112 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN. 



Over its grave in the earth so chilly; 

 Heavily hangs the hollyhock, 

 Heavily hangs the tiger lily." 



Amid all the decay and death of this season, few things, 

 to the ordinary observer, are more repulsive than the rapid 

 growth of fungi ; on trees, on grass plots and borders, these 

 evil-reputed things spring up, adding, by their slimy and 

 poisonous appearance, to the desolate feeling of dreary 

 autumn days. Yet, see what a poetical charm can be 

 throw^n around even these by one who, in an earnest study 

 of God's works, has learned to call nothing " common or 

 unclean." 



" Fungi are intimately associated with autumn ; unrobed 

 prophets, that see no sad visions themselves, but that bring 

 to us thoughts of change and decay. Indeed, so close is 

 this association, that they may be called autumn's peculiar 

 plants. The blue bell still lingers in the sod, and in the 

 woods a few bright but evanescent and scentless flowers 

 appear, but fungi and fruits form the wreath that encircles 

 the sober and melancholy brow of autumn : fruits, the 

 death of flower life ; fungi, the resurrection of plant death. 

 This tribe of plants comes in at a peculiarly seasonable 

 time, when the more aristocratic members of the vegetable 

 kingdom have departed, leaving the favourite haunts of the 

 botanist bare and destitute of interest. Their collection in 

 the field, and the study of their peculiarities in the closet, will 

 furnish ample occupation of a most absorbing and fascinat- 

 ing nature during the whole season.'' '' 



* ''Footnotes from the Page of Nature." 



