THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN’S COMPANION, September 8 , 1857. 305 j 
condition, in order that in planting young ones they 
may stand a fair chance of arriving at such a venerable 
age or size as those we now look upon as models in 
their way, aud shall therefore begin with one of the 
most remarkable indigenous trees we have, the 
Yew. —This interesting tree is found in various situa¬ 
tions, but generally, when found in a wild state, is on 
some very dry hill side, or not unusually on a chalk 
cliff, where it stands frowning over everything around 
it, an object of unchanging green, sombre, yet grand 
in some cases from its size. Unfortunately in many such 
situations its beauty has not protected it from the ruth¬ 
less hand of utilitarianism, and picturesque old trees 
have been converted into firewood, or to objects of un¬ 
important interest. But it is consoling to learn that 
young trees are coming on in such places sown by 
natural means: they steadily grow on, struggling at 
times with more robust trees for an existence, and 
some perishing in the contest. Still many do get up to 
grace the neighbourhood their parents had done for 
ages before them; and it may be proper here to mention 
that, although nice healthy-looking plants of two or 
three feet high are plentiful enough in the natural woods 
and wastes of chalky or very dry, stony hills, they will 
not bear to be transplanted; at least, I never knew them 
succeed satisfactorily. The roots, unlike the Spruce 
and other Firs, extend in long lines, with but few 
branclilet fibres, and a tap root- also descends a con¬ 
siderable way. This secure mode of bracing the tree to 
its post enables it to brave the severest gales of winter 
with impunity, so that we rarely ever see a Yew tree 
overthrown until decay deprives it of its hold in one 
direction. Now, as it is useless to search for plants, 
except seedling ones of one year old, to plant in the 
garden or grounds of a well-kept place, recourse must 
be had to the nursery, where plants having acquired a 
sort of artificial condition may be removed almost at 
any season of the year, for no plant is more hardy than 
the Yew; and though it is found wild on dry, chalky, 
or rocky hills, it will grow, and even thrive well, on a 
situation almost diametrically opposite. Large healthy 
Yews are not at all rare on a cold, clayey soil, and even 
on moist soils I have seen some good specimens, but I 
do not think they are so long lived on such soils, and 
their growth is seldom good; but our churchyards, 
with, I believe, few exceptions, contain Yew trees of 
greater or less age, and in many instances these are of 
necessity planted on a cold, clayey soil; but the finest 
trees are by far found on dry situations. A few years 
ago I measured one in the churchyard at Ulcomb whose 
circumference was upwards of twenty-seven feet at four 
feet from the ground, and I believe the timber at that 
place to be nearly all sound. Its bole was short, and, 
somewhat strange to say, it was thicker where measured 
than it was lower down, a sort of barrel-shaped swell 
giving it an odd shape. It was, however, a very fine 
healthy tree, with a well-expanded top; the situation a 
dry hill side facing the south; soil a light-coloured 
mould, resting on a soft stone near the surface, with 
limestone beneath. A tree still more remarkable than 
the last is growing in Loose churchyard, the situation 
being near the bottom of a valley between two steep 
hills formed of Kentish ragstone. This tree is, however, 
merely a shell of its former greatness, but in dimension 
exceeds everything of its kind that I have heard of 
in England, the girth midway between the claws at 
bottom and the breakings of its branches being upwards 
of thirty-two feet; and though, as I have said before, it 
is hollow, and capable of holding I do not know how 
many people, there are none of the openings exceeding 
two feet, and being all united at top, and the bole pre¬ 
senting a symmetrical appearance, dispel the idea that 
the tree has opened to enlarge itself. Its top being 
healthy it is probable it may live for many generations 
yet, an emblem of its almost everlasting durability. 
Remnants of such trees as the last named are not un¬ 
common, but this one presents as healthy and large a 
top as most trees of middle age; and how many years 
may elapse ere its only remains be a few stunted 
branches protruding from some one of its sides, the 
other a mere wreck of dead wood, it is impossible to 
say. Suffice it to observe that there are many such 
venerable relics of the past in all parts of the country. 
I noticed one a short time ago in a churchyard in 
the northern part of Cheshire, the church being amongst 
the oldest of its kind we have. Some record exists 
of its dating back some years prior to the Norman 
Conquest, and I was told the Yew tree was as old as 
the church, which I truly believe. Now, as old trees in 
many situations other than in churchyards have doubt¬ 
less been planted by the hand of Nature, we may rest 
assured that the situation of such trees is the one best 
adapted for their well-being; therefore a dry, chalky hill 
side or top is the one for a Yew, and very often such 
trees receive no shelter from each other, nor from other 
trees or objects. Let us see how this case agrees with 
that of other kinds of trees. 
Oak. —This fit emblem of our national greatness is, 
however, not a solitary object like the last named, keep¬ 
ing watch and ward over the portals of the dead, or 
frowning in defiant majesty over some chasm or in¬ 
accessible precipice; on the contrary, the Oak is found 
growing in groups on the plains, or gentle undulations of 
districts not so dry as where the Yew flourishes. Oaks 
are found in various soils, but generally in the greatest 
perfection on soils not very dry. A loose stone-sliatter 
not over dry suits the tree best, but it is often found on 
soils of stiff loamy character. In travelling through a 
nobleman’s park in Cheshire a short time ago I measured 
several trees that were upwards of fifteen feet in cir¬ 
cumference about five feet from the ground, and they 
seemed to lose very little of their thickness for thirty or 
forty feet upwards. These were growing on a black, 
sandy soil, not wet to the surface certainly, but having a 
considerable quantity within eighteen inches of it. These 
trees had, undoubtedly, been planted where they were 
growing, and carefully attended to in their young days, 
as I never saw Oaks with such fine clear stems else¬ 
where; but they had reached the apex of their greatness 
as useful timber trees, and some few of them showed 
signs of decay. There were groups of Beech and Elm 
near them, but much inferior in point of size; in fact, 
though I have seen plenty of individual trees larger, I 
do not remember to have seen a quantity of such fine 
trees at one place before, and, as I say, on a situation 
whose subsoil seemed charged with water, the upper 
stratum being a black, sandy soil, likely enough to grow 
Rhododendrons well. Woods of natural Oak are com¬ 
mon enough, and some present specimens as stunted as 
it is possible to conceive. This, no doubt, arises from 
the fact of the best lands having been brought into 
cultivation long ago, one of the best criteria of good 
land being the quality of timber it bears. Doubtless 
our forefathers, like our Transatlantic brethren, were 
alike guided by that. It is, therefore, only prudent to 
plant Oak for profit on such soils as it thrives well upon, 
the smoke of a town and the salt spray of the ocean 
being alike hurtful to it; but it will often thrive on a 
dry, rocky soil, and on such places its timber is more 
tough, and a less quantity of sap or white wood is formed. 
Oak timber is, perhaps, the most durable of any kind 
we have when exposed to the trying changes of wet and 
dry. Almost any kind will keep when immersed con¬ 
tinuously in water, and some will last a long time if 
kept dry, but few will endure both alternately. One 
point here it is proper to observe—that the Oak bears 
pruning, in the general sense in which it is understood, 
worse than most trees. Large limbs ought never to be 
