ve disappeared within that time.
The beautiful Linnaea is still found annually, but flowers no more; as is also the case, in all but one distant locality, with the once abundant Rhododendron.
Nothing in Nature has for me a more fascinating interest than these secret movements of vegetation,—the sweet, blind instinct with which flowers cling to old domains until absolutely compelled to forsake them.
How touching is the fact, now well known, that salt-water plants still flower beside the Great Lakes, yet dreaming of the time when those waters were briny as the sea!
Nothing in the demonstrations of Geology seem grander than the light lately thrown by Professor Gray, from the analogies between the flora of Japan and of North America, upon the successive epochs of heat which led the wandering flowers along the Arctic lands, and of cold which isolated them once more.
Yet doubtless these humble movements of our local plants may be laying up results as important, and may hereafter suppl