

THE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PLANT. 



perhaps the Dean had such in view when he laid stress on the conservative 

 principles of his favourite evergreen. In proof of his statements, he refers to 

 ruins of castles and abbeys ; " for while in those parts of the structure that have 

 not had the advantage of this protection all has gone to utter decay, where the ivy 

 has thrown its preserving mantle everything is comparatively perfect and fresh, 

 and oftentimes the very angles of old sculptured stones are found to be almost 

 as sharp and entire as when they first came from the mason's yard " ! This is 

 fortunate ; for what should we do without ivy in the regions of the picturesque ? 

 How it marries the youth and freshness of the world to things old and crumbling 

 to dust ; how it brings the past and the present into complete unity, and shows 

 us how " on the faltering footsteps of decay youth presses"; and in its riotous 

 luxuriance vindicates the triumphs of nature over the art of man. And when it 

 reaches the topmost tower of the ancient castle or the hallowed shrine, and throws 

 out its huge bosses of shining leaves and flowers like a canopy to the summit, 

 " the fowls of the air lodge in the branches " of it, and a thousand happy songsters 

 sing the merry song of the " Ivy green." 



In the case of a dwelling-house, for which our plant is one of the noblest 

 adornments, the screening off of rain is not the only benefit conferred, for 

 walls exposed to the north and east winds are warmer when clothed than they 

 would be naked, and the bonny inhabitant without increases the comfort of the 

 inhabitants within. 



The next question concerns the welfare of the trees to which it attaches itself. 

 Does it injure them ? Without a doubt it does. The clasping stems check the 

 circulation of the sap in the rind of the tree ; the ample leafage, into which the 

 climber develops as it ascends, robs its supporter of light and air, and at last a 

 destructive warfare ensues, in which the '* usurping ivy " invariably becomes the 

 conqueror, and brings its stalwart friend with dishonour to the ground. Shall we 

 say " dishonour " of a mighty oak or elm that has succumbed at a moment when 

 it has acquired a magnificent vesture of evergreen herbage of the richest colour, in 

 which the honey-bees sing aloud on bright October days, and the painter passing 

 by is arrested by the majesty of its outlines and the depth of its shadows, and 

 must needs make a sketch of the picturesque object ere he can pursue his way ? 

 It seems that the word is appropriate, for it is a case of stifling, and there can at 

 least be no honour in yielding to an embrace that tends to ruin from the first gentle 

 pressure of the beautiful destroyer. 



Bishop Mant has summed up many of the characteristics of the plant, this 

 one more especially, in a passage which it will be appropriate to reproduce : 



