AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 
261 
expansion of the catkins of the sallow, and others of the 
willow tribe, whence the bee extracts its first food, and 
the late blooming of the Ivy, are indispensable provisions 
for the existence of many of the insect race.” 
Now, only recollect how often you have seen the Ivy 
in October, and the bloom of the sallow in April, without 
ever asking yourself why the one flowered so late, and the 
other so early. This is another example of the want of 
attention paid to things with which people have always been 
accustomed. Were a tulip to blow in the open air in No- 
vember, ora white lily in April, the whole country round 
would flock to the wonderful sight; but the thousand ex- 
amples of Divine wisdom and arrangement that are daily 
passing before our eyes are neglected or despised. 
Let us inquire, whether the tendency of Ivy to climb 
is a wise provision. If one great use of the plant in the 
economy of nature be the protection of animals, would the 
purpose not have been equally answered by an evergreen 
tree springing at once from the ground, and bearing 
branches like other trees? No; because the shelter afford- 
ed by Ivy, growing as it does around trunks, and on walls 
and rocks, is much more perfect and secure than could be 
attained, perhaps, in any other way. But a question arises: 
Does it injure those trees and walls to which it is at- 
tached? This I cannot answer from my own observation; 
but a very intelligent and observing friend has informed 
me, that he is in the practice of encouraging the growth of 
Ivy on his trees, and that he has no fear of its injuring 
them. This, however, is not proof sufficient. That it is 
not injurious to walls, I have had repeated assurance from 
persons who spoke from their own practical experience. 
When sufficiently old, so as to cover a wall, it protects it 
both from sun and rain; and do we not every where see, 
that the part of a ruin best preserved, is that which the Ivy 
covers? It may serve, too, as a substitute for a part which 
time has nearly removed, as was remarked to me by the 
friend above alluded to. “ Had it not been for the Ivy,” 
said he, “that summer house,” (directing my attention 
to a little square building, of which scarcely a stone could 
be seen through its verdant envelope,) “would many 
years ago have been roofless and dilapidated; the Ivy has 
saved it from destruction.” 
Were the sight not so familiar, we should find some diffi- 
culty in conceiving how a plant of such large dimensions 
could climb up and adhere to a steep wall or rock. It does 
so by sending out a number of claws or root-like projec- 
tions, which insinuate themselves into the pores of the 
body it ascends; and by them it is kept fixed. It appears 
that these claws keep their hold by swelling, so as com- 
pletely to fill the pores; though some have thought that 
atmospheric pressure was the chief agent of adhesion. 
U u u 
Does the Ivy, you may ask, shoot out these claws at ran- 
dom? Not when it is of material consequence that they 
should proceed from one side only; and hence in the 
young Ivy we find that they shoot only from the side 
that is applied to the tree or wall. If you examine a 
young Ivy branch climbing up the smooth bark of a beech, 
you will find that its claws go out in great numbers from 
each side, and spread horizontally, and in tearing it off 
you will bring portions of the epidermis, or outer layer of 
the bark adhering to them. It is evident, that on a smooth 
bark this direction must be the most effectual in fixing them 
to the part, but if the latter be rough and chinky, then you 
will observe that the claws in general run perpendicularly 
into the fissures, and do not spread out sideways, which 
in this case would not be so effectual. When the Ivy is 
old enough to have a trunk, then the claws shoot out from 
the latter, and its larger branches on all sides, so as to ren- 
der it rough and as if clothed in bristles; but we never see 
this in the young state. 
Through the medium of these claws the Ivy ascends to a 
great height; it will mount the highest castle or tower, and 
wave triumphant on its summit; and yet, though it climbs 
the trunks of very high trees, we do not find that it ascends 
farupon the branches. If it did so it would injure the tree 
very materially, or destroy it, by chokingits leaves. Have 
you ever remarked how the shape of the Ivy-leaf varies 
according to its situation? It differs greatly according to 
circumstances, and I apprehend that the variations are 
connected with a very curious and important part of the 
economy of the plant. The leaf of the young Ivy is pen- 
tangular, or five angled, and while the plant is climbing, it 
is almost invariably of this form. But if a branch project 
from the stem, and hang out free from the tree or wall, you 
willfind thattheleavesofsuch branch are ovate or lanceolate, 
and also, that on the branch itself there is no appearance 
of claws. 
When an Ivy trunk has got fair possession of a wall, its 
branches diverge from it somewhat in manner of the spokes 
of a fan, and when they have reached the top of the wall 
they creep along it laterally, forming innumerable twist- 
ings and overlappings by which the whole are bound to- 
gether in the strongest manner, and the branches which 
rise up and bear the flowers and fruit, are, in general, 
rather lateral ramifications than the continuations of the 
stem. They do not overtop the wall more than two or 
three feet, for the economy of the plant seems to be alter- 
ed whenever it has got on so far as to stand no longer in 
need of its claws. Its whole powers then seem to bear 
on the ultimate object, the production of seeds, and when 
it is arrived at the top of the wall a higher elevation is un- 
necessary. It is the same circumstance, 1 believe, that 
