That this peculiar plant has been looked upon as no ordinary object from time immemorial, both by pagans and Christians, we have the strongest evidence; and however much our ancestors may have regarded it, their descendants seem to exhibit no lack of interest in it in our own time. Its economic uses are but few, although at one time it was supposed to possess medicinal properties which are not ascribed to it now. To our pleasant, sylvan, feathered friends, however, it gives both aid and comfort, inasmuch as it affords nutritious food to several species; the glutinous berries of which are eagerly sought for when inclement wintry weather cuts off the supply of other kinds So it appears we are not the only bipeds who still find a use for mistletoe. And as a plant of very singular structure and most peculiar habit, it will never cease to draw the attention of observant eyes whenever seen. In remote times it may have preferred the sturdy oak to other kinds of trees. We have abundant proof that it is by no means fastidious about the species it now selects for support, and "sticketh closer than a brother" to.

Notwithstanding its many disadvantages, compared with the facilities most other forms of plant life have of multiplying with greater freedom, it is not likely to disappear from the flora as long as trees continue to live from which it may derive its nurture.

This little abnormal curio, in its struggle for existence on the arboreal giants its lot has so long been cast among, seems incapable of elevating itself upon a trunk of its own, and is thus compelled, perforce of circumstances, to seek its living upon other trees, as we frequently find it.

From Mr. John Thorp's interesting experiments of propagating the mistletoe, we learn how strongly inherent are its propensities to live upon almost any tree or shrub capable of supplying it with plant food congenial to its nature. The last experiments of that kind the writer made, were in South Carolina, in 1860, upon a couple of good sized orange and lemon trees, an Illicium, several Camellias, a Pittosporum, a Nerium, a Laurestinus, and a Banksia rose, which were growing out of doors, as they usually do in that section of country. And when he left there, they all seemed to be growing. But of their subsequent history he is unable to give any account; yet, doubts not but they are living, from the readiness with which the mistletoe berries seemed to germinate wherever inserted.

Recognizing as reliable, the many accounts intelligent observers furnish of its general aptitude to appropriate for subsistence and security, the most convenient trunk or branch, with the greatest freedom possible, of any kind of trees; it will not surprise the reader, it is presumed, when informed that he who records these facts has seen it growing in the Southern States upon Pinus aus-tralis, Celtis Mississippiensis, Magnolia grandiflora, Viburnum prunifolium, Castanea pumila, Persimmon, Tupelo, Maples, and various kinds of Oaks. Of the last named family, it was mostly found upon Quercus virens, Q. nigra, Q. alba, Q. phellos, and Q. aquatica. Though usually found upon these five species, there is no reason to suppose it does not find a resting place upon other kinds.

I am not aware of ever having discovered it on the apple tree in this country, as we may find it almost in every orchard or garden in Europe, and which it seems to prefer there to other trees. In that hemisphere, instances are common where it may be seen flourishing upon the Apple, Pear, Hawthorn, Sloe, Willow, Poplar, Elm, Maple, Hazel, Hornbeam, Ash, Scotch Pine, Olive, and occasionally the Oak. And no matter upon whatsoever kind of tree or shrub it may fasten to, it never fails to interest the intelligent beholder wherever seen.

Professor Meehan wisely observes. It adapts itself to the changed conditions our planet has experienced, which long lapses of time have brought about during the last two thousand years and upwards, when, at that distant period, it seems to have exclusively united with the Oak. He says: " Now climates must of necessity change, and the climate of Great Britain cannot possibly be the same as it was when the Druids cut the Mistletoe from the Oak trees, and with the climatic change there will naturally be a change of trees by the Mistletoe, to suit the new conditions." And it is thus we find it now, under the new conditions, affiliating without apparent choice or selection, with trees of many kinds.

With these facts before us possibly some enterprising nurseryman in this country may find it to nis advantage to prepare small trees for sale, upon which this singular plant is growing, as several of that profession have done beyond sea.

With all the historic renown which has clung to the Mistletoe for ages past, together with the more pleasant associations which have so long invested this ancient parasite and which are likely to survive all those who may read these remarks for thousands of years after they have passed away to "the better land," it will still find favor with posterity. For as long as man continues to leave his foot-prints on the sand, and the Mistletoe remains to cast its shadow upon the soil it seems forbidden to touch, will our existing race admire and cherish it.

And while paying a passing tribute of esteem to this comely little bush I have so fondly remembered from childhood's happy hours, I deeply regret to hear it is charged with being "the chief enemy" of the Water Oaks at Aiken, S. C, or elsewhere. And are we to infer from so uncanny an allegation that it is "the chief enemy" among trees like "the evil one" of unsavory repute among mankind? However that may be, I honestly confess I feel somewhat reluctant to henceforth look upon what I have hitherto considered a harmless, innocent-looking little evergreen, as the ligneous ogre of the present time, even should it when pressed by hunger quietly devour a few unresisting trees in its laudable endeavors to live. And with strong prepossessions in its favor, I am unwilling to believe it is such a vegetable vampire as to cause unnecessary alarm to the many true lovers of sylvan beauty. Then take comfort with me, ye gentle ones in whom there is no guile, and know that should some few weak trees succumb to the too vigorous embraces of the parasitical company they keep, there will still be millions left to supply the places of the defunct ones so that they and the Mistletoe may co-exist together again.

And as these fragmentary remarks are drawing to a close, faithful memory vividly portrays many a handsome and fruitful Apple tree upon which I have seen the pretty pearl-berried bush attached in the fertile, well-kept, quaint old gardens of England, and which to wilfully injure would have been an unpardonable offence impossible to atone for. With feelings bordering upon reverence for it we can hardly wonder that it should be so when we consider how much interest or curiosity it has excited in the minds of the junior members of the family, generation after generation, as each have had their attention called to it in the days that are gone, and of whom it might possibly bring back to remembrance after many rolling years happy reminiscences of beloved, vanished forms, whom Death has gathered in.

While thus lingering upon these pleasant Mistletoe recollections, faint pictures of half-forgotten events seem to reappear on the fading canvas again, and give transient glimpses of an ivy draped old Oak, spreading its rugged arms over a mossy crag, from beneath which bubbled a cool, pellucid spring. This little bosky Dryad fountain supplied a winding, sparkling rill, which gently meandered along the grassy slope beautifully fringed with tufts of green rushes, sedges, ferns, pearlworts and crowfoot, to a picturesque pool, some thirty yards off among the bushes further down, and over which a leaning Hawthorn cast a flickering shade. To this charming bit of natural scenery I often rambled when a happy school-boy, to wade and dabble about among the water-cresses, forget-me-nots, and brooklimes, and to gather ripe sloes, blackberries, and filberts, which hung so temptingly in nutting time. Well do I remember seeing interwoven among the gnarled branches of the lichen, usnea, and moss-covered thorn, several good sized clusters of Mistletoe, and which my father, when visiting this leafy, verdant spot, first pointed out to me.

After an absence of many years, I returned in 1881, when I strolled to this very romantic nook again, I verily believe I saw retaining the same local habitation the identical bunches of the old gray-green parasite once more, which I had previously noticed when a boy. And oh, how all the objects around seemed to remind me of the eventful past; and while briefly forgetting the vicissitudes I had experienced since then, fancied there had "Again returned the scenes of youth, Of confident undoubting truth".

Mount Holly, N. J., November 2gth, 1886.