Ah! here is another surprise the witch hazel has to offer. These buttons, so precious to the tree, contain the seeds developed from the flowers that bloomed last year. It has taken a full year to ripen them. Each pod has two cells, with a shiny black seed prisoner in each. The frost gives the signal, and the pods fly open with a snap, freeing the seeds, and ejecting them with surprising force. Dry, cold weather will discharge the whole seed crop in a few days. They shoot in every direction, and to a distance sometimes of twenty feet from the foot of the tree. But warm, wet weather delays their game. The pods are close and glum. There is no spring in them till they are dry again.
It is a far cry from March to October; from furry tassels of blossoming aspens and willows to the witch hazel in its yellow blossoms bringing up the rear in the great annual procession of the flowers. In fact, the witch hazel practically bridges the chasm of winter, for at no time does the cold cause all the flowers to fall. Their yellow petals curl up like shavings; but they often stay till spring.
A witch in old days was a person who did or said things not conventional. Our witch hazel has defied the ancient laws of the calendar—a very dreadful thing! So it comes honestly by its name; and one is inclined to ignore the accepted etymology that the word "witch," or "wych," in Old English, means "weak," and refers to the sprawling habit of the tree. Surely the observer cannot miss seeing little weazen witch faces grinning at him from all possible angles of the tree, their yellow cap strings flying in the wind, as if in defiance of the rumour that the days of witchcraft are past.
The English "wych hazel" is an elm. In the mining regions it would be counted the height of folly to sink a shaft without first determining with a hazel wand where the rich veins of coal or metal are. No more would one think of digging a well until the same divining rod pointed to the hidden springs. Our American witch hazel is credited with all the occult powers of the Old World tree from which it gets its name. In hamlets and country neighbourhoods not too close to the currents of modern life we may still meet old fellows who can "water witch," and a goodly number of neighbours who believe in his powers.
Billy Thompson's well goes dry and he sends in haste for Old Andy. Promptly, but with no undignified haste, the old
man goes out into the woods that join his "clearin'." He chooses a forked twig whose Y stands north and south, for the rising and setting suns must have sent their rays through its prongs as it grew. Carefully the leaves are removed, as they drive to Billy's place, where the whole family and a neighbour or two await them. A solemnity settles on the company as the supple twig is grasped by its two forks, thumbs out, knuckles down, and the stem of the Y is thrust forward. Holding it as rigid as his trembling old hands are able,• Andy paces with dignity over the ground that Billy has chosen as a convenient site for the new pump. He shakes his head as the stubborn wand keeps its position. "There's no use diggin' thar." Billy is disappointed, but convinced.
Old Andy stumbles along and the wand points downward. It is most emphatic. Back he comes across the same spot, and down goes the wand again. He moves away—even to the other side of the barn—then returns and the sign is repeated over the exact spot indicated before. "D'ye see his wrist move?" asks a doubter, nudging his neighbour, and speaking under his breath. But it is not a time for levity. All eyes are on the seer who announces with proper dignity: "Thar's the place, Billy. The signs is plain. You'll git a good spring-fed well if you go deep enough." And nobody has the hardihood to dispute his word.
Hamamelis water, or extract of witch hazel, in a variety of brands, is for sale in every country and city drug store. There is widespread faith in its soothing and curative powers when rubbed on bruises and sprains, and applied to burns. Strangely enough, the Indians taught white folks to use it. But chemical analysis has failed to discover any medicinal properties in bark or leaf. Druggists will concede that the alcohol in these decoctions is the most effective agent. The patented preparations cost more than the ordinary witch hazel that the druggist makes up, and there is an impression that the higher-priced kinds are "stronger." They probably have a higher percentage of alcohol.
Below is given the "national formulary" which manufacturing druggists follow in the United States. It is published that anyone may know just how the extract is extracted, and what is added to the witch hazel.