leaves, the fruit, the stem, or the root, though the flowers may be scarcely distinguishable. Since our first landing in Marocco, buttercups had met us in all directions; but they nearly all belonged to one variable species, _R. chærophyllos_, widely spread round the warmer shores of the Mediterranean. In shady places we had a few times gathered another North African species, _R. macrophyllus_, and on this mountain we found a few specimens, already past flower, of _R. spicatus_; but of all the common species of Britain and Middle Europe, not one had been seen, unless we count the ubiquitous white-flowered species of our ditches, _R. aquatilis_. From the time we first got a clear view of our mountain we had fixed on a range of beetling crags, not far below the summit, which promised to afford an excellent habitat for rare plants. The promise was kept, for we had scarcely approached their base when with joyful cries we saluted one of the chief prizes of our excursion. From clefts on the face of the rock hung great leafy tufts, quite a yard in diameter, supported on stems as thick as a man’s arm. The flowering branches produced an abundance of yellow flowers, then just expanding and only partly opened. We should have set it down as a new and very luxuriant species of wild cabbage, but that we happened to know that the fruit is entirely different, so much so as to constitute a very distinct genus of _Cruciferæ_. Mr. Webb, who probably gathered the plant at this very spot, described and figured it, in the ‘Annales des Sciences Naturelles,’ under the name _Hemicrambe fruticulosa_; but the original specimen seems to have been lost or mislaid, and no one had since laid eyes upon the living plant. The same rocks produced abundantly the beautiful _Iberis gibraltarica_, besides many fine plants not yet in flower, amongst which we recognised the rare Spanish centaurea, _C. Clementei_.