Were I attempting here a history or description of forest trees, it would be easy to fill pages with the fascinating theme; but I am sure those who love and appreciate well the beauty and variety of interest connected with even one tree, will also be those who will most thoroughly enjoy the grandeur of woodland scenery, and none such, I trust, will return to their own limited grounds without additional admiration and liking for their own trees.

Although the growth of lichens and mosses on trees may be considered a blemish in the eyes of some persons, there is no doubt these plants add to their beauty, especially in winter, from the colouring they impart; and it is curious to observe, that while some of those grow indifferently on tree or stone, others attach themselves almost exclusively to certain species.

"An oak grew near. . . .

.....its fretted roots

Emboss'd the bank, and on their ruffled bark

Grew plants which love the moisture and the shade -

Short ferns, and longer leaves of wrinkled green."

Southey, it is true, is here referring to wilder woodlands than the villa-grounds in which I am desirous of seeing trees cherished; and the plants alluded to are probably the pretty little oak fern {Polypodium dryopteris) found among the damp mosses at the root of oak-trees, and the broader-leaved and less exclusive hart's tongue {Scolo-pendrium vulgare.) As regards the beauty derived from lichens and mosses, I am glad to be able to strengthen my assertion, by the following remarks of Gilpin, in his delightful work on Forest Scenery. "The variety of mosses - the green which tinges the trunk of the beech; the brimstone-coloured, and black, which stain the oak; as the yellow, which is frequently found on the elm and ash, are among the most beautiful of those tints which embellish the bark of trees.

"I have often stood with admiration before an old forest oak, examining the various tints which have enriched its furrowed stem. The genuine bark of an oak is of an ash colour, though it is difficult to distinguish any part of it from the mosses that overspread it; for no oak, I suppose, was ever without a greater or a less proportion of these picturesque appendages. The lower parts about the roots are often possessed by that green, velvet moss, which, in a still greater degree, commonly occupies the bole of the beech; though the beauty and brilliancy of it lose much when in decay. As the trunk rises, you see the brimstone-colour taking possession in patches. Of this there are two principal kinds, - a smooth sort, which spreads like a scurf over the bark; and a rougher sort, which hangs in little rich knots and fringes. I call it a brimstone-hue, by way of general distinction, but it sometimes inclines to an olive, and sometimes to a light green. Intermixed with these mosses, you often find a species perfectly white. Before I was acquainted with it, 1 have sometimes thought the tree whitewashed. Here and there a touch of it gives a lustre to the trunk, and has its effect; yet, on the whole, it is a nuisance; for as it generally begins to thrive when the other mosses begin to wither, (as if the decaying bark were its proper nutriment,) it is rarely accompanied with any of the more beautiful species of its kind; and, when thus unsupported, it always disgusts. This white moss, by the way, is esteemed a certain mark of age; and when it prevails in any degree, is a clear indication that the vigour of the tree is declining. We find also another species of moss, of a dark-brown colour, inclining nearly to black; another of an ashy colour; and another of a dingy-yellow. We may observe, also, touches of red; and sometimes, but rarely, a bright-yellow, which is like a gleam of sunshine; and in many trees you will see one species growing upon another; the knotted brimstone-coloured fringe clinging to a lighter species, or the black softening into red. Strictly speaking, many of these excrescences, which I have mentioned under the general name of mosses, should be distinguished by other names. All those particularly which cling close to the bark of trees, and have a leprous, scabby appearance, are classed, I believe, by botanists, under the name of lichens: others are called liverworts. But all these excrescences, under whatever name distinguished, add a great richness to trees; and when they are blended harmoniously, as is generally the case, the 'rough and furrowed trunk of an old oak, adorned with these pleasing appendages, is an object which will long detain the picturesque eye."

Besides the lichens which shew a marked preference for certain kinds of trees, many fungi prefer the shade of particular trees to grow under, or attach themselves to their wood when dead, and in some instances add great beauty to the fallen trunks and roots. I remember, in particular, one (Agaricus quercinus) which grew over every part of an oak which had been felled and cut up into blocks; these were used as rustic tables in the garden, and the root part was placed in the fernary. Two or three years afterwards, every one of these pieces was covered by a crop of this curious and beautiful fungus, which grows in fan-shaped masses, each barred by variously coloured and shaded stripes. These fans are at first soft and leathery in texture, and the colour often bright; bands of velvety-purple and green, brown and orange, running toward their edges; they harden with age, and the colours become darker, and run more into the shades of grays and browns, losing partly their velvety look on the surface. I thought at first that this fungus might be peculiar to the oak, but I have seen it since on felled trunks of elms and beeches.*

And now that we have brought our favourites to death, does their interest cease? By no means; for even out of many of our common trees, how many useful and ornamental articles may be made, and how many a cheerful winter evening be brightened by their blaze! The wood of the beech and ash is the best for fuel, the latter burning with.