former, though but known to modern times, has been believed by the ignorant to be the tree so venerated by "the mighty dead," the classic bay; the mistake may have originated in the latter being called laurel and its fruit being named bayes. Various writers have, however, come forward to assert its just rights, and restore to it its "local habitation and its name;" and the Laurus nobilis at last occupies that station in botanical works which, from its "old renown," it may fairly demand.

It was commonly believed by the ancients that the bay was instrumental in quickening the fancy, and exciting poetic inspiration; on which account the votaries of the muse were wont to sleep on the leaves of this tree.

The bay being held sacred to Apollo, the poet only seems to have a right to claim it as his own; but we have the authority of the ancients for extending the privilege to other aspirants after fame, as in early times it was seen by turns encircling the brows of the prince and warrior, as well as the poet. The Abbé Resnel considers the custom of crowning poets to be coëval with poetry itself; but other writers fix it at a much later date, even so late as the reign of Domitian, before which period, they affirm, no authentic account can be

produced of such ceremonial ever being observed. It certainly appears strange that the Greeks-a a people so ready to appreciate and reward merit of every kind and degree should forget the claims of the poet. The afore-mentioned tyrant, "affecting the patronage of literature, among other solemnities with which he celebrated the annual Quinquatria to Minerva, introduced contests of orators and poets;" and the successful competitor was crowned in the presence of the applauding multitude. "The establishment of Christianity restrained, and afterwards extinguished, these ceremonies.” They were, however, revived some centuries after; and, in 1341, Petrarch, the greatest man of his times, was crowned with all due solemnity in the Capitol. The same ceremony was also to have been repeated in the person of Tasso; but he died the night before it should have taken place.

In these rites the bay was generally in requisition, though sometimes it was left to the choice of the individual whether bay, ivy, or myrtle, should compose his

crown.

After contemplating its lofty destiny, as being the meed of the conqueror and the poet, there is something inexpressibly ludicrous in viewing the part it was for

merly called to sustain in the festivities of Christ

mas:

"Then the grim boar's head frown'd on high,

Crested with bays and rosemary."

Alas! "how fallen from its high estate!"

Evelyn says that while young this tree grows best under its "mother's shade, where nothing else will thrive;" thus forming a comment on a passage in Virgil, translated by Martyn, "The little Parnassian bay shelters itself under the shade of its mother." It also possesses, in a remarkable degree, the power of resuscitation: long after it has appeared dead, if left undisturbed, it will put forth leaves again, and assume its pristine vigour. On this account a sprig of bay was formerly thrown on the coffin at the time of interment; being considered a striking symbol of the resurrection of the dead.

Many more interesting anecdotes and associations connected with the bay might be added to the above, but we must leave them to other hands, and notice its noble rival, the palm.