that is below the ground, is of a dark brown colour, and as soft and downy as velvet. When this is cut through, the section has a figure upon it, a little like a tree, and which is called King Charles in the oak. Other persons fancy it resembles a spread eagle, and the name Aquilina was given to it by Linnæus, the word aquila meaning an eagle.

The largest and handsomest of our English ferns is called the flowering fern,* not because it bears any flowers, but because its seeds are arranged in a cluster of spikes at the top of the frond, a little like a bunch of flowers. On the banks of Loch Fyne, in Scotland, it grows quite stiff and upright, and is often eight feet high.

But on the borders of Killarney it takes a very different character. It completely fringes the river between the lakes, and drooping gracefully over the stream, dips the ends of its fronds into the water.

When Sir Walter Scott visited Killarney, he was rowed about on the lakes by a boatman who took great delight in pointing out to him the grandeur of the scenery. But Sir Walter made no reply, nor uttered a single exclamation either

*Osmunda regalis.

of pleasure or surprise. At length he came to the spot where the flowering fern dips its fronds into the water, and charmed with its elegance and beauty, he cried out in a tone of admiration, "This is worth coming to see!"

The boatman felt rather offended at Sir Walter's enthusiasm, and would have liked him better had he bestowed his praises on the lakes and mountains.

Each fern has its own peculiar habit, and where one may choose to grow, another would not be able to exist. Thus, for instance, one likes the morning sun, while another prefers the shade of an over-hanging tree, or some retired nook in wood or grove, where the light can scarcely penetrate. One will choose the driest ground, or insert its roots into the crevices of a wall, and another will only live where it can have its fronds constantly wetted by the dropping of some little rill or cascade, that falls over a ledge of rock.

Of this latter kind is the maiden hair,* one of the rarest of our ferns. It is always found in moist caves, or on rocks near the sea, where it takes root among the stones. In the south Isles of Arran it is very abundant, and the

* Adiantum Capillis-Veneris.

inhabitants gather its fronds, and use them instead of tea. The seeds of the maiden hair, like many other ferns when cultivated in a glass case, will actually begin to grow into little plants before they have left the parent frond. When the frond is getting old, and its leaflets have fallen off, the stem is left quite bare, and has the appearance of a bunch of strong bristles.

Chapter the Tenth.

THE FERNS CONTINUED.

PERHAPS you have noticed how curiously the fronds of the ferns are twisted round and round when they first begin to appear, and how gradually they unfold as they spread themselves out into full leaf. Now these fronds spring from a woody stalk, which I dare say you think is the stem of the plant. But the true stem is buried under ground, or creeps along its surface, and the stalks you see are only branches. In hot countries, however, the true stem rises like the trunk of a tree, and bears at the top a beautiful crown of leaves.

These ferns are called tree ferns, and some of them grow to the height of sixty or seventy feet. The stem is the same thickness all the way down, and has neither true bark nor true wood, but consists of an outer rind, which is filled up with a soft pulp, that is sometimes eaten as food.

In New Zealand, the natives principally live

upon the root of a fern* that grows in every part of the Island, and serves them not only

as bread, but in times of scarcity is eaten as a meal by itself. The women first roast it, and then laying it on a stone, beat it with a piece of wood until it becomes as soft as dough. As it

*Polypodium medullare.