The best methods of observing germination, the production of zoospores, &c., have been detailed already. Thus do we arrive at the close of the task which we had set ourselves to perform. This fragment of a history of microscopic fungi goes forth to plead for students, and prepare the path for somewhat more complete. Is it not a shame that more than two thousand species of plants (never mind how minute, how insignificant) should be known to exist, and constitute a flora, in a nation amongst the foremost in civilization, and yet be without a complete record? It is nevertheless true that hundreds of minute organisms, exquisite in form, marvellous in structure, mysterious in development, injurious to some, linked with the existence of all, are known to flourish in Britain without a history or description, in the language of, or produced in, the country they inhabit. It is also true that the descriptions, by which they should be known, of hundreds of the rest lie buried in a floating literature whence the youthful and ardent student needs, not only youth and ardour, but leisure and perseverance unlimited to unearth them. This, however, by the way; we may be too great dotards on our native land, and foolish in our desire to see her in advance, and not in the rear in scientific attainments, pursuits, and productions of other and, perhaps, less favoured nations. Already we fear that some of our readers will have thought our story of rust, brand, and mildew interminable, and looked anxiously for the close. On the other hand, we would flatter ourselves into the belief that some have made a new acquaintance with these minute and mysterious forms, and would fain know more. The groups of fungi which we have endeavoured to illustrate have, with but few exceptions, one feature in common, _i.e._, that they are parasitic on living plants. These constitute but a small portion of the microscopical species found in this country. To the elegant forms of mould which inhabit decaying vegetable substances no allusion has been made. These constitute a fairy flora of forests and gardens with features as varied, and fruits as multiform, as those of the trees and flowers of the earth. The numerous, and often marvellous, phases of low life developed upon dead leaves and rotten sticks, would in description occupy a far greater space than we have devoted to our subject. Yet, for all these, we have not spared so much as a passing word. The treasures still left unopened are far richer than even those we have revealed. The gates of another world have been thrown open, but we have scarcely passed the threshold. A minutely and elaborately illuminated page of the book of Nature has been turned, and we have only perused a single line. We might traverse the primeval forests of the new world, and explore the unknown regions of the old, and not encounter so much to excite our admiration, or cause our wonder, as lies about our feet at home; marvels which we tread beneath our feet,