C70 CLIMBING STEMS. 



I am thinking here especially of the word " liane". When tliis beautiful word 

 is sounded a whole series of splendid pictures stand out in strong relief from the 

 twilight of youthful recollections. I see a dense leafy canopy, lit by a stray sun- 

 beam here and there, arching over the gigantic stems of the primeval forest^ — stems 

 which rise up like the columns of a spacious hall. On the forest floor the scanty 

 green of shade-loving ferns covers the remains of fallen trees. Further on a 

 confused brown mass of tangled roots renders progress over the still dark ground 

 almost impossible. In contrast to these gloomy depths how brilliant is the picture 

 in the glades and on the margin of the primeval forest! Plant forms in indescribable 

 confusion piled up into the thickest of hedges rise higher and higher to the very 

 crowns of the giant-trees, so that it is impossible to obtain even a glimpse into the 

 pillared hall of the interior of the forest. This is the true and proper home of the 

 liane. Everything climbs, winds, and twines with everything else, and the eye in 

 vain attempts to ascertain which stems, which foliage, which flowers and fruits, 

 belong to which. Here the lianes weave and work green draperies and carpets in 

 front of the stems of the forest border, there they appear as swaying garlands, or 

 hanging down as ample curtains from the branches of the trees. In other places 

 they stretch in luxuriant festoons from bough to bough and from tree to tree, 

 forming suspension bridges, even actual arcades with pointed and rounded arches. 

 Isolated tree-trunks are transformed into emerald pillars by the covering of woven 

 lianes, or more frequently become the centres of green pyramids over the summit 

 of which the crown spreads out in verdant plumes. Where the lianes have grown 

 old with the trees on whicii they cling, and the older portions of their stems have 

 been long stripped of foliage, they resemble ropes stretched between the ground 

 and the tree-summits, and often assume peculiar and characteristic forms. Some- 

 times drawn out tightly, sometimes limp and swaying, they rise up from the under- 

 growth of the forest ground, and become entangled and lost far above among the 

 boughs. Many are twisted like the strands of a cable, others are wound like a 

 corkscrew; and others again are flattened like ribbons, hollowed in pits, or shaped 

 into elegant steps — the celebrated monkey-ladders. 



The green garlands, bowers, and festoons of lianes are adorned with the gayest 

 flowers. Here a truss glows with flame-like brilliancy, there a large blue raceme 

 sways in the sunshine, and here again is a dusky curtain studded with hundreds of 

 bright star-like passion-flowers. And where flowers flaunt themselves and fruits 

 ripen, guests are not wanting. The gay assemblage of butterflies and the joyous 

 songsters of the wood regard the forest border interwoven with lianes as their 

 favourite rendezvous. 



From what has been hitherto said about lianes, one might think that this par- 

 ticular plant formation belonged only to the tropics. This would, however, be 

 incorrect. In the neighbourhood of the Canadian lakes, and in the districts of the 

 large central European rivers, the Danube and the Rhine, various species of Clematis, 

 wild vines, climbing roses, honeysuckle, bramble, many Menispermacese, &c., climb 

 up to the summits of the trees; and even the woods of our lower Alps contain one 



