THE ARMED PLANT 317 



ment because there is little or nothing besides it 

 to take. It was " Hobson's choice," but a very 

 good choice none the less. The beauty of the 

 holly is no doubt, in part, that of the rivalless state. 

 In the summer woods it is not a particularly 

 arresting tree. It is dark and stiff, with neither 

 the majesty of the oak nor the grace and poise 

 and colour of ash and birch. But against a ground 

 of snow, flecked with the sere stalks of dead grass 

 and the heads of dry umbels, it stands with a 

 vigour of colour which holds and delights even the 

 unobservant eye. 



The holly, as everybody knows, is an armed 

 plant, and certain peculiarities of its armour add 

 not a little to the interest it holds for the student 

 of Nature. If a well -grown specimen of the native 

 British species, and one which has never been 

 mutilated, is examined, it will soon be noticed 

 that the typical arming 1 of the foliage is not equally 

 developed all over. In fact, it is only on those 

 parts of the tree which come within three or four 

 feet of the ground that the leaves are abundantly 

 supplied with rigid spines. A little higher up 

 the spiny quality falls away, and long before the 

 top of the tree is reached the leaves will be 

 found to be without anything of the nature of a 

 prickle. They are oval in shape, and almost entire 

 in the margins. From this it is no far-fetched 

 inference that the holly is armed for a purpose, 

 and that it troubles itself to produce defences 

 only where they are needed. In short, it is armed 

 against browsing animals, and does without arms 

 at a height beyond the ordinary reach of grazers. 



