RHODODENDRACEÆ.

ITEA.

ITEA VIRGINICA.

PENTANDRIA MONOGYNIA.

Itea is derived from the Greek, and is so named from the swiftness of its growth.

THE Virginian Itea is a shrub six or seven feet high at its full growth, sending out many branches from the bottom of the stem to the top: the leaves are alternate, slightly notched at their edges, light green, and veined. At the extremity of the new shoots are produced five erect spikes of white flowers, three or four inches long, which blow in the month of July. When this shrub is in vigour, it is entirely covered with blossoms in the flowering time, and is exceedingly handsome. It is a native of North America, and was first cultivated in England by Archibald Duke of Argyle, in 1744.

CAPRIFOLIEÆ.

IVY BUSH.

HEDERA HELIX.

PENTANDRIA MONOGYNIA.

French, lierre; Italian, ellera.

THE Common Ivy is a well known plant, unjustly considered as parasitical, the stem of which will support itself by an abundance of fibres, or holdfasts against trees or walls; or, if no support be near, will creep along the ground, the stalks throwing out roots as they run; so that it is very difficult to eradicate it. While they trail upon the ground, or cling to any support, the stalks are slender and flexible, but when they have reached the top of that by which they rise, they become strong, and form large bushy heads: thus do they clothe and crown many a leafless stump with a beautiful and luxuriant verdure. The leaves of these bushy heads are larger, more of an oval shape than the lower leaves, and are not, like them, divided into lobes; this difference made some old botanists mistake them for different species. While the stalks creep, the Ivy never produces any blossom, and in this state it is called Barren or Creeping Ivy; but when they surmount the support by which they have grown, they produce flowers at the end of every shoot; these are of a yellowish or greenish white, growing in umbels or clusters, and are succeeded by berries, which become black before they are ripe. At first the

berry is round and succulent, with a purple juice; but afterwards it becomes coriaceous, dry, and obscurely quinquangular, being divided into five cells. In this state it is called Climbing, or Berried Ivy. The trunk of an old Ivy is covered with an ash-coloured bark; that of the young branches is of a green or purple colour. The leaves are alternate, evergreen, glossy, smooth; while the plant creeps three, or five-lobed; but when it quits its support, ovate, or egg-shaped. Linnæus describes them as first spear-shaped, then five-lobed, afterwards three-lobed, and lastly ovate; in this latter state it is called Poet's Ivy, Hedera poetica. The leaves, particularly on the younger branches, are often streaked with veins of white, and sometimes tinctured with red.

The Ivy is free-born in every country of Europe, though in some it is not common: Linnæus says it is rare in Sweden. Kalm says that he saw Ivy but once in North America, that was against a stone building, and apparently had been brought from Europe, and planted there. The Americans have an Ivy of their own, which has been brought to this country; but it is a deciduous plant, and bears no comparison with the common Ivy of Europe. Thunberg observed it in Japan, and remarked that the leaves were not lobed.

With us, the Ivy begins to blossom in September, and being so late, affords food to bees, when there is little to be found abroad. The berries increase in size during the winter, and ripen about April, when they are eaten by wild pigeons, blackbirds, thrushes, &c. Blackbirds and some others build their nests in the stump.

Among the many strange fancies dreamed of old with regard to trees, it has been said, that five Ivy berries

beaten small, and made hot with some rose-water, in the rind of a pomegranate, being dropt into the ear, on the contrary side, will cure an aching tooth.

The wood is soft and porous, so as to transmit liquids, if turned of a sufficient degree of thinness; the roots are used by leather-cutters to whet their knives upon. "Of the roots of Ivy," says Evelyn, "which shrub may, with small industry, be made a beautiful standard, are made curiously polished and flecked cups and boxes, and even tables of great value."

Homer describes his heroes as drinking out of a cup made of Ivy-wood.

The beechen cup of Alcimedon had a lid of Ivy, carved with grapes:

"The lids are ivy; grapes in clusters lurk

Beneath the carving of the curious work."

DRYDEN'S Virgil, pastoral iii.

Sheep are fond of Ivy, and in severe weather it is a warm and wholesome food for them; therefore the shepherds in the winter cut down branches for their flocks to browse on. Cato directs that cattle should be fed with it, in scarcity of hay. The ancients held Ivy in great esteem; it was consecrated to Bacchus, who is represented as crowned with it; and was often twined with the laurel in the poet's wreath. When Bacchus was seized by the pirates, his presence was made manifest by many wondrous changes that took place in different parts of the vessel :

"For first, a fountain of sweet smelling wine

Came gushing o'er the deck with sprightly shine,
And odours, not of earth, their senses took.

The pallid wonder spread from look to look;

And then a vine-tree overran the sail,

Its green arms tossing to the pranksome gale:
And then an ivy, with a flowering shoot,

Ran up the mast in rings, and kissed the fruit,
Which here and there the dripping vine let down ;
On every oar there was a garland crown."

LEIGH HUNT, translated from Homer.

Milton speaks of "the Ivy-crowned Bacchus." One great charm in the Ivy is, the attraction its berries offer to birds of song, which are constantly hovering about it with their cheerful harmony. But great as is the renown of this elegant shrub, it is charged with a most destructive and deceitful nature; for while it clings fondly to the tree by which it has risen, it kills it in the manner of the bear, by the strictness of its embrace. On this account it has often been found necessary to destroy it. There is a good paper on this subject in the Transactions of the Linnæan Society, in the eleventh volume: the author of which, Mr. Repton, is inimical to its destruction,-for he justly observes, that it is highly ornamental, and useful to the trees; and that it does not girt them nor rob them of their juices, as it derives the whole of its nourishment from its own roots in the ground, as is shown by the destruction of it, when its stem is cut through by the ignorant and prejudiced. Linnæus affirms that it does no injury to buildings, but this it is not easy to allow; for we see that the branches will make their way into a crevice or defect in the wall, and enlarge it by the gradual increase of their bulk, as by the driving in of a wedge. Robert Bloomfield tells us, that the largest Ivy he ever saw was at Ragland Castle. "In this building," says