134 



THE FLOKAL WOULD AND GARDEN GUIDE. 



This passage points to one of the 

 emblematic uses of the ivy in modern 

 literature, and it also indicates how 

 accurate an observer of nature was the 

 great poet. The device of an ivy leaf 

 with the words, "I die where I am at- 

 tached," has often been used as the 

 symbol of a faithful friendship ; and in 

 the north of Europe ivy chaplets are 

 used as memento mori, its attachment to 

 ruins, and its evergreen character, ren- 

 dering it a suitable representative of 

 the Present clinging to the relics of the 

 Past. When the late Bishop of Nor- 

 wich died, Jenny Lind, who was his 

 personal friend, sent a ehaplet of ivy to 

 be placed on his tomb, as " her tears," 

 in accordance with a pretty custom of 

 her native land. 



The Ivy,Hedera, takes its name from 

 the Celtic hedra, a word in allusion to 

 its tight-clinging stems ; and in the 

 natural system it is classed in Aralia- 

 cece, or ivj^-worts, in which the aralias 

 of our gardens have a conspicious posi- 

 tion. There are half-a-dozen British 

 varieties of ivy, namely, the common 

 helix, the tree-like arborescent;, the 

 finger-leaved digitata, the silver-leaved 

 foliis variegata, the gold striped folds 

 aureis, and vulgaris, the common green. 

 In the diagram, the third in size, is a 

 leaf of the common helix, but it 

 varies much in the shape of its 

 leaves, and the many pretty varieties 

 we have are sports. The largest of the 

 outlines is the well-known Irish ivy, for 

 a full-grown leaf of which it would 

 be necessary to devote two whole pages. 

 When I took the shears to clip off a 

 few leaves for a sketch, I found plenty 

 just double the size of the one here 

 traced, and was compelled, on account 

 of the size of our pages, to content my- 

 self with a very common-place speci- 

 men. It is a decided Bull to call this 

 Irish, for it is a native of the Canary 

 Islands, introduced, probably, first to 

 Ireland, subsequently to Britain. 

 Among the hardy kinds there is only 

 one other worth special notice, and that 

 is H. taurica, introduced here in 1841, 

 but never generally cultivated. The 

 greenhouse evergreen and stove species 

 scarcely concern us at present; they 

 require consideration on their own 

 merits, apart altogether from the spe- 

 cies and varieties used in gardens. 



Now, "touching " common things," 

 let me commend to the artist the diver- 

 sity of elegant forms noticeable in ivy 

 leaves, and especially of the delicately- 

 veined, sharp-toothed little leaves that 

 beset the straight young stems of 

 British ivy, that dart upwards like 

 arrows on the boles of old elm and oak 

 trees, but more frequently on the elm 

 than any other tree, as subjects for the 

 exercise of the pencil. Then let me 

 call the artist's attention to a point 

 which the botanist knows all about, or 

 he is no botanist, that when the ivy is 

 left alone for three years, it forms 

 blooming stems, and from the point 

 where these break on the bowery poll 

 which ivy forms when untouched by 

 knife or shears, the leaves gradually 

 change from being divided into five 

 lobes, and become entire and neatly 

 ovate and shining, and it is this forming 

 of a head and production of numerous 

 umbel-bearing flower-stems with uncut 

 leaves, that ivy, left to itself, owes its 

 bold rounded outlines and massiveness 

 of character. Among all the beauties 

 of autumn, I know of none to beat a fine 

 sheet of ivy in full bloom ; though the 

 blossom is pale green and unattractive 

 in itself, when a vast breadth of it is 

 covered, the dark foliage seems dashed 

 all over with foam, and the hum of a 

 thousand bees, and its own sweet fra- 

 grance quite compensate for the 

 absence of specific colour. A vene- 

 rable old parish church seems, indeed, 

 a sanctuary, and its green graveyard 

 may be called God's acre, w T hen the 

 good wardens are tender with the ivy ; 

 but would you believe it, not many 

 years ago, an archdeacon sent a circu- 

 lar of inquiries to the churchwardens 

 within his deaconry, and among the 

 leading questions in it was this, "Is 

 there any ivy growing on the walls 

 of the church ?" the object being to see 

 if there were any need for a further issue 

 of orders to destroy it. 



This suggests a horticultural query 

 — Does ivy destroy the wall to which 

 it clings ? No ; it does not ; it neither 

 destroys it nor renders it damp, but is 

 an actual preservative, and, besides 

 that, it affords resting-places for birds, 

 and, in its berries, supplies the thrush 

 with a diet in which he revels all the 

 winter long. To that question of the 



