IFV 47 



light, sunshine, a fair share of rain, and such-like 

 influences that make for a plant's well-being. The 

 mistletoe is a good illustration of a parasitic plant, feeding 

 as it does on the apple or other tree that bears it, but the 

 ivy honestly draws its nourishment from mother Earth. 

 The so-called roots, for which crampons is a better name, 

 are the multitudinous little hands that grasp and take 

 possession. If the ivy be found on the ground it does 

 not develop these crampons, because it has no work for 

 them to do. 



This belief in the parasitic nature of the ivy, and the 

 morals that could be deduced from it, were a most valuable 

 asset in the storehouse of the earlier poets. We recall 

 how Shakespeare, greatest of all, puts into the mouth of 

 Adriana, in the Comedy of Errors, the words — 



If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, 

 Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss. 

 Who all, for want of pruning, with intrusion, 

 Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. 



It will be recalled, too, how Prospero, in the Tempest, 

 describing the wickedness of Sebastian, pictures his ingrati- 

 tude to his benefactor in the bitter words — 



He was 

 The ivy which had hid my princely trunk 

 And suck'd my verdure out on't. 



Ivy possesses great vitality, and we hear from time to 

 time of cases where ivy stems have been sawn through 

 and yet the plant appears to be none the worse for such 

 drastic treatment ; and it has been suggested that, though 

 the crampons are ordinarily but means of fixing the ivy 



