Holly. 
229 
as may be readily imagined, and as poor Evelyn pathetically 
observes, were ruined. 
It is stated that in some parts of the country there is a sin¬ 
gular custom of beating the feet, when afflicted with chilblains, 
with a branch of holly, from some lingering superstitious idea 
of its curative powers. It is to be hoped that the upper or 
thornless portion of the tree is used, otherwise, as our au¬ 
thority naively observes, the castigation is little likely to pro¬ 
duce any other effect than that of irritating a part already too 
much inflamed and susceptiole. 
Apart from its beauty, and the pleasurable feelings it en¬ 
genders by decking the wintry prospect with its lively-hued 
foliage and brilliant scarlet berries, the holly has other asso¬ 
ciations which render it, in England at least, the most beloved 
of all plants. Neither the luxuriant rose or the modest violet 
produces such tender feelings in the Briton’s heart. How. 
many happy memories, how many gentle feelings, will the 
sight of a sprig of this beloved plant excite ! What an ever- 
susceptible chord of human sympathy will a vision of this 
bright holly cause to vibrate, even in hearts long silent to such 
music! Long, long may Christmas, crowned with this em¬ 
blem of its vitality, knit in bonds of loving brotherhood man 
to fellow-man ! and long let us behold, with Gay, 
“ Christmas, the joyous period of the year ! 
Now with bright holly all the temples strow, 
With laurel green and sacred mistletoe.” 
In “Poor Robin’s Almanack” for 1695, the custom of de¬ 
corating dwellings with evergreens is quaintly introduced : 
“ With holly and ivy, 
So green and so gay, 
We deck up our houses 
As fresh as the day ; 
“With bays and rosemary, 
And laurel complete; 
And every one now 
Is a king in conceit. ” 
But there is an English poet to whom we may always turn 
for a Christmas wreath, a poet who is never a-weary of sing¬ 
ing the joys—real and ideal—of that transitory epoch in the 
tedious years—those bright oases, in what to so many are 
deserts of time, when it does indeed appear as if “ peace and 
goodwill towards all men ” is the general feeling in Christian 
nations. And that poet is—need it be said ?—Eliza Cook. 
Hark how she carols of the Christmas holly: 
