60 THE HABIT OP HOLLIES 



has not destroyed the indigenous hollies. When I read 

 the above-quoted passage on this fine Sunday morning 

 I strolled out along the banks of Tay in that noble 

 woodland which is continuous from Dunkeld to Murthly. 

 Here there are many fine hollies, some on the river banks 

 and cliffs, others on level ground, planted by no hand of 

 man. There was not one of these which did not confirm 

 my observations first made many years ago, and hardly 

 one which did not bear evidence of special growth — not 

 merely as a reaction against pruning or cropping, but as a 

 precaution against any such contingency — so regular and 

 deliberate as to suggest that these trees are something 

 more than unconscious automata. 



Many of these hollies are thirty feet high, with foliage 

 down to the ground. They carry spinous leaves up to a 

 height of three or four feet; above that level all the 

 foliage is absolutely smooth and spineless. One tree rose 

 from the ground in two bare stems, and the lower branches 

 did not reach below the browsing level. But from between 

 the two old stems rose a young shoot about four feet 

 long, clothed throughout its entire length with intensely 

 prickly leaves. This tree was growing in an enclosed 

 wood where cattle could not come ; still, roedeer might be 

 about, and the holly armed its young growth at the low 

 level, although the leaders of the old stems, not less 

 vigorous in growth, bore leaves as smooth as a camellia's. 

 I noted one particularly suggestive tree, an unhealthy 

 one. The growth had died back along most of the 

 branches, which stood out bare and dry ; but a recupera- 

 tive effort was in progress; fresh and luxuriant growth 

 was bursting along nearly the whole height of the stem, 

 and the foliage of this was vigorously prickly up to about 



