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as they are called, burst open when ripe, and thence issues the powdery matter, the grains of which the botanist terms sporules, and which are analogous to the seeds of the flowering plants. These brown masses, covering as they sometimes do the whole of the back of the frond, are often so heavy, that if the fern had no support from the wall in which it grows, they would bow it to the earth by weight.

Besides these peculiarities, the ferns have another very obvious one. Their fronds, previous to expansion, are usually rolled up in the form of a scroll,—an appearance which may be seen in the common bracken, or brake, in which the whitish green shoots seem as if they were hiding from the light of day, as they roll inwards upon their stem; but which gradually open and present a broad, bright green, glossy surface to the sunbeam.

But the ferns of our native island, beautiful as they are, yet must yield in size and symmetry to the arborescent ferns of tropical climates. There they rival the graceful palm-tree, and give a characteristic vegetation to the regions in which they flourish. Their foliage and stems are totally distinct from those of the trees and flowers, and preserving exactly the appearance of the cryptogamous order, they cast their light shadows to the ground from a summit of thirtyfive or forty feet, and occasionally even twice that height, and are at once recognised as ferns by any one at all conversant with the tribe as they appear in our own country. Tree ferns are found south of the tropics, as far even as to the southern coast of Van Diemen's Land, and at Dusky Bay, in New Zealand; yet nowhere are they to be seen above the northern tropic. The beautiful tree fern, called Cyathea, is the highest of all the fern tribe. One species of this is a lofty tree in the Isle of Bourbon, and in the West Indies, where tree ferns are very abundant, as well as in some other tropical lands. In those regions of equinoctial America, where vegetation in general is remarkably magnificent, it often grows beside the tall cabbage-palm, with its feathery and sharply -pointed leaves. Humboldt, who, with M. Bonpland, discovered in the thick mountain forests of these regions several species of arborescent ferns unknown to earlier botanists, thus remarks on them: "We observed that the ferns in general are much more

rare than the palm-trees. Nature has confined them to temperate, moist, and shady places. They shun the direct rays of the sun; and while the Pumos, the Corypha of the steppes, and the other palms of America, flourish in the naked and burning plains, these ferns, with arborescent trunks, which at a distance look like palm-trees, preserve the character and habits of cryptogamous plants. They love solitary places, little light, a moist temperature, and stagnant air. If they sometimes descend towards the coast, it is only under cover of a thick shade. The old trunks of the Cyathea and the Meniscium are covered with a carbonaceous powder, which, probably deprived of hydrogen, has a metallic lustre." This writer adds that these are the only plants which present us with this phenomenon, for the mass of those gigantic trees of these primæval forests, with their stout woody trunks are, in spite of the heat of the climate, and the intensity of the light, less burned under the tropics than in the temperate zones. The trunk of ferns is a hollow cylinder, containing a loose cellular substance, and the coat is a hard, cellular, fibrous rind, composed of the united bases of the leaves. Humboldt remarks that a plant of this structure is more easily burned by the action of the oxygen of the atmosphere, than trunks formed like those of our oaks, of a succession of substances regularly disposed, because the former decays from the circumference to the centre, and is thus deprived of the organs by which its elaborated juices descend toward the roots. This naturalist brought into Europe some of the powder of metallic lustre, which he collected from some very old trunks of the tree ferns. Some of the gigantic fronds of the tree ferns have been brought to England, but they seldom reach this country in an entire state.

Tree ferns have been hitherto little cultivated, as they offer little which can benefit man in the arts or domestic purposes of life. One species of Cyathea, however, which abounds in the forests of New Zealand, produces a starchy substance, which the natives use for food, and term marnaga. Two kinds of tree fern only are said to grow in the forests of this country, yet New Zealand might, from the abundance of the herbaceous species, be termed the Isle of Ferns. Polack, in his work on that country, describes the difficulty of travelling over plains, when the fern, growing to a great

height, was matted in interminable confusion, so as to render it impossible for any one to get through it without cutting the hands, face, and feet with its wiry fibres and sharp angular branches: and thus the natives who acted as pioneers to the party, were greatly distressed by it. This writer adds that the fern, or, as the natives call it, the rohi, flourishes in an infinity of varieties, and attaining in some places, the height of twelve feet, renders some of the plains and acclivities quite impassable. The women are much engaged in pounding and preparing fern root for food, which, having been first baked or roasted on the embers of a fire, is beaten till it is fit for eating. "A European," says our traveller, "has at first little taste for this food; but custom reconciles to its use, perhaps for the same reason that bread and water seldom satiate us, because possessing little taste." Some diseases are prevalent among the natives, which our author considers to be the result of an excessive use of this food. The roots are so deep in the earth that they cannot be extracted by the plough, and several seasons are required to work the land, previously to the entire extirpation of this indigenous edible. The fronds of the fern are used for thatching the New Zealand huts.

But we need not travel far on the lands of our own island, to seek some of the tribe of plants which we are just now considering. Let us go, as the poet did "To the meadows all gemm'd with the primrose

and gowan,

And the ferny braes fringed with the hazel and When the foxgloves look out from the osiers

rowan,

dank,

And the wild thyme and violet breathe from the bank,

And green fairy nooks 'mid the landscape are seen,

Half hid by the grey rocks that over them lean." And on such a spot we shall be sure to find our most common fern-a fern indeed so common, that the very mention of the tribe at once brings this plant to the memory. The common brake, or bracken, with its bright green branches, brown at the edge, and its long blackish stem, is known to every one at all conversant with plants. If we go to the north of England, we find its fronds, sometimes a yard in length, bound down on the cottage thatch, or serving as litter for the horses. If we come away to the south, and visit the bright fruit orchards of Kent, when rich with their ruddy cherries, we see it lying in heaps beneath the trees,

ready to be laid over the fruit in the baskets, which is to be sent to the London market for sale. The ashes which it produces when burned, yield a quantity of alkali, which is made into balls, and used for soap, and sold under the name of ashballs; and ovens are heated with the bracken, which is said to yield an intense heat.

Wander into any of the parks in which the bounding deer are leaping over the greensward, and we shall see them seeking its boughs for their place of repose when they choose to rest awhile from their play. And the game, when started from the wood or moorland, rise from among its plentiful covert. The poet sings of the waving, feathery brake,—and its Latin name, Pteris, significant of a plume, though now confined to that particular genus, was among the ancients the common name for all ferns. This plant, too, appears to have been the fearn especially of our Anglo-Saxon ancestors, and its abundance probably suggested the names of some English towns and villages, as, Farnham, (Fearnham,) Farnhurst, Farnborough, Farnworth, and Farningham.

The stalk of the brake is stout and strong, and the angles on its surface have cut, by their thin, sharp edges, the hand of many an unguarded gatherer. Children often pull them, that they may cut the stalk across, for a black mark is seen in the interior cellular substance, contrasted conspicuously with the white portion. The ancients fancied that it resembled an eagle with outspread wings; hence they distinguished this species by the name it still bears, Pteris aquilina. Later observers imagined that they saw the letters R C, which were said to signify the Royal Charles, who acquired a melancholy interest from his misfortunes.

Not only is the common brake indigenous to almost all parts of the United Kingdom, but its geographical range is very extensive. Not a list of native plants furnished by a botanist of any part of Europe but enumerates the brake among them. Asia and Africa, too, have the wild bracken, and North and South America have more than one of the species of this fern. The common brake is the only British kind. In the Canary Isles, where it is abundant, it is indeed a useful plant; for though the natives have crops of rye, barley, and potatoes, yet these do not furnish nearly enough food for their consumption: and in Palma, one of these islands, the poor people are fain to con

tent themselves chiefly with the roots of the fern. It is powdered, and either used with or without the admixture of flour. The black bread which is made of it is said by Von Buch to furnish the principal article of food for two-thirds of the people. Baron Humboldt states that in Palma and Gomera, this powder when mixed with barley meal and boiled, is called gofio, and justly remarks that the use of so homely an element is a proof of the extreme penury of the poorer inhabitants of the Canary Islands. He adds that nowhere in the temperate regions did he see such an abundance of this and some other of our common ferns, as on the mountains of Teneriffe.

The bitter and astringent stem of the brake is occasionally used medicinally, and was employed by the ancients in making diet drink. These stems have also been used in tanning and dressing red and chamois leather, and they have been sometimes substituted for hops. But the time has passed away when the mother made for her sickly child the green bed of bracken, and laid him down upon it, that his weak limbs might regain the strength and straightness which they had lost from want of care or other causes, though in Haller's time this was a common remedy.

A very handsome British fern, which continues through the winter, and looks green and beautiful on the old tower or ruined wall, is the Hart's Tongue. The young fronds of this are to be seen in April, both on ruins and in shady woods, and it is in perfection in September. Though not quite so frequent as the brake, yet it is by no means a rare plant. Its form is unlike most of our British ferns, for it has long, narrow, bright green leaves, or fronds, uncut at their edges. It would, however, be easily known as a fern, by its thin, crisp, brittle frond, devoid of succulence. And it presents the common character of masses of brown capsules at the back of the frond. These are arranged in a row at each side of the leaf, slanting inwards towards the middle rib or vein, which is a continuation of the leaf-stalk. This fern is commonly about a foot long; but professor Hooker mentions having gathered this handsome plant with fronds more than two feet long in the moat at Kenilworth Castle. There are three or four varieties of the fern, and some writers consider them as distinct species, but to the ordinary observer they are much alike. The Hart's

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Tongue has an old renown for curing wounds when made into an ointment. Like all the ferns, its properties are astringent.

But no fern has had a repute as a remedial agent equal to that which was in old times given to the most magnificent of our native ferns. The tall Osmunda, or flowering fern, throwing upwards its panicles of brown masses of inflorescence, looks almost like a beautiful shrub, and is found in many moist bogs or shady valleys of our island. In the north-west of Scotland and the south of Ireland it is very common. Its usual height is three or four feet; but a handsome tuft, growing on the banks of the Clyde, was found by a botanist growing to the height of eleven and a half feet. In England, though not so frequent as the ferns hitherto noticed, yet it is rather a local than a rare plant, being unknown in some districts, but common in others. The panicle of brown masses of capsules, which is commonly called the flower, rise from the margins of the fronds, and gradually form themselves into this loose and branched mass, which is in perfection during the months of July and August. The name of Osmunda is thought to be of northern origin, and to have been derived from Osmunder, which was one of the appellations of Thor, and which it received because of some wondrous properties which it was supposed to possess. The Anglo-Saxon word "mund" is significant of force or power, and therefore aptly applied to a plant which was deemed so efficacious a remedy in dis

ease.

At the same season in which the flowering fern rises in graceful beauty in the copsewood, the long feathering plumes of the graceful lady-fern are bowing before the passing winds of summer. This is one of the many species of the shieldfern; and another of this genus, called the male-fern, is to be found too in shady places, where the root, composed of many matted fibres, forms a turfish head as large as the finger. Some very pretty species of shield-ferns are indigenous to Britain; but the genus is chiefly remarkable, as furnishing that very singular plant called the Scythian or Tartarian lamb, which, however, has by some botanists been placed in another genus. This vegetable curiosity received its familiar name on account of the resemblance which its brown hairy, or rather silky rootstalk has to an animal, but it is

more like a little reddish brown dog, lying down, than a lamb. In earlier times, when marvels, either in the vegetable or animal kingdom, seemed to be perpetuated with diligence, rather than investigated with carefulness, men delighted in the belief of a vegetable lamb, and a barnacled goose, which latter was said to grow out of a shell-fish. A number of fables were then current respecting this plant, which received confirmation from the actual fact that the colour of its juice is a rich sanguine tint, very similar to animal blood, and which becomes thickened on exposure to the air. Struys, an old traveller, gives an account of this production, which though not correct in some of its minor details, yet is so in the main. "On the western side of the Volga," says this writer, "there is an elevated salt plain of vast extent, but wholly uncultivated and uninhabited. On this plain, which furnishes all the neighbouring countries with salt, grows the boranez, or bornitsch. This wonderful plant has the shape and appearance of a lamb, with feet, head, and tail distinctly formed. Boranez, in the language, of Muscovy, signifies a little lamb," and a similar name is given to this plant. Its skin is covered with very white down, as soft as silk. The Tartars and Muscovites esteem it highly, and preserve it with great care in their houses, where I have seen many such lambs. The sailor who gave me one of these precious plants, found it in a wood, and I had its skin made into an under waistcoat."

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The traveller adds, that those acquainted with these plants told him that the lamb grows upon a stalk about three feet high,

and that it turned round and bent to

wards the herbage which serves for its food, and that it dies when the grass fails. The imagination of the rude tribe in whose lands this plant vegetates, would be active enough to lead them to fancy

the former of these statements, and the latter is likely enough to be true, as the withering of the grass might be at the same season as that in which the fern would die. Dr. Darwin alludes to the notion that the lamb fed on the plants around it. Thus he says of it:

"Crops the gray coral moss and hoary thyme, Or laps with rosy tongue the melting rime; Eyes with much tenderness her distant dam, And seems to bleat-a vegetable lamb."

Kaempfer says that the boranez is a kind of sheep, common on the borders of

the Caspian Sea. These Tartarian lambs are considered to possess medicinal virtues, and are on this account brought in a fresh state to the markets at Macao for sale, and dried specimens have reached England. It is sold in the markets in India, under the name of golden moss, and used for stopping hæmorrhages. There is no doubt that the plant actually bears some resemblance to the animal from which it receives its familiar name.

A. P.

RUINS OF PINARA AND XANTHUS.

THE port of Makri, the western point of the Lycian coast, stands on the site of ancient Termessus, the ruins of which have been described by several travellers. At a few miles distance, and not far from the coast, is the village which stands near the site of Pinara, the ruins of which are thus described by Lieut. Spratt and Dr. Forbes.

The next day was devoted to visiting the ruins of Pinara. Our expectations wonderful city, by the account of it which had been greatly raised respecting this had told us that it was the finest of all we had received from Mr. Hoskyn, who those in the valley of the Xanthus; and the little sketch given by its discoverer had also excited our curosity; but the reality far exceeded both the report and the picture. At about a quarter of an hour's walk from the village, we suddenly came upon a magnificent view of the ancient city, A stupendous tower of rock, faced by a seated in a rocky recess of Mount Cragus. perpendicular precipice, perforated with a thousand tombs, and crowned by ruined fortifications, rose out of a deep ravine, which was thronged with ruins and sarcophagi, and intersected by ridges bearing the more important edifices. Dark precipitous mountains, of the grandest outlines, overhung the whole. After gazing with astonishment at this wondrous scene, we plunged among the maze of ruins, making a hurried ramble through them, so as to become acquainted with the localities of the site, intending to pay future visits for the purpose of more minute exploration. We first visited a fine theatre, excavated in the side of a woody hill fronting the city. The Lycian theatres are invariably so placed as to command a grand prospect, or when by the sea-side, a broad expanse of ocean.. For a scene of rocky magnificence, none

of them could vie with the theatre of Pinara. Opposite the theatre are the remains of a building of much later times, with Ionic columns, some of which are double, and have the fluting grooved in a coating of cement. Close by are several very fine arch-lidded tombs, with Lycian inscriptions. Above is a lower Acropolis, a long ridge of buildings, many of them of Cyclopæan architecture. Among them is a small theatre, or odeum, and a gigantic portal, shattered apparently by an earthquake. We then ascended to the base of the rock of the greater Acropolis, finding on our way a remarkable group of sarcophagi. They are arranged so as to form a square round an enormous central sarcophagus, with a pedestal-formed summit. This sarcopha gus was the largest we met with in Lycia. Its interior is remarkable, the sides being surrounded by a projecting ledge or shelf. The tombs of the square bear no inscriptions, but are peculiarly ornamented; the cement which covers their sides being scored so as to represent the appearance of a regularly-built stone wall, exactly as we sometimes see on plastered houses at home. The stone at Pinara, though hard and durable, being a conglomerate, is not favourable for inscriptions; and the ancient inhabitants seem to have been in the habit of coating it with a fine mortar, or cement, and on that carving the letters. We ascended the acropolis rock by the only pass, a steep and difficult path cut on its side. On its level but sloping summit, we found the remains of many fortifications and cisterns, not, however, of the most ancient architecture. Such parts of the margin as were in any way accessible, were strongly defended by walls. On the highest part of the summit is an isolated fortification, or stronghold, furnished with tanks, and surrounded by a ditch. The view from this is very grand, whether upward among the gloomy gorges of Anticragus, or forward over the fertile plains of the Xanthus, and the snowy ridges of Mässicytus. The tombs which perforate the perpendicular face of this gigantic rock, are oblong holes, occasionally with a semicircular top. They are most irregularly arranged, but occasionally form perpendicular rows. There are no traces of panels or doors to their entrances. They must have been excavated by workmen suspended from the summit. They are now inaccessible, and are the dwellingplaces of eagles.

Descending from the rock, and passing the quadrangle of tombs before mentioned, we came to the remains of an early Christian church, at the head of a deep, dark, and narrow ravine, walled by the precipitous rocks of the lower Acropolis, and filled with oleanders and chaste-trees. In this gloomy depth are many very perfect and beautiful rock tombs, hewn in imitation of wooden buildings, and bearing on their ledges carved and painted Lycian inscriptions. On the front of the same ridge of rock, in that part facing the valley, are still larger and finer rock tombs, some of which Uruk families had adopted as their winter habitations. Some of these are temple tombs, with sculptured pediments; and on one are the curious repre-sentations of the walls and buildings of an ancient city, figured by Fellowes. This tomb is now much injured by the fires lighted in its interior by the Uruks.

We returned to our village from the city of king Pandarus, greatly delighted with our first visit, and convinced that we had seen but a fraction of its wonders. The site is known to be Pinara, from inscriptions, from its situation exactly agreeing with the accounts given by ancient geographers, and from the ancient name being retained, with the alteration of a letter, in the name of the modern village.

The site of Xanthus, though beautiful, is not imposing. The hill on which it stands rises abruptly from a level plain, in some places marshy and alluvial. The rapid torrent of the river rushes along the base of the steep precipice of a lower Acropolis, at the back of which are the theatre, and several of the more remarkable monuments, especially the square columnar tomb which bore the bas-reliefs descriptive of the story of the daughters of Pandarus, now in the British Museum, and that on which is the longest Lycian inscription known. Above them rises a second rocky eminence, the upper Acropolis, the summit of which is mostly occupied by the ruins of an early Christian monastery. On the south-western slope of the city are several remarkable sarcophagi and other tombs, including the tomb of Payara, figured in the frontispiece to Fellowes' first tour. Elevated on platforms of rock, immediately above the plain, stood a group of temples, of which the friezes and statues, now in the British Museum, were the principal or

naments.

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