whole of the windward side, then in full foliage, became perfectly brown and seared, and the leaves shortly afterwards parted from their sprays and left them bare, while the other and sheltered side of the trees preserved its green foliage very slightly influenced by the spray that burned up the other. No period of the leafy season is exempt from these pernicious effects, more or less, if the wind be sufficiently violent and blowing from the water. Portions of the country distant from the shores often seem more influenced by these salt sprays than others more near, the wind lifting up the saline moisture, bearing it aloft to remote parts, and dropping it as it travels over the land or meets with impediments. Our apples in some years are more inclined to become spotted than in others, from causes not quite obvious, as moist summers do not occasion it more decidedly than dry. Particular sorts are more subject to these dark markings than others. The russet, though a rough-coated fruit, seems exempt from spots; whereas some of the smooth-rinded ones, especially the pearmain, are invariably disfigured with them. These marks appear to be an æcidium, which we frequently find to be perfectly matured, the centre occupied with minute, powdery capsules, having burst through their epidermis, or covering, which hangs in fragments round the margin. This æcidium[73] apparently derives its nutriment from the apple; for immediately round the verge of the spot the skin becomes wrinkled in consequence of the juices being drawn off by the fungus. In most cases the presence of plants of this nature is symptomatic of decay; but in this instance we find an exception to a pretty general effect, for the decay of the apple does not always commence at the spot, which does not even apparently contribute to it—for the whole fruit will shrivel up in time by the escape of its juices, without any decay by mortification. Though we are not able always to ascertain the purposes of nature, yet this little cryptogamous plant affords a strong example of her universal tendency to produce, and every vegetable substance seems to afford a soil for her productions. We have even an agaric, with a bulbous root and downy pileus,[72] that will spring from the smooth summit of another (agaricus caseus), which has a uniform footstalk, though not of common occurrence. Thus a plant, that itself arises from decay, is found to constitute a soil for another; and the termination of this chain of efficiency is hidden from us. [Illustration: _Agaricus Surrectus._ ]