122 The Holly. 



and there too often fall a prey to the gun of the designing 

 fowler. 



In these days of phantom schemes and national extravagance^ 

 when work is scarce and penury fast increasing, the holly tree 

 is doomed to suffer from the lawless pilferer's hand. When 

 least expected, you find it arrested in its growth. Its smaller 

 branches by degrees lose their vitality, and, by the end of the 

 following year, one half of the tree appears as though it had 

 received a blast from the passing thunder-storm. This declining 

 aspect of the holly has been occasioned by the hand of sordid 

 mischief. It is well known that birdlime is produced from its 

 bark. In the spring of the year, at earliest dawn of day, our 

 finest holly trees in this neighbourhood are stripped of large 

 pieces of their bark by strolling vagabonds, who sell it to the 

 nearest druggist. So common has this act of depredation been 

 in this vicinity, that I should be at a loss to find a single holly 

 tree, in any hedge outside of the park wall, that has escaped the 

 knife of these unthinking spoilers. 



Some six or seven years ago, there stood in the ornamented 

 grounds of my baronet neighbour a variegated holly of mag- 

 nificent growth, and it bore abundant crops of berries ; a cir- 

 cumstance not very frequent in hollies of this kind. Many a 

 half hour have I stood to admire this fine production of nature ; 

 for it was unparalleled, in this part of Yorkshire, in beauty, 

 size, and vigour. But, at last, it was doomed to perish by a 

 plundering and an unknown hand : one morning in spring I 

 found the whole of its bark stripped off the bole, for full 2 ft. 

 in length. Notwithstanding this disaster, the berries became 

 ripe in due time ; whilst its leaves apparently retained their 

 wonted verdure upon the greater branches. Even the year 

 following it was alive, and put forth new leaves and blossoms ; 

 but the leaves were of a stinted growth, and the berries did 

 not attain their usual size. During the course of the third 

 year from the day of its misfortune, the whole of the foliage 

 fell to the ground ; and then the tree itself became, like our 

 giant debt, a dead unsightly weight upon the land. 



Walton Hall, Jan. 19. 1843. 



Memorandum. — The stormcock sang SAvfietly here every day 

 throughout the whole of December, 1842, a circumstance never 

 known before in my time. — C. W. 



Feb. 13. — The late hurricane has made sad havock amongst 

 my trees. The ring-doves cooed, this year, a full fortnight before 

 their time. Still, the fine weather has not induced the chaffinch 

 to sing a day sooner than his wonted period. The blackbirds 

 had begun to arrange things for their nuptials, but old Boreas 

 appeared last week and peremptorily forbade the banns. — C. W. 



