THE DISAPPEARANCE OF PLANTS 93 



common at Westminster, and the wild clary in "the 

 fields of Holborne neere unto Grayes Inne " ; in "a 

 lane against St. Pancras' Church " the wild lettuce 

 grew, and the deadly nightshade in a ditch at 

 Islington, and the beautiful marsh gentian on Clapham 

 Common; while the rare vervaine mallow was to be 

 seen "on the ditch sides on the left hand of the place 

 of execution by London, called Tyborn." Needless to 

 say, these plants have long since disappeared; and what 

 has happened in the case of the "all-devouring wen," as 

 Cobbett years ago called London, has been repeated in 

 a lesser degree in many districts throughout the country. 

 But more destructive to all native flora than even 

 the growth of towns must be reckoned the vast system 

 of drainage which has been carried out in many parts 

 of England. In olden times, to take the most striking 

 illustration, the great fen district of Cambridgeshire 

 and Huntingdon was a grand place to the naturalist. 

 Kingsley has painted in glowing colours the ancient 

 glories of Whittlesea Mere, where "dark green alders 

 and pale green reeds stretched for miles round the 

 broad lagoon ; where the coot clanked and the bittern 

 boomed, and the sedge-bird, not content with its own 

 sweet song, mocked the notes of all the birds around ; 

 while high overhead hung, motionless, hawk beyond 

 hawk, buzzard beyond buzzard, kite beyond kite, as far 

 as eye could see." It is all changed now. The vast 

 solitude, the home of some of our rarest wild-flowers, 

 the haunt of the great copper butterfly, now lost to the 

 whole world, the breeding-place of ruffs and reeves, has 

 been converted into enormous cornfields, where — 



" All the land in flowery squares, 

 Beneath a broad and equal-blowing wind, 

 Smells of the coming summer." 



