworthy
is the caterpillar of the fine Large Tortoiseshell Butterfly (_Vanessa
polychloros_). I have already mentioned the relationship subsisting
between Elms and Nettles, and it is a point worth noting that nearly all
our native species of _Vanessa_ feed in the larval state upon the leaves
of the Nettle. In London parks and squares the Elms are much infested
by the caterpillars of the Vapourer-moth, whose wingless females may be
seen like short-legged spiders on the bark, whilst the male flutters in
an apparently aimless way on wings of rich brown with central white
spots.
[Illustration: _Pl. 38._ Common Elm--winter.]
In October the leaves, which have for some time assumed a very dull
dark-green tint, suddenly turn to orange, then fade to pale yellow, and
fall in showers.
The name Elm was derived from the Latin _Ulmus_, and appears to indicate
an instrument of punishment--probably from its rods having been used to
belabour slaves. Prior remarks that the word is "nearly identical in all
the Germanic and Scandinavian dialects, but does not find its root in
any of them. It plays through all the vowels ... but stands isolated as
a foreign word which they have adopted." This "playing through the
vowels" may be thus illustrated--Alm, Aelm, and Elm (Anglo-Saxon and
English); Ilme, Olm, and Ulme, in various German dialects.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Pl. 39._ Ash--summer.]
The Ash (_Fraxinus excelsior_).
So commanding, yet at the same time so light and graceful, does a
well-grown Ash appear, that Gilpin called it the "Venus of the Woods."
This may appear to some to be rather too close an approach to the "Lady
of the Woods" (Birch), but in our opinion it well expresses the
characteristics of the two. They are both exceedingly graceful, but the
beauty of the Birch is that of the nymph, whilst that of the Ash is the
combined grace and strength of the goddess. I have said "a well-grown"
Ash, a phrase by which the timberman would understand a tree that had
been hemmed in so closely by other trees that it has had no chance of
developing as a tree, but only as a straight stout stick of wood, from
eighty to one hundred feet long. _My_ well-grown Ash is in a meadow,
where both soil and atmosphere are moist and cool; where it has had
elbow-room to reach its long graceful arms upwards and outwards, and to
cover them with the plumy circlets of long leaves. It is there, or on
the outskirts of the wood, or in the hedgerow, that the Ash is able to
do credit to Gilpin's name for it.
[Illustration: Ash.]
Before the reign of iron and steel was quite so universal, Ash timber
was in demand for many uses where the metals have now supplanted it. It
was then far more widely grown as a hedgerow tree than is now the case.
Selby laments the neglect of this former custom, which kept up a supply
of tough and elastic timber, useful in all agricultural operations,
and added much to the beauty of the country. No doubt the noxious drip
and shade of the Ash have had much to do with this abandonment of it,
for few things can live beneath it--a condition helped by its numerous
fibrous roots, which quickly exhaust and drain the soil, and so starve
out other plants. Although it thus drains the surface soil, it is not
dependent upon these upper layers for food, for its much-branched roots
extend very deeply in the porous soils it prefers.
It must not be supposed from the foregoing remarks that the Ash is
confined to the lowlands. In Yorkshire it is found growing at an
elevation of 1350 feet; in Mid-Germany it grows as far up as 3500 feet,
and in the Alpine districts 500 feet higher still. It has a preference
for the northern and eastern sides of hills, where the atmosphere is
moist and cool, and the soil deep and porous, for it loves free and not
stagnant moisture for its roots.
The bark of both trunk and branches is pale grey, and some look to this
as the origin of the tree's English name. On examining the leafless
branches in early spring, two things strike the observer--the blackness
of the big opposite leaf-buds, and the stoutness of the twigs. This
latter fact is due to the great size of the leaves they have to support,
which implies a considerable strain in wind or rain. What are generally
regarded as the leaves of the Ash are only leaflets, though they are
equal in size to the leaves of most of our trees. The largest of the
leaflets are about three inches in length, and there are from four to
seven--mostly six--pairs, and an odd terminal one, to each leaf. They
are lance-shaped, with toothed edges. The leaves are late in appearing,
but, like Charles Lamb and his office-hours, they make up for it by an
early departure.
[Illustration: _Pl. 40._ Flowers of Ash.]