main branches will have attained a growth and vigour equal to what the original ones would have presented to us, had they been allowed to remain on the tree.

Ere the combined force of charcoal and saltpetre had enabled us to blow ourselves up instantaneously, we followed the slower process of destroying life by means of the bow made from the yew tree: and this, to men of moderately sanguinary habits, must, I think, have been sufficiently expeditious: for we learn, at the hunting-fray of Chevy Chase, that,

"The English archers bent their bows,
Their hearts were good and true;

At the first flight of arrows sent,

Full threescore Scots they slew."

The bow from the yew tree was in use by private sportsmen as well as by warriors. In the very old song of the Sow and the Tailor, the latter cries out,

Some people are of opinion, that the yew tree was planted close to the churches by way

of protection, in order that there might always be a good supply of bows in case of war. The Catholic church, which was founded to preach peace on earth to men of good will, never could have patronised botany for sanguinary purposes. No doubt whatever, the yew tree was planted near the church for the facility of obtaining sprigs and branches to be used during the processions. Religious processions were in high request amongst our pious ancestors. They were an admirable mode of imparting a knowledge of the sacred mysteries of religion to all ranks of people. Terrible indeed has been the loss to our nation by their suppression.

Selborne's immortal naturalist cautions us not to let our cattle feed upon the foliage of the yew; and he gives us an instance of its deadly effects. Hence, I have taken the precaution to fence my clumps of yew trees round with an impenetrable hedge of hollies. Sprigs newly taken from the growing yew tree are said not to be poisonous; but in the course of three or four days, a change takes place in them, and then their noxious quality prevails. But the ripe berries of the yew tree are certainly not deleterious, as I myself can prove by frequent

F

personal trial. Indeed, nothing is more common in this neighbourhood, when autumn has set in, than to see the village lads idling under yew trees, and partaking plentifully of the fruit, which they appositely call snottle-berries.

Ovid considered the appearance of the yew tree sufficiently lugubrious to give it a place on the hill-side which led down to the infernal regions," funesta nubila taxo." And we learn from Julius Cæsar, that it proved fatal to the human species; for King Cativolcus, after heartily cursing his ally Ambiorix, for having brought him into an irretrievable scrape, had recourse to the yew tree, in order to bid this wicked world adieu for ever:- “Taxo, cujus magna in Gallia, Germaniaque copia est, se exanimavit."

The Spaniards, in the days of Cervantes, applied sprigs of yew to mournful purposes, as we gather from the story of Chrysostomo. This unhappy swain fell into languor, and died for the love of the shepherdess Marcela; and his friend performed his obsequies with wreaths of yew and cypress; "Eran, qual de texo, y qual de Cypres." But, here in England, the yew sprig, far from being thought an emblem of

grief, is chosen to be the harbinger of merriment and joy. Scarcely has the sun's full stop at the Tropic of Capricorn announced to us the dawn of the shortest day, ere the housemaid begins to set her rooms in order; and the gardener is desired to prepare his sprigs of holly, box, and yew, as ornaments for every window, on the eve of the annual commemoration of that long promised day, when the eternal Son of God was born of the Blessed Virgin in a stable at Bethlehem for sinful man's redemption.

If the leaves of the yew tree were armed with sharp spikes like those of the holly, we should have a treasure of a tree for the protection of the feathered tribe during the stormy nights of winter. But the want of these repellent appendages renders the yew tree highly perilous to the birds which resort to its inviting foliage for sleep or shelter, as the cat, the stoat, the weasel, and the foumart can pervade its branches with the utmost impunity whilst the Hanoverian rat, so notorious for self and pelf, is ever prying amongst them, and fleecing their inmates with a perseverance scarcely to be imagined.

THE IVY.

We live to learn. I was not sufficiently aware of the value of ivy for the protection of the feathered race, until I had seen the pheasantpreserve of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, in the year 1817. It is called the Cascini, and it is a kind of Hyde Park for the inhabitants of Florence in their evening recreations.

At the grove of the Cascini, you see the ivy growing in all its lofty pride and beauty. As I gazed on its astonishing luxuriance, I could not help entertaining a high opinion of the person, be he alive or dead, through whose care and foresight such an effectual protection had been afforded to the wild birds of heaven, in the very midst of the " busy haunts of men." The trees in this ornamented grove are loaded with a profusion of ivy, from their lowest to their topmost branches; and although crowds of fashionable carriages were rolling along the road which surrounds this preserve, I saw our common pheasant roving through its walks,