was all caiTied oif when ferns became " the fashion," and Covent Garden rejoices in the glorious fox-gloves 

 which used to shoot up in such profusion in our dells. Our lichens and mosses trim the bottoms of all 

 the stuffed-animals' glass cases, a few acres of herb Paris remain, but no one seems to fancy that dowdy 

 plant ! The Mycologist, however, has as yet no need to complain ; whether we explore the Warmouut, 

 where Agaricus Georgii grows in its vast rings above old Roman sepulchres, and where in the hottest 

 summer- day the air blows chilly round the Black-Ness, as it is justly called, for at a distance its promon- 

 torial nose generally looms dark and dull; or whether we roam through the warm, reeking, moist 

 atmosphere of the lovely dell called Pole Cat Alley, where tall birches weep over our heads, their silver 

 stems rising gracefully among the gnarled pollard-oaks ; where feathery fern grows six feet liigh beside the 

 mossy green, always dewy path, which the mole and the mole-cricket take the Kberty of ploughing up, and 

 we bury our foot in the loosened earth, as we are looking after that night-jar which just flew from among 

 the branches ; where the rabbit's white scut pops out of sight, and the adder and grey snake are said to 

 haunt, but we never met them ; where nightingales may be heard all day, and you cannot hear yourself 

 for nightingales in the warm luscious dewy evenings ; there, whether among dead leaves which lie for years 

 preventing all herbage from growing, or upon the turf, grassy parasites — the Mycologist finds Im treasures 

 undisturbed ; happy people we ! for our common is not worth enclosing ! and if speculation longed to try 

 experiments, all the parish would rise as one to oppose it. So Agarics, Boletuses, et hoc genus omne are 

 likely still to flourish. 



