[G] Corylus. Barren catkin long, pendulous, cylindrical. Scales 3-lobed, middle lobe covering the 2 lateral lobes. Stamens 8. Anther 1-celled. Perianth none. Fertile flowers, several surrounded by a scaly involucre. Styles 2. Nut 1-seeded, inclosed in the enlarged coriaceous laciniated involucre.
The common Hazel, C. avellana, is a native of all the temperate climates of Europe and Asia, and grows wild in almost every part of Britain, from Cornwall to Caithness. Although never arriving at the bulk of a timber-tree, it yet claims our notice, among the natives of the forest, on various accounts. Its flowers are among the first to make their appearance, which is generally so early as the end of January, and in a month's time they are in full bloom; these are small, and of a beautiful red colour. Its fruit-bearing buds make a splendid show in March, when they burst and disclose the bright crimson of their shafts.
The common Hazel is known at once by its bushy habit; by its roundish-cordate taper-pointed, deeply serrated, light-green, downy leaves; by its rough light-coloured bark; and by its broad leafy husks, much lacerated and spreading at the point. The nuts are a very agreeable fruit, abounding in a mild oil, which is expressed and used by artists for mixing with their colours. We must, however, caution persons against eating too freely of this fruit, as it is difficult of digestion, and often proves hurtful when eaten in large quantities. They are ripe about harvest, and we ourselves have frequently enjoyed the pleasures of a nutting party, and can fully enter into the spirit of the sketch in Autumn, by our admired bard, Thomson:
Ye swains, now hasten to the Hazel bank,
Where, down yon dale, the wildly-winding brook
Falls hoarse from steep to steep. In close array,
Fit for the thickets and the tangling shrub,
Ye virgins come. For you their latest song
The woodlands raise; the clustering nuts for you
The lover finds amid the secret shade;
And, where they burnish on the topmost bough,
With active vigour crushes down the tree,
Or shakes them ripe from the resigning husk.
Leaves, Catkins, and Nuts of C. avellana.
We must also give here a description of the pleasures of nutting, from our favourite poet—the poet of nature—Wordsworth:
—It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days which cannot die;
When in the eagerness of boyish hope,
I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth
With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung,
A nutting-crook in hand, and turned my steps
Toward the distant woods. * * *
* * * * Among the woods
And o'er the pathless rocks I forced my way,
Until at length I came to one dear nook
Unvisited, where not a broken bough
Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign
Of devastation! but the Hazels rose
Tall and erect, with milk-white clusters hung,
A virgin scene! A little while I stood,
Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in; and with wise restraint,
Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed
The banquet,—or beneath the trees I sate
Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * Then up I rose,
And dragged on earth each branch and bough with crash
And merciless ravage, and the shady nook
Of Hazels, and the green and massy bower
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up
Their quiet being; and unless I now
Confound my present feelings with the past,
Even then, when from the bower I turned away
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees, and the intruding sky.