OF BRITISH FUNGI. 3 



of them where it is not. Wherever decaying vege- 

 table matter exists, we may expect to find a new 

 race flourishing amid the debris, as in the decay 

 of the garden of " the sensitive plant " described 

 by Shelley : 



And plants at whose name the verse feels loath, 

 Fill'd the place with a monstrous undergrowth, 

 Prickly and pulpous, and blistering, and blue, 

 Livid, and starr'd with a lurid dew, 



And agarics, and fungi, with mildew and mould, 

 Started like mist from the wet ground cold'; 

 Pale, fleshy, as if the decaying dead 

 With a spirit of growth had been animated. 



Their mass rotted off them flake by flake, 

 Till the thick stalk stuck like a murderer's stake, 

 Where rags of loose flesh yet tremble on high, 

 Infecting the winds that wander by. 



Such a spot is an almost certain home for fungi. 

 Every rotten stump or twig, every decaying leaf or fruit, 

 has its peculiar species, some large enough to attract 

 immediate attention, others so small as to be invisible 

 to the unaided eye. But we need not travel from home 

 to meet with examples : the unwelcome dry-rot may 

 have committed its ravages beneath our kitchen floor ; 

 or the walls of our cellars, and our casks, or bottles of 

 wine, may be infested with members of this ubiquitous 

 race. Can we find no morsel of bread or cheese upon 

 which a mould is flourishing ? no towel or other article 

 of household linen presenting traces of mildew ? Are 

 we perfectly certain that all our preserves are un visited ? 

 B 2 



