The neighbourhood is peculiarly rich in trees. On the lawn behind Monzie Castle are three of five famous larches planted in the year 1738--the fourth one fell during the November gale of 1893. They rival those of the Duke of Athole at Dunkeld. There is a tradition that the Duke's gardener, on his way home with the seed, was hospitably entertained at Monzie, and planted them in remembrance of his visit. The gardener was sent annually to observe their growth and report to his master. "When this functionary returned and made his wonted report, that the larches at Monzie were leaving those of Dunkeld behind in the race, his Grace would jocularly allege that his servant had permitted General Campbell's good cheer to impair his powers of observation."[1] Altogether, the district is beautifully and bountifully wooded, and many a laird gathered to his fathers must have laid to heart some such advice as the laird of Dumbiedykes gave to his son--"Jock, when ye hae naething else tae dae, ye may be aye stickin' in a tree; it will be growin', Jock, when ye're sleepin'." The valley of the Almond runs parallel to the vale of Monzie. Leaving the manse, and passing the church and the school, the Keppoch Road joins the road to Glenalmond, and after a walk of fully two miles the traveller finds himself at the entrance to what is known as the Sma' Glen--a romantic pass, stretching along the sides of the Almond for a distance of fully two miles. Standing half-way up the glen on a summer's day, looking northwards, the scenery is magnificent. Here, from the mountain's brow rushes a foaming stream; there, a clump of trees dressed in the most luxuriant green; here, mountains towering bleak and wild; there, a few spots of verdure growing amid the rocks; behind, the swift, pellucid Almond water; before, hills stretching on and on till they are lost in the azure sky.