These latter are evidently antheridia. The larger spores germinate by division of the cells of the apex, from which archegonia are formed. Fig. 130 represents a leaf with its spore-case, which is also shown detached. Fig. 131 is a section of the spore-case showing the three chambers into which it is divided. The plant is rare in the south of England. The name is derived from two Greek words, Isos, equal, and etos, a year, in allusion to its leaves, which are persistent during the whole year. The remaining species is known as Pilularia globulifera, the Pillwort, or Pepper-grass. It grows on FIG. 132. the margins of ponds and lakes, and presents the appearance of fig. 132. It has a creeping stem, from which, at intervals, are given off the fibrous roots which fix it in the mud, and the small quilllike leaves. These leaves are at first rolled up in a circinate manner, like the fronds of ferns, and vary in length from an inch to four inches. They are hollow, bright green, and smooth. The spore-cases are attached by a short stalk to the stem, at the base of the leaves. They are about the size of a pepper-corn, from which fact the popular name has arisen; they are densely clothed with hairs, and, when ripe, split open into four valves, to the centre of which the spores and antheridia are attached. The lower part of the spore-case is devoted to the large single spores; the upper produces the smaller, numerous granules, which ultimately yield spermatozoids, which fertilise the larger spores. This spore-case is represented at fig. 133. FIG. 133. Pilularia is more frequent in the south of Britain than Isoëtes, but it requires careful searching amongst the sedges to discover it. Both these plants are easily cultivated, Isoëtes forming a suitable object for the bottom of an aquarium. They belong, as we have stated, to the order Marsileacea, one species of which, M. macropus, affords the fruit called Nardoo, which the Australian aborigines made up into a coarse kind of bread, and to which a melancholy interest attaches. When the exploring expedition of Messrs. Burke, Wills, and King had crossed the Australian continent from Melbourne to the Gulf of Carpentaria, they were reduced to sore straits on the return journey, finally perishing of starvation. This was their last resource, and Mr. King, who survived, brought some of the spores with him to Melbourne: there are specimens at Kew which were raised from these spores. And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath." HEMANS. EVERY one admires the beauties of the flower, but how few properly appreciate the glories of the foliage! Only at two short periods of the year do we usually deign to give them a word of admiration. In spring we all seem to sing the praises of Nature, as we behold the delicate fresh green tints of the bursting leaf-buds and the tiny leaflets. With them come the harbingers of summer, the bright flowers of spring, led off by the pure white of the "Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring, followed by the ever-welcome "Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, as Shelley sings; perhaps the most-valued flower of all that blow, for though it cheers us by its presence nearly all the year, we yet esteem its innocent beauty when we are surrounded by all the floral wealth of July and August. Then come the pale cups of the Wood Sorrel, and the wind-blown blooms of the "Delicate Anemone ! Flower that seems not born to die With its radiant purity, But to melt in air away, Mingling with the soft spring day." With these the pale sulphur of the Primrose and the rich yellow of its meadow-loving relative the Cowslip gradually lead on to the richer, warmer tints of the advancing year, through the Buttercups, the Violets, and Hyacinths. With the flowers the leaves also take on a warmer tint. The light tender green of the spring is toned down into the deeper tints of summer. Now we revel in a paradise of flowers-of every conceivable form and hue, and a luxuriance of foliage which we admire chiefly for the cool shade it affords. But when autumn appears on the scene, and with a touch turns the green leaves to the most glorious shades of crimson, brown, and yellow, we give them a different value, for the flowers are fading and we miss their glowing colours. "With ev'ry gust the leaves pour down And leave the bare unsightly stems; Ah! what a little time has flown Since those same leaves were budding gems. And now deft Nature's artist hand Has softly toned their bright green down,— Their chlorophyll has slowly tanned To rich warm hues of red and brown." Then, when Nature sends her servants the winds to whistle through the trees and strip the branches of their leafy wealth, we begrudge her even this slight return from the gifts she has bestowed so lavishly upon us, forgetting that we shall get them all back again a hundred-fold. For they but go back to her laboratory to be re-manufactured into leaf-bud and blossom, twig and branch again. Here they come, racing and dancing, and flying on the wings of the wind. Oh, what a rustle! strewing the paths and fields and lanes with their dead bodies. Dead? "And shall we say those leaves are dead, Last autumn's leaves, though buried low, Surely not dead, for their mission is not completed. And what, pray, is their mission? They are servants of Madam Nature, who is the Lady Bountiful. In her laboratory, which is the earth, she has a wonderful mill which we heard much of when we were children the mill which grinds old things into new. All the beautiful gifts she bestows on man after a while get shabby and the worse for wear, and then man throws them from him and tramples them under foot. Even these beautiful leaves which we call dead we shall soon get tired of, and vote them a nuisance. We shall sweep them up into a corner, and the wind, again distributing them, we shall tread on them as though they had never ministered to our pleasure. But Nature will be on the look-out, and will set some |