taclies itself: no architectural ornament, however clas¬ 
sical, no tracery, however light and elegant, can vie in 
graceful effect with this “ wild tapestry.” But not only 
is the eye indebted to it ; the imagination also shares 
in the obligation for the touching imagery it supplies. 
Springing wherever there is ruin and decay, it decks 
indiscriminately " the loftiest height” and “ the humblest 
grave: ” and with such exquisite grace, that we doubt 
whether Adam, to whom his fair consort (according to 
the poet) assigned the task of directing “ the clasping 
ivy where to climb,” could have twined it more taste¬ 
fully. 
Besides decorating the ruined remains of feudal 
and monastic splendour, there is not a more beautiful 
or characteristic feature of forest scenery than this trail¬ 
ing plant. Every where it may be seen, covering the 
ground with its natural mosaic, and climbing the tallest 
trees, especially such as are dead or dying (for which it 
has a decided preference), round which it throws its 
verdant garlands, as if to hide the traces of decay. 
Once arrived at their summit, where further support is 
denied, it is necessitated to assume more independence 
of character, and it then makes an effort to sustain itself; 
to effect which its slight flexible stems become short and 
woody. ' In this position, its leaf also undergoes a 
