A fanciful observer of nature will find some resemblance between the dispositions of mankind and the qualities of trees. We have most of us met with characters aspiring as the pine, timid as the aspen, gloomy as the cypress, cheerful as the holly, heartless as the elderberry, fruitful as the vine, flexible as the willow, sturdy as the oak, or tough and enduring as the ash.

The manna ash (F. ornus) belongs to the same genus, and is a native of the South of Europe, flowering in May and June. The flowers, which are white, grow in pannicles; the calyx, when distinct, and the corolla are four parted; there are two stamens and one pistil; the capsule contains only one seed. The valuable drug manna is a gum, which exudes spontaneously from the bark. A new chemical substance, called mannite, has recently been separated from manna, and is said to possess all the valuable properties of manna, as a laxative for infants, without any of its nauseous taste.

The fig tree (Ficus carica) is a native of Asia and the South of Europe, which has been cultivated for its fruit time immemorial. The flowers appear in June and July, and the fruit late in the autumn; but it rarely ripens in this country, unless protected in a greenhouse.

This tree is often mentioned in holy Scriptures, and the expression to dwell "under his own vine and fig tree," is full of meaning, presenting at once to our mind a state of prosperity, peace, happiness, and security.

TWENTY-FOURTH CLASS.

CRYPTOGAMIA.

As an example of the first order, one of the most common plants is the male fern, (Aspidium filix, mas.,) indigenous to our woods and heaths, which comes into seed in July and August. The leaves are in tufts, with the mid rib covered with very thin brownish scales. The reproductive particles (Sporule) are contained in small dot-like brown capsules on the under edge of the leaves. The roots, which are black, scaly, and much matted together, are celebrated as a medicine for destroying worms, and Madame Nouffleur received a large sum of money from the French government, for making the fact public, which she had for some time kept secret. Recently the buds of the leaves have been found to be more efficacious than the roots, and are now employed in France chiefly for expelling tape worms.

Another common example of this order, is popularly termed maiden hair, (Adiantum capillus veneris,) a very elegant fern with small leaves, the mid rib of which is nearly black and shining, bordered with roundish leaflets. It is not uncommon on rocks and old walls, where shaded from the sun. It is much employed by herbalists, as a pectoral astringent for coughs and consumption; but professional men do not hold it in much

estimation.

The finest of our native ferns is the royal flowering fern, (Osmunda regalis,) which is not very common; but the writer of this has met with it in great abundance in the Highlands of Scotland, and near Cork, in Ireland. It differs from the other ferns, just mentioned, in bearing the reproductive sporules on a tall spike, distinct from the leaves.

The second order contains plants with delicate, winged green, or brown leaves, very common on the bark of trees, and on moist ground, and rocks not exposed to the sun. A more conspicuous plant of this order is the green ground liverwort, (Marchantia polymorpha,) which spreads about on moist shady places its leather-like greenish leaves, and sends up its sporule bearing-stamens in the earlier part of summer. It is popularly used as a herb.

In the third order, we find the numerous tribe of mosses, whose economy was illustrated in detail in the Visitor for The most common of

all the mosses, perhaps, at least, the one most easily met with, is the wall-screw moss, (Tortula muralis,) which may be found in all parts of the three kingdoms, sending up its short delicate green sporule-bearing stem early in spring. It may also be found on the surface soil of flowerpots, which has been left some time without being stirred, and it frequently constitutes, along with some other mosses, a large portion of the green paint-like substance on stones, bricks, and composition, in houses and walls exposed to the trickling down of rain water, which carries the sporules of moss along in its course, and causes them to grow.

A moss of larger growth, and appearing not unlike plants of young fir trees, raised from seed in a nursery bed, is the common nurr moss (Polytrichum commune,) to be found abundantly occupying large patches on heaths and commons, and in woods and plantations.

The various species of feather moss (Hypnum) are those chiefly used by nurserymen in packing plants to send to a distance, though, when it can be had, the Dicranum squarrosum is much preferable.

It is supposed to be from the abundant growth of the yellowish white bog moss, (Sphagnum palustre,) and its subsequent decay, that the peat of the Scotch and Irish bogs has been produced. This, when pressed, to free it from moisture, and afterwards dried, becomes an excellent stuffing for cushions and sofas.

In the fourth order, the numerous species of sea weed are arranged, of which the common bladder wrack (Fucus vesiculosus) is a good example. It grows abundantly on all the seacoasts of this country, on stones and rocks within the influence of the tide, sea water being indispensable to its growth. The leaf is smooth, glossy, and of a dark olive-green colour, and having a mid rib tapering from the base. The male vesicles or bladders are hollow; the female vesicles filled with a jelly-like substance containing the reproductive sporules. The plant is used medicinally in scrofula, depending for its efficacy on the iodine which it contains. The oak-leaved wrack (F. quercifolius) is another very common species found in similar situations, and on the western and northern coasts of Scotland and Ireland is extensively burned in kilns to make kelp, or impure carbonate of soda for soap boilers and bleachers.

In the fifth order, is arranged the very peculiar looking productions called lichens, which give so much of the character of age and antiquity to trees, rocks, stones, and walls, by their various shades of grey, brown, black, and yellow. Several of the species are valuable, such as the dyers' lichen, or archill, (Rocella tinctoria,) a native of Britain and of the Canary Isles, from which our chief supply is procured. It is from one to two inches high, growing on rocks and stones in small branched tufts, not unlike some of the smaller corals. It forms a portion of what is called cudbear, but this is not confined to one species of lichen, several being gathered and sold under the same

name.

The Iceland moss (Cetraria islandicus) is another well-known example of this order, a native of the north of Europe, and found occasionally in Britain. The leaves are dry and leathery, of an irregular form, and waved and notched on the edges, which are hairy. A decoction of this is esteemed useful for consumptive patients.

In the last order, we have the funguses, of which the common edible mushroom (Agaricus campestris) is known to every body. The gills are of a pale pink colour, becoming dark chocolate brown by age. The botanical name has been recently changed from Agaricus to Valvaria. The researches of M. Dutrochet have tended much to illustrate the economy of the mushroom. According to him, what we commonly look upon to be the whole plant, namely, the bonnet and the stem, are nothing more than the fruit, the plant itself being wholly concealed underground, and consisting of the small delicate white substances which gardeners term the spawn, and which is well known to be indispensable for the growth of mushrooms when cultivated artificially. It ought to be known to all those who use mushrooms for the table, that the funguses, similar to them in form, which grow in woods, and are of bright colours, or have worts on the bonnets, are more or less poisonous and dangerous.

I love to rove at peep of dawn,

Along the meadow's spangled lawn,
Where, far and near, and all around,
The milk-white mushrooms deck the ground.
The rising sun, with glittering rays,
And warbling birds call forth my praise;
They put my grateful heart in tune
To sing, and I could just as soon
Number the dewdrops on the sod,
As count the mercies of my God.

our

THE LAST TIME.

THERE is something touching and interesting in the very phrase. When associating with a friend, or visiting a long familiar spot, or enjoying a pleasure, or even enduring a burden, if we could know that it was for the last time, our feelings would be influenced by the consideration, in a manner different from anything we had experienced on former occasions. This we do not in general know at the time; but when it afterwards comes to our knowledge that that time was the last, we recall every little circumstance, and every incidental expression, and invest each with a degree of interest unfelt before.

I well remember feeling thus, when I accompanied my kind uncle on his last visit to the place, where he had spent most of his youthful years, and received his education.

Although he had long since left it as a place of residence, he had maintained frequent intercourse with friends and family connexions, who still resided there, and had usually paid them an annual visit. But friend after friend died off. At each visit, the circle of his acquaintance was narrowed, and now as the family of relatives was about to remove to a distant place, my uncle's connexion with the old spot seemed severed, and he then visited it with the full impression that it was for the last time.

My uncle's sight was at this time rapidly failing; and though on recognizing a long familiar voice, or on hearing the announcement of a long endeared name, he warmly grasped the hand of his friend, and still accosted him with, "I am very glad to see you," there was reason to think, that hearing and memory, rather than sight, were pleasurably exercised by the presence of his friend.

"As it is my last visit," he would say, "I must not omit to call on any of

any, I hope some of you will be so good as to remind me. Let me see: who of my old schoolfellows yet remain? There is Henry Marsden; he and I were classmates; we left school at the same time, I to go to college, and he to the office of a solicitor. He was an ingenuous and a clever lad, and I believe has always maintained a high professional character for honour and integrity. I hope he has been mindful of religion; for after all that is the main concern. His wife was a very superior woman, amiable, talented, and pious. She was the only daughter of the celebrated Dr. Brewer, and on terms of intimate friendship with my sisters. I suppose," addressing himself to our host, "you can scarcely remember Dr. Brewer. He was in his zenith in the days of my youth."

"I believe, sir," replied Mr. Lambert, "Dr. Brewer left the world before I entered it; I have seen his tombstone in the churchyard. Mr. Marsden also is dead, I think within the last year: his eldest son, who succeeds him in his office of town clerk, occupies his house; another son is in the medical profession, and one is at college. The widow and daughters have removed to Lavender Cottage, where, I am sure, they will be very happy to see you."

"I shall make a point of visiting the family of my old friend; I hope the young people have grown up in the fear of God. We had some pleasant conversation last year; but, if I had known it was the last interview I should have with Henry Marsden, I think it would have been somewhat different from what it was. Oh, what continual admonitions have we to let our 'speech be alway with grace,' 'that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers.'

After a few moments of pensive silence, my uncle resumed his inquiries. "And good old Mrs. Wright, is she still living?"

"Yes," replied Mrs. Lambert, "I had the privilege of spending an hour with her last week. In the beginning of the summer, she was once or twice carried in a sedan chair to attend public worship; but she is now entirely confined to her chamber. Her mind, however, is as clear and lively as ever, and her conversation truly edifying. What an astonishing fund of Scripture

sire to see you once more, and spoke with peculiar delight of several chapters which you had read to him at different times, and which your good reading had greatly assisted him to understand and enjoy.'

Ah," said my uncle, with a somewhat mournful expression, "my days of reading the Bible are well nigh over. But," and his countenance brightened, and his voice gathered strength, "blessed be God, his word is still a treasury to me; and I doubt not, my Christian brother and myself shall still understand one another, and aid each other's recollections of past enjoyments, and meditations and anticipations of a meeting in that better world, where there will be no more dimness, either of sight or understanding-no more imperfection, no more sin."

In this manner, my venerated relative called up interesting reminiscences of by-gone days, and made remarks on character, calculated to leave salutary impressions on those who heard him. I had the privilege of accompanying him on most of his proposed visits, to several of which I have not particularly referred. He seemed anxious that no one should be forgotten; the friends and acquaintances of former days or their descendants; those who in a humble sphere had been partakers of his liberality, and for whom he took care that his death, should it precede their own, might not deprive them of succour they had long enjoyed. Schoolfellows who had known vicissitudes in life, servants past labour, the widows and orphans of those whom he had befriended, all had a share in his kind consideration and assistance, according to their several necessities.

The house where my grandfather dwelt, was visited with deep interest. The parties then occupying it were strangers; but they had learned to respect the family, and courteously accorded to its representative, the privilege of exploring the scenes of his boyhood. Imperfect as was his sight, he accurately led me to all the older trees in the garden, and described each particular spot with all the vivacity of youth. He told me anecdotes of the different branches of the family. He felt about the grotto, and pointed out to me which shells were placed there by each brother and sister; and where the initials of the family were carved in

some noble limes, inarched by old Anthony when he was a lad. The limes were then in blossom, and the bees humming round them. "Just the sound," said my uncle, "which used to delight me in my childhood; and they are come now to meet me on my last visit to the old spot: forgive an old man's vanity, as if the bees cared anything about me! But such is the selfconsequence of poor human nature. We fancy a thousand things done on purpose for our gratification, which would have been done just the same if we had never had a being, and will be done when the place that knows us shall know us no more. Well it is for us, so far as to call forth feelings of gratitude to the beneficent Creator, and feelings of delight in all the works of his hands, and feelings of benevolence and sympathy with every thing that has a being. Oh, it is sweet to love every thing-but sin!" He sat a few minutes in pensive silence, and then added, "He was a better man than I, who shed a tear over his university sins;'* and now revisiting the scenes of my childhood and youth, I have reason to shed many tears, both of penitence and gratitude. O Lord, "remember not the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions: according to thy mercy remember thou me for thy goodness' sake, O Lord," Psa. xxv. 7.

"Come, Samuel, we will now go to the old school. The urchins will be just issuing forth to the playground; old as I am, I still love to hear the merry sounds of gleesome childhood." In the playground, my uncle, with all the familiarity of one at home, seated himself beneath the wide-spreading elm, and gathered around him a group of lads, to whom he related some of his youthful feats, especially a daring leap from a branch of the elm to one of the yews in the churchyard adjoining; and then, when he had gained their willing attention about trifles, with benevolent adroitness, he directed it to matters of supreme importance; he pointed to the tombstones that covered the remains of some of the companions who joined in his youthful sports and studies. He spoke of the all-seeing Eye that was constantly observing their thoughts and words and actions; of the

Life of Philip Henry.