OCTOBEB. 493 



the homely Bramble, with all its prickles and its sable 

 fruit, urges on the botanist to the latest explorations 

 of the season; and its excitements are joyous and 

 delectable, as I have often found with enthusiastic 

 friends. See its shoots spreading and rooting with 

 wild luxuriance, long panicles of sable fruit depend- 

 ing, its digitated leaves now becoming crimson-stained 

 or dotted with purple from the attacks of epiphytical 

 fungi, its stems horrent with thorns, and sparkling 

 with purple setae. Other more erect ones are lifted 

 high into air, forming dense spreading thickets of 

 fruit and verdure almost impenetrable. Thanks to 

 the Rubi for many a pleasant excursion. One of the 

 last, in company with a botanical friend, was chequered 

 by a rushing storm when among the glades and shin- 

 ing pools of Sutton Park, near Sutton-Coldfield. The 

 skies suddenly blackened, empurpled the pools, and 

 shadowed the fading groves the wind crackled the 

 dead branches as it swept along and then poured 

 down the descending deluge with such rapidity that 

 our books and papers (for we were then at our de- 

 jeune) were at once soaked, and we ourselves some- 

 what damped in ardour ere we could run to the dense 

 clustered hollies that offered their friendly shade. 

 There we hugged our shelter while the pools were all 

 in ferment with the violent rain, until a smile of sun- 

 shine again gladdened the solemn woods. 



Last in the train of our native wild shrubs, the Ivy 

 (Heeler a helix), now exhibits on many a garden wall 

 or neglected ruin, its sad inconspicuous and almost 

 unnoticed flowers. They present no beauty in their 

 aspect, yet are courted as a last resource by bees, flies, 

 and many dipterous insects, and even the brightest 



