The notable exertions which vegetables occasionally make to obtain nutriment may be instanced by the following rude drawing of an ash,—a tree which, in consequence of the profusion of its seed, we find more often scattered in wild and singular places than any other not propagated by the agency of birds, or conveyed by the winds. This one had originally been rooted in the earth, upon the top of a wall, but nourishment being required beyond what was supplied by the precarious moisture of the scanty soil, its roots proceeded downwards, winding their way through the crevices of the stones into the earth beneath, and remained apparently incorporated with the masonry; the materials of this wall being wanted for an adjoining work, were so pulled out, as to leave the tree with all its roots detached, much as represented, with all its vegetative powers uninjured: the root B had stretched itself along the top of the wall, but how far it had extended in perfection, is uncertain, being broken away when I saw it first. The wood of the ash, when burned in a green state, will emit a fragrance like that which proceeds from the violet or mezerion, and this it will diffuse in particular states of the air to a considerable distance, a property that, I believe, is not observable in any other British wood: it is in the country only that we can be sensible of this, and it is particularly to be perceived in passing through a village when the cottagers are lighting their fires, or by a farm-house, when this wood, fresh cloven or newly lopped off, is burning;—as the wood dries, this sweet smell is in a great measure exhaled with the moisture, for in this state we are not sensible of any odor arising from it different from other woods. THE YEAR 1825.