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Whose aged walls the ivy creeps,
And with her arms from falling keeps:
So, both a safety from the wind
In inutual dependence find.

There can be no doubt as to the real source

from whence ivy draws life and vigor; from the ground alone its maintenance proceeds. To be convinced of this, we have only to inspect it n urrowly on a living tree, and then pay the sa ne attention to it upon a dead one, or upon any stump deprived of vitality. Be our eye as keen as that of the lynx, we shall not be able to perceive that the one plant is more healthy, more vigorous, or more verdant than the other; and if we cut through the stock of the ivy in either situation we shall see that its upper parts will wither and die, down to the place through which the knife has passed.

Some few years ago, a tall sycamore tree stood on this island, in a row with four others. A remnant of its once fine bole still occupies the place which the tree adorned in the days of its prosperity. An unexpected appearance of fungus showed that all was not right within; and, ere long, a gale of wind cut the tree nearly in two, sending its head and all its branches (saving one), with a colony of young jackdaws, down into the lake below. The remaining portion of the tree, spared by the gale, put out new shoots from every part of its circumference. But scarcely had these vegetated for four succeeding summers, when another immense fungus made its appearance about two yards from the truncated top, and all vegetation ceased that year, down to the part where the fungus had come out. Below this, the trunk was still alive; but another fungus, of equal dimensions with the last, showed itself about five feet from the ground, and deprived the bole of all vegetation upwards.

At length this sickly remnant of the sycamore tree received its final doom; for, some time since, a vast profusion of fungus pushed up its circular cakes even from below the surface of the ground; and on their coming to muturity all the living powers within this ill-treated tree expired. The bole now stands a dead and unproductive stump. Any day, a north-west wind, sweeping across the water, may lay it low for ever. Did the ivy, which I had planted at the base many years ago, depend upon this bole for succor, it would now be dead and withered; but, on the contrary, that remaining part of it, free from mutilation when the different portions of the tree fell down, is now in verdure, and in primest vigor; but as it has no longer an opportunity of creeping upwards, on account of the misfortunes which have befallen the tree, it has assumed the form of a bush, with dense and widelyspreading foliage.

An opinion prevails, that ivy not only deforms the branch to which it adheres, but that it is injurious to the growth of the timber itself. My wish for the preservation and maintenance of birds urges ne on to attempt the defence of my favorite plant on these two important points.

The ivy which I planted many years ago and, if I may judge by what I see before my has now obtained a most luxuriant growth; eyes, I must conclude that ivy is in no way detrimental to the tree which has lent it a support. Having given ivy to many trees, and refused it to others in the immediate vicinity, and on the same soil, in order to have a good opportunity of making a fair examination, I find, upon minute inspection of these several trees, that they are all of fine growth, and in a most healthy state; those with ivy on them, and those without it, not varying from each other in appearance more to do. Neither is this to be wondered at, than ordinary groups of forest trees are wont when we reflect that the ivy has its roots in the ground itself, and that it does not ascend in spiral progress round the bole and branches of the tree; its leading shoot is perpendicular. Hence it is not in a position to compress injuriously the expansive powers of the tree, proportionally stronger than its own. fore them; so that, on removing the network we find that the ivy gradually gives way beformed on the bole of the tree, we find no (if it may be so called) which the ivy has indentations there.

Thus

But woodbine acts the reverse of this. Its process is spiral, and it becomes, as it were, an immovable hoop on the plant which it has embraced. As the woodbine, by its circumambient position cannot give way, the plant must consequently protrude wherever it is not compressed, till at last the woodbine becomes nearly buried in it. Thus we account for the fantastic form of walking sticks, which are often to be seen at the shop doors of curious vendors. The spiral hollows in these sticks are always formed by the woodbine, never by the ivy.

Having the workings of the ivy,and those of the woodbine daily before my eyes, I venture, without wishing to impugn the opinions of others, to assert that the latter is injurious, and the former not injurious to the plant which it has embraced; and this, by position alone; for, both having their own roots in the ground, their nutriment is amply supplied from that quarter.

Ivy, when planted on the eastern part of a tree which grows in a high and very exposed situation, can scarcely ever reach the opposite portion of it, on account of the resistance which it meets from the western blast. But it will grow well when placed on the western side itself; for, in this position, the west wind

presses it to the bark of the tree, and thus becomes its friend. I have a fair example of this in my own park. On a bleak brow there stands the hollow remnant of an oak, which, in the days of its prosperity, measured full twenty feet in circumference. Fourteen years ago, I planted ivy on its eastern side. But to this day, that portion of the bole facing the west remains uncovered by the ivy, which, in its annual attempt to surmount the difficulty, is arrested in its course, and ultimately driven back by the fury of the western gales.

If we wish to see ivy growing in all the luxuriance of health and beauty, we must plant it at the root of some tall Scotch fir, in a low and sheltered situation. Nothing can be more charming or lovely to the sight, than the widely-extending mass of verdure with which it will clothe the bole of the tree. I have a remarkable Scotch fir here with ivy round it. The ivy sends its horizontal branches out from the bole to a distance of

six or seven feet in vast profusion, and its verdure is so perfectly in unison with the foliage of the fir, that, when you are standing at a little distance, you will be charmed with the additional beauty which it confers upon its stately supporter.

that I have living forest trees, of all ages and descriptions, to bear me out in what I have advanced.

In conclusion, I wish to say a word or two of mutual indentation produced by the union of two forest trees. Near the walk which leads to the flower-garden may be seen a tall English elm and a Scotch fir growing in close embrace. By twisting the leading shoot of one tree annually round that of the other, the trees have become deeply embedded in each other's folds. The elm being of stronger vegetation than the spruce, I have taken the precaution of curtailing the lateral branches of the former, lest it should prove too much for its weaker partner. CHARLES WATERTON.

Walton Hall.

MORE ABOUT "LITTLE THINGS."

THE PHENOMENA OF DEW.

EVERYBODY talks of the dew which falls; and everybody imagines he knows all about it. Yet would he, if pressed for an explanation, be sadly puzzled to give it. Now, as none of us are "too old to learn," let us carefully consider the matter. It is just the very sea

son to do so.

I have ever cultivated with great success my three favorite evergreens--the yew, the suffice to say that, when the direct influence To give a popular definition of dew, it will holly, and the ivy. They give food and of the sun is removed in the evening, the surshelter to many species of British birds, which face of the earth, in consequence of the ceaseare so sadly persecuted by gardeners and less activity of caloric to maintain a state of gamekeepers, throughout the whole extent equilibrium, radiates a portion of its superof the land. I consider the ivy more service-fluous temperature into surrounding space; able than the other two, as its berries ripen at a season of the year when the ordinary food of the fields is far from being, plentiful. The berries of the holly are abundant at the same time, but the birds are not nearly so fond of them.

Without these ever-verdant auxiliaries

close at hand, I should have but a poor chance of observing the habits of our birds with satisfaction to myself. Writers on ornithology may consult volume after volume of other writers on ornithology who have gone before them; and they may extract from the pages that which in their judgment may appear the best-but unless they themselves have spent years in the field, and those consulted have done the same, it is to be

feared that their labors will fall short of

their wishes. Errors unintentional, and false surmises, and rash speculations will creep into their works, in spite of every precaution to avoid them. Their production, in truth,

will be,

“similis volucri,—non vera volucris." Probably, my statement that ivy is not injurious to the tree which has lent it a support may be at variance with the opinion of those who are learned in botany. If so, I beg to say

and as the temperature of the air immediately in contact with the surface thus becomes reduced below the point of saturation, a part of its water is condensed in the form of dew.

Ever since the time of Aristotle, the phenomena and cause of this deposition have engaged the attention of philosophers; but until comparatively recent experimental investigations, all our views on this subject bodies on which dew is deposited, have invawere merely speculative. The fact that the riably a lower temperature than the ambient air, had been pointed out by Dr. Patrick Wilson of Glasgow; but while this coldness was supposed to be the effect of the deposition of dew, it was reserved for Dr. Wells to make the important discovery, that it always precedes the formation of dew; and is in reality the cause of this aqueous vapor.

66

Prior to the appearance of Dr. Wells's elegant Essay on Dew," it was a disputed question among philosophers, whether the phenomenon is produced by the rising of vapors from the earth, or by its descent from the atinosphere. The circumstance that the glass-bells with which gardeners cover plants during the night have, in the morning, their interior covered with moisture-gave origin,

it is said, to the opinion that this humidity arises from the earth. Dr. Dufay, a French philosopher, maintained this opinion, based on the following experiment. Taking two long ladders, he fixed them so that they met at the top and were wide apart at the bottom, and attached to the several rounds large panes of glass. Observing that the lower surface of the lowest pane was first wetted; then the upper, next the lower surface of the one above it, then its upper, and so on to the top of the ladders, he deduced the conclusion that dew is caused by the exhalation of vapors from the earth during the night.

On the other hand, it was urged, in proof of the descent of vapor, that in cloudy weather little or no dew is formed. The fallacy of both these hypotheses has been proved by Dr. Wells, by a most beautiful inductive process; in which he shows that dew is produced by the condensation of the atmospheric vapor surrounding the bodies on which it is deposited. There were other difficulties still more perplexing connected with the first question-Does the vapor producing dew rise or fall? For example, while some substances receive the deposition of dew very readily, there are others on which it cannot be deposited.

tween diurnal and nocturnal temperature may be less in the former-a fact that finds an explanation in the circumstance, that an increase of temperature is attended with more than a corresponding increase of moisture.

standing the atmosphere may be in other 3. A serene and cloudless sky. Notwiththe sky is veiled in clouds, occurs; for, as the respects favorable, little or no deposition, if caloric radiated from the earth is reflected back by the clouds, the temperature of objects on its surface is little diminished. Screens of

an opaque material, interposed between the the same effect; and, accordingly, a thermosky, and the surface of the earth, produced meter laid on a table, compared with one placed on the ground beneath it, indicated a lower temperature. Even fogs, which are precipitated from the higher air, acting as screens, are unfavorable to the deposition of true dew, which is separated from the inferior atmospheric stratum.

from the circumstance, that if the lower 4. Serene and calm weather. This follows atmosphere be in violent motion, it will maintain the general temperature of bodies on the surface of the earth; and hence, too, every condition which favors radiation, as a dark color or a rough surface, contributes to

the deposition of dew.

the dew is deposited must be considerably lower 5. The temperature of the body upon which than that of the ambient air. This is the most essential requisite. Dr. Wells, in his experi

But every circumstance connected with this phenomenon finds the most satisfactory explanation in the beautiful theory proposed by Dr. Wells, and now universally adopted by philosophers-a theory which depends upon two principles, viz., the nocturnal radiation of caloric and the condensation of invi-ments, found the bodies on which dew formed to be 10 or 15° colder than the atmosphere. sible vapor. One important lesson at least is taught by the history of these opinions, which is, the absolute necessity of basing our theories upon authenticated and well-investigated experiments, carried out under the guidance of legitimate deductions.

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1. An atmosphere replete with moisture. That the moisture must be in excess before it can be deposited, is evidenced by the fact, that in Egypt no dew is formed when the winds blow from the south, over the extensive tracts of sandy desert; but so soon as the wind changes to the north, laden with moisture from the Mediterranean, the deposition is remarkably great.

2. The difference between the temperature of the earth in the day and the night must be considerable. Consequently, the deposition is greatest when a sultry day is followed by a cool evening; and, for the same reason, the dews are most abundant, in our climate, in spring and autumn, as then the difference of temperature is greatest. But hot climates have more copious dews than temperate countries, notwithstanding the difference be

Different bodies, according to their constitution, possess different powers of radiation. For instance, metals and vitreous substances are, in this respect, in very opposite extremes. Bad conductors or bad reflectors are, as a general law, good radiators; but the power of radiation, as just remarked, depends greatly upon the nature of the surface. Hence, a piece of wool, or a plate of glass, placed in à horizontal position, favors the deposition of dew; but a piece of polished metal will retain its lustre, notwithstanding every blade of grass around it may be drooping with the pressure of condensed vapor. These facts lead at once to the deduction, that during the night, the temperature of different substances varies in accordance with their respective powers of radiation and conduction.

Thus have these deductions been developed by Dr. Wells, in a long series of experiments, as conclusive as they are ingenious. His admirable work is well worth being consulted by every one who takes an interest in physical facts as a science, or by the mere practical horticulturist. His extensive operations have enabled him to apply many useful precautions to the cultivation and preserva

The

SONG OF THE MARCH WINDS.

"COME from your eyries, come from your caves,"
To his sons, old Æolus cries:
Come with the rush of the ocean waves,
With a lion's strength and a lion's roar,
And drive them along the sounding shore,

And the cloud-rack o'er the skies,
For your favorite month, the month of the winds,
March, stormy March, is here;
"Tis your gala now-no fetter binds
Your Bacchanal career.

Go, then, ye are free
To hold jubilee !

Go, keep your wild orgies, sing in your glee,
And lord it o'er land and sea !

"Hark! 'tis our father Æolus calls

tion of fruits, flowers, and plants.
effect produced by the intervention of a
substance between the radiating body on the
surface of the earth and the upper regions of
the air (which are well known to be the
abodes of perpetual congelation), has an
important bearing on horticulture. Even a
thin wire gauze, suspended over a body which
readily admits the deposition of dew, will
suffice to prevent its occurrence. "I had
often," says Dr. W., "in the pride of half-
knowledge, smiled at the means frequently
employed by gardeners to protect plants from
cold, as it appeared to me impossible that a
thin mat, or any such flimsy substance, could
prevent them from attaining the temperature
of the atmosphere, by which alone I thought
them liable to be injured. But when I had
learned that bodies on the surface of the
earth become, during a still and serene night,
colder than the atmosphere, by radiating
their heat to the Heavens, I perceived im-
mediately a just reason for the practice which
I had before deemed useless. Being desirous,
however, of acquiring some precise informa-
tion on this subject, I fixed perpendicularly,
in the earth of a grass-plot, four small sticks; When we make the king of the forest bow,
and over their upper extremities, which were
six inches above the grass, and formed the
corners of a square, the sides of which were
two feet long, I drew tightly a very thin
cambric handkerchief. The temperature of
the grass, which was thus shielded from the
sky, was upon many nights afterwards ex-
amined by me, and was always found higher
than that of the neighboring grass which was
uncovered, if this was colder than the air."

Stern Boreas shouts. From our cavern-halls
Come, brothers, up and away!"
In a rolling whirlwind let's burst on the earth,
And riot and revel in mischief and mirth!
Oh! is it not a glorious play

To

And

lash the sea-horses' manes of snow,
Till they toss the white foam to Heaven;
plunge the proud bark in the gulf below,
With its timbers all rent and riven?
We've rare sport, I trow,

With the oaken prow,

Like a reed, his stately brow!"

"Aye! and better still than 'mid raging floods,
We'll conquer the oak in his own
Domain!" cries the treacherous East. "In the
woods

We'll shake their strong monarch, and hunt him
down;

And tear from his forehead its branchy crown,
And topple him off his throne!
Come, gentle South! with thy softest breath
Then away! and leave our work of death
Tempt the fragile maiden forth;
To me and the piercing North,
We'll nip her young bloom,
As a blight doth consume

The result of an experiment will be vitiated as much even by the vicinity of a house or a tree, as if a substance were actually interposed between the surface of the earth and the sky. It is well known that, in spots shielded by the spreading branches of a tree, The young rose; and when we have sealed her

dew is much less abundantly deposited. This fact was not unknown to the immortal Milton, who says—

Full forty days he passed, whether on hill Sometimes, anon on shady vale, each night Under the covert of some ancient oak, Or cedar, to defend him from the dew. As dew not unfrequently partakes of the sensible qualities of the bodies upon which it is deposited, it has sometimes been erroneously confounded with foreign substances. "What is termed honey-dew," says Dr. Traill, "generally owes its qualities to the saccharine exudation from the bodies of the insects

doom,

Sing merrily o'er her tomb!"

"Shame! out on your barbarous revelry!"
Mild Zephyrus tenderly sighs;
"Stay, gentle South! and soon follow with me
To the wreck-strewn ocean, and ravaged wood,
And enjoy the pure bliss of doing good-

Sole pleasure which never dies.
We'll kiss the pale check, undo the fell curse,
The maid to her lover restore;

Smooth the rough billows, the chilled flowers

nurse,

And fan them to life once more.
Thus, thus we'll prepare
For our lady fair,

And blessings everywhere."

called Aphides. The jelly-dew is believed to Sweet April! scattering balm on the air,
be the original form of a cryptogamian
vegetable production, the Tremella nostoc of
Linnæus; a membraneous, pellucid, greenish-
yellow matter, about one or two inches in
width, which is at first moist and soft to the
touch, but dries into a blackish membrane."

A GOOD-NATURED HINT.

EXCESS in apparel invariably denotes a fool, whether in man or woman. The very "trimmings" of the vain world would clothe ALL the naked ones.

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Thou art a mighty leveller, in sooth,
And in the twinkling of an eye canst slay
More marshalled foes with thy two-edged sweep,
Than Sampson in a century could fall.

THERE seems to be an inveterate propensity in all the animate creation to be always making a noise during their waking hours. And verily a good portion of the said creation cannot remain quiet even in sleep; but in their dreams keep snoring and babbling at such a rate, that a blind man would find it difficult in their society to tell when it was time to go to bed.

the mingled matin. Crow calls to crow from the distant pine tops, and eagle screams to eagle from opposite mountain peaks.

Now the prime minister in the great diapason of sound which rules our universe, is of all organisations. Place thy mirror before the tongue-that apparently most insignificant thee, gentle reader, and examine it attentively. Is it not a puny part and parcel of humanity? Verily there appertains to it nothing of the os hominis sublime. It hath neither the rose-tint of the lip, nor the fair beauty of the cheek, nor the fearless bearing of the nose, nor the soul-speaking expression of the eye, nor the princely grandeur of the lift d brow. It is a little squab, brandycolored, unsymmetrical, and unpoetical per

Whether this continued infringement on the sober propriety of silence be the result of habit, or some mysterious influence operating on the passions, it is not easy to de-sonage, without either dignity or comeliness. termine. It is not improbable, however, that such a principle exists. We know that gravitation controls and approximates every particle of matter, however remote or dissimilar; and why may not the principle of sympathy have a like influence upon every individual mind throughout the universe?

Now, on the supposition that this is so, and that the theory of the ancients with regard to sphere-music is correct. which tells us that every orb has its individual and appropriate melody, which, blending with the music of all the others, forms the harmony of creation-we can plausibly account for the said propensity among the inhabitants of this mundane sphere. For man being an imitative animal, and very susceptible of outward impressions, cannot remain silent while all nature is lifting up its voice around him. Oh, what a noisy fellow a man is! In the theatre he shouts, hisses, or whistles; and in Parliament he yells and imitates cats as well as dogs. He must be heard, somewhere. He loves the sound of his own voice.

Apropos of sound; there is a sort of cacoethes imitandi which infests the tongue of every living thing. It is not confined to man alone, but to the lower animals also; and you may notice it, whenever you please, in the country. It is really delightful to go out into the fields of a summer morning just as the day is breaking. At first all is still, except the low dreamy sound of unfolding vegetation, which is for ever stealing forth, even in the deepest retirement of nature. By-and-by, as the dawn advances, the voice of some wakeful chanticleer breaks in upon the stillness with a clear and silvery cadence, -like the first note of a clarionet heard at evening far away upon the waters; and before its last echo has expired a response comes ringing back from every "harem " in the valley. Presently the robin commences his plaintive but eccentric song, to be answered by his mate in the neighboring coppice. Bird after bird breaks in, till every grove is vocal with

The novelist gives you page after page about the silken lashes, the radiant orbs, the glossy heroine; but never does he waste a syllable locks, and the polished forehead of his on the form or feature of her tongue. The his imagination; and, besides, he is aware fact is, it is too prosaic for the dalliance of

which fancy can accumulate, the world would set him down as a visionary, and assert outright, that though her face may be as beautiful as a peri's, her tongue can be no better than it should be. Being one of those commonplace objects which experience has always found insignificant, it cannot be dignified by tropes, nor exalted by high-sounding epithets. Indeed, a simile would be utterly lost upon it, if used to illustrate its shape rather than its abilities; for I know of nothing within the whole circle of existence, to which it can be compared with the least shadow of resemblance.

that should he throw about it all the charms

a

In form, the tongue is a physical anomaly, material nondescript,without "kith or kin;' and whoever should attempt to classify it with any known species of objects, would manifest as much reason in the undertaking, as the idiot displayed when he set about climbing a sapling to get a better view of the stars. It seems as if Nature was ashamed of her work, or why has she taken such pains to hide it from observation? For what other possible purpose than as a concealed place of banishment for this unsightly member, could she have formed the mouth-that horrible excavation in the "human face divine," whose abyss has engulfed more fortunes than the Norwegian maelstrom? There she has secreted it, "squat like a toad;" within a double bastion of teeth, and a two-fold curtain of lips; and there, like the sibyl of Delphos, invisible and in darkness, it fashions its intrigues, and utters its varied oracles.

With all these defences, however, the tongue is the most consummate coward in

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