A TRIP TO PENSHURST.

"HERE you are again," said Harry, "arrived at last, uncle. We thought you were never coming."

"We have only been waiting the whole of ten minutes," said Ellen, "but we like uncle's company so much that even ten minutes seemed a very long time."

"You are all very kind; and I can assure you that it was not at all pleasant to me, when sitting in the train a quarter of an hour ago, to feel that I was keeping my young friends awaiting. Let us be thankful, however, that we are permitted once more to meet in peace and safety."

"Yes," said aunt Mary, with a deep sigh (she might as well have

been first cousin to Mrs. Graveairs), "especially in these days of railway travelling."

"By road or by rail," said uncle Harry, "the same Providence is about our path, to protect and defend us."

"True," said aunt Mary; "but you know I don't like railway travelling; and as for talking of outof-the-way places, there will soon be none of them. Railways, in my opinion, have spoiled everything that was picturesque; and as for any beauty in railway travelling, what can you see?"

"I do not think railways have spoiled the picturesque. Much as I loved the old coaching days, I think that even now we meet with

scenes in a day's journey."

"Well, you do have variety, I admit," said aunt Mary; "for now you pass over one road, and under another; then along high embankments with steep descents on either side, which make you giddy to look down; then through deep cuttings which give you the headache when you look up so as to catch a glimpse of the sky. I can see nothing pleasant in all this, nor in being whirled through the midnight of a long tunnel, where the traveller who sits opposite is but dimly seen by the paler light in the roof of the carriage, and then rushing out again into the light of day to become almost dazzled by the brightness. Don't tell me of variety."

"Well," said Harry, "that is just what I like railways for. There is so much to be seen and heard.".

"Besides," said Ellen, "there are many places which we should not have seen had it not been for railroads passing through them."

"Quite true," said uncle Harry; "railways have brought to light many tracts of country and beautiful landscapes, with their special objects of interest, of which we might have known very little, if anything, beyond what we have read in history. I was never more sensible of this than when some twenty years ago, soon after the opening of the SouthEastern Railway, I alighted at the Penshurst Station-the birthplace of Sir Philip Sidney."

THE GARDEN HYACINTH.

"Then Penshurst must be an out-of-the-way place after all," said Harry, "although the railway does go through it."

"Why, Harry?" asked Ellen.

"Because if there had been many strangers there the orchis would have been picked."

"You are right, Harry," said his uncle. "I found the orchis was very plentiful in the meadows, so that the people who live there are familiar with it; had the place been the resort of strangers the beautiful

"It is, my boy. As I left the station I passed a board pointing "To Penshurst,' and soon found

it made its appearance."

"I should have very much enjoyed the walk, uncle," said Ellen. "I have no doubt of it," said he.

"As I went along, the beauty of the scene seemed to increase. I passed a solitary farmhouse covered with lichens. The road ran through a kind of plantation, where masses of rock were scattered about, and the path was one of primroses."

“Did you go into the park?" asked Ellen.

“Oh yes; and a beautiful place it is. There I saw 'Sidney's Tree;' it was planted on the occasion of his birth, and many facts which I had read in history were brought to mind." "What kind of place is Penshurst itself?" asked Harry.

255

"It is like an out-of-the-way country village, very quiet. As you enter it you pass under the dark spreading branches of a lofty pine. But the entrance to the churchyard is even more curious-it is a square opening underneath and beneath some antique houses.

"The church is a fine old building, the chancel of which belongs to the Sidney family, several of whose monuments it contains.

"I will tell you something about the house, and of some of those who lived there, to-morrow."

A PLAIN AND EASY ACCOUNT OF BRITISH FUNGI. By M. C. Cooke. Price 6s.

RUST, SMUT, MILDEW, AND MOULD. An Introduction to the Study of Microscopic Fungi. Price 6s. By M. C. Cooke.

(London: R. Hardwicke.) Mr. Bucklersbury has drawn at tention to the above volumes, but we feel that they claim an editorial recognition, however brief. They are almost, if not quite, the only cheap treatises on fungi. This is saying much in their favour; but they combine interest and accuracy with lowness of price, and are handsomely illustrated with coloured . figures of the various kinds of fungoid plants.

In the former work Mr. Cooke ably describes the different sorts of edible and poisonous "mushrooms," with puff-balls, boleti, and truffles; and shows how much of practica value, as well as interest, belongs to this despised race of plants. The

other work is devoted to attractive descriptions, verbal and pictorial, of that section of the British microscopic fungi which includes the pretty "cluster cups," the "smuts" and "rusts" of our corn plants, and the various forms of "mould" and "mildew." The volume is really a handbook of no little value, and cannot fail to please the intelligent reader. We cordially recommend both works to our scientific young friends, and to those who desire to acquaint themselves more fully with the Creator's wondrous works.

BEAUTIES AND WONDERS OF VEGETABLE LIFE. Price 3s. 6d.

(Religious Tract Society.)

To those who wish to become acquainted with the wonders of forest and field, garden and orchard, this volume will prove a pleasant companion. It is amply illustrated and handsomely bound, and the interior is full of interesting information, carefully compiled and judiciously arranged.

M

99B, Cheapside, London,

November 1, 1866. Y DEAR FRED, -The summer is ended, and the autumn also. We have had much rain and little sunshine, and outdoor collectors have met with but scanty encouragement or success. Of course, under such conditions you could not hope to record very brilliant results in your first campaign, and I think you have done much better than was anticipated. Things have looked gloomy enough in this great city. The

almost incessant showers, the depressed state of trade, and the dark mysterious disease which has been brooding over us and still lingers in our streets-all have combined to impart an air of sadness to that which is generally the most joyous season of the year. Well, the sunshine and the shadow are the gifts of the same Hand, and we learn to prize the one more highly when we have felt the presence of the other. I have no difficulty in believing that your fields look as dreary as our streets, and very much more bare. The flowering plants have completed the circle of bud, blossom, and fruit, and rest from their silent yet wondrous activities. Our annuals and bulbous plants have died down to the earth, and most of our trees and shrubs show little evidences of life in their leafless branches stretching brown and bare in the wintry blasts. But no, "they are not dead, but only sleeping," and the first sun of spring will waken them from their brief and needful slumbers. Some trees, as beeches and pollard oaks,

ever

do not lose their foliage until the succeeding year, and in our greens" there is of course a constant succession of leaves. You will not imagine that in these no change of leaf takes place.

If frosts do not prevail, the common polypody-a fern which every one knows - may yet meet your eye as you walk along, but other kinds you will search for in vain. Chickweed and groundsel, the red dead-nettle, and the "daisy with golden eye," remain to cheer us as in the brighter months of the year; reminding us of a truth often realized in higher circles, that the most faithful friends are not always to be found among the fairest or the most pretentious.

But the berries of the holly, the arum ("lords and ladies," the children call it), the dog-rose, the privet, and the ivy, present an assemblage of cheerful examples to prove that the time of fruiting is not entirely past. If, however, you suppose that all the tribes of the vegetable world are sinking into a state of inactivity, prepare yourself for an agreeable disappointment. The FLOWERLESS PLANTS are now in perfection. The excessive moisture of the past season must bring you, I am persuaded, a considerable amount of fungi, both ordinary capped ones and microscopic parasites.

You remember my having mentioned to you the two excellent little volumes by Mr. M. C. Cooke, "Our British Fungi" and "Microscopic Fungi," * either of which will introduce you to a new world of *See preceding page.-ED.