CHAPTER XII. 



THE HOLLY-BUSH, 



How cheerless an aspect would our gardens wear, 

 in this dreary month of December, had not some 

 plants been indued with hardihood to retain their 

 leaves, when the greater proportion was stripped 

 bare by chiUing frosts and blighting winds. It is 

 a point of wisdom, plentifully to intersperse our 

 evergreens among the brighter, but more transitory 

 children of summer ; and new that the dead leaves 

 are finally swept off, and my garden looks once 

 more perfectly tidy, I can appreciate the taste that, 

 in first laying it out — long before I had ever seen 

 it — allotted no small space to plants that would 

 defy the season's severity. Of grass there is 

 abundance ; but that being easily buried under a 

 light fall of snow, I will not glory in it. There is 

 a full proportion of classic laurel, the slender Alex- 

 andrine, the towering Portuguese, and our more 

 common species, distinguished by the glossy polish 

 of its leaves. The fir, the cypress, and the yew, 

 present their varied, yet not dissimilar foliage : and, 



