Conenso.—On a Collection of Ferns. 317 
around) the modern well-known saying of “the survival of the 
fittest,’—-where, however, all seem alike to be fitting. I have often 
thought, when contemplating a fine and beautiful patch of richly- 
coloured Cryptogams (like this I have just attempted to describe, or, rather, 
faintly to outline)—especially on seeing it in all its freshness, just after 
rain, and with the sun shining on it—that, should the art of fixing colours 
and hues in perfection by photography ever be attained, such a delightful 
living picture as this would assuredly early be taken, and excite great 
admiration, and not unlikely be largely copied in the way of mural house- 
decoration. 
I give up all attempts at describing the few New Zealand birds to be 
seen there at this early season, although such greatly add to the living 
beauty of the scene. Prominently among them, if you keep yourself quietly 
hidden under the thick shrubs, is to be observed to perfection that eminently 
handsome and musical bird the tuii (Prosthemadera novae-zealandia) flitting 
about from branch to branch in quest of honey, with its shining metallic 
plumage of many hues glancing in the sun, not unfrequently accompanied 
by a lively pair of the fan-tail flycatcher (Rhipidura flabellifera) ; and then 
there is the changing light of the sun itself, peering down through the lofty 
trees, ever and anon flecked and checquered by the passing summer clouds. 
One dear little black-and-white very small bird of the size of a canary 
(Petroica toitoi) I must however mention—not because of its great beauty or 
its song, for it is mute (or, at all events, although I have often seen it, I 
have never once heard its note), but because of its peculiar habit of in- 
quisitiveness, or something of that nature; for, as sure as I have quietly 
seated myself to rest awhile or to examine a specimen, this little fellow will 
suddenly and quietly make his appearance, and hop up from twig to twig 
quite close, and then sit and watch intently (and with seeming gratification) 
all my doings. I have sometimes thought that he had previously been 
narrowly observing all my movements through the forest. At such times, 
too, queer fancies and old weird stories of the transmigration of souls, etc., 
come rushing into one's mind, and carry one perforce away with them to 
far-off thoughts of many things. Altogether it is a scene of surpassing 
beauty—to be contemplated in order to be well-conceived or believed. 
In the later autumnal season all this living environment is changed— 
just as in our gardens and orchards, our shrubberies and woodlands—yet 
still beautiful; nature under another aspect— 
* Ever changing, ever new, 
When will the landscape tire the view ?” 
Now, around, at that same spot, instead of spring flowers we have autumn 
fruits, and though but small,and not belonging to the edible and useful 
