222, TAXODINEA 
not the real leaves of the plant, but are a sort of 
herbaceous branchlet, of a “‘ neither fish, nor flesh, 
nor good red herring ” nature, neither true leaf nor 
branchlet, but a mixture of both called Cladodes or 
Phylloids by botanists. The real article, the true 
leaves—or, may we say, the apologies for leaves ?— 
are. minute-looking brown scales, growing appressed 
and decurrent to the stem, in the same way as they 
grow on the Cypress, and ending in an obtuse point. 
Altogether the whole story points to a great come- 
down in the glorious career of leaves in general. 
Their familiar green glories, their whole being, their 
very purity of descent, in the case of this tree, seem 
to have been merged in what appears to most. as 
lifeless likenesses of their former selves, which 
botanists, as we have said, mysteriously call Cladodes, 
or Phylloids, and which, loosely interpreted from dead 
language origin, seems to imply a branchlet or leaf, 
with a screw loose somewhere in its composition. 
In its family history this tree seems as forlorn of near 
relations as any waif or stray in a foundling hospital ; 
but, as sometimes even the most desolate of derelicts 
may light upon a haven, so has our friend the Sciado- 
pitys found his city of refuge. It has formally been 
received into the rather menagerie, come-one-come-all 
household of the Taxodinex, and been adopted by 
them as one of their number. 
Once in the day of its early introduction to western 
civilization, we read that it carried on and made 
overtures of alliance with the members of the Yew 
family, but that from that prim household it was 
promptly ejected. Perhaps some day it may be as 
summarily dismissed from its present asylum, as was 
the Gingko from the Salisburinez, and given a family 
name of itsown. Tothe more uninitiated, it certainly 
seems deserving of a place in an isolation hospital. 
If any plant in the world was entitled to claim 
