brown; they then discharge their seeds, perish, and fade off, leaving the stem and branches in full vigour. This kind is found in marshy grounds. The next species which presents itself to us, E. fluviatile, is another of those formed as the preceding, with its point on the suminit of the branching stem. This is universally distributed, and usually occurs in ponds and ditches, a portion of the stem being immersed in water. The stem is erect, and often more than three feet in height, including the part which stands beneath the water. The submerged part is smooth, the whole stem striated and pointed; the sheaths, which are a quarter of an inch in depth, are green, and clasp the stem, which is also green, very closely. The teeth (from sixteen to twenty in number) are separate and sharp pointed, and of a dark brown or black. The portion of the stem above the water is furnished with whorls of ascending branches, commonly called leaves, which rise from the articulations below the sheaths; and on its point is borne a short, ovate, gibbous catkin, composed of scales, often more than one hundred in number, at first quite black, but, as they separate by the ripening of the catkin, a common receptacle of ivory whiteness is disclosed. This species of Equisetum, as is indeed the case with the whole tribe, are said to possess medicinal properties. Linnæus says that it is a good food for cows and rein-deer; and in the Journal of a Naturalist' we learn that it is a favourite food with the water rat. The author says: "A large, stagnant piece of water in an inland county, with which I was intimately acquainted, and which I frequently visited for many years of my life, was one summer suddenly infested with an astonishing number of the short-tailed water-rat (Arvicola amphibia), none of which had previously existed there. Its vegetation was the common product of such places, excepting that the larger portion of it was densely covered with its usual crop, the smooth horsetail (E. fluviatile). This constituted the food of the creatures; and the noise they made by their champing it we could distinctly hear in the evening at many yards' distance." The loveliest of all this pretty group of plants next claims our notice, the Wood Horsetail (E. sylvaticum). This seems to form a sort of link between those which throw up their catkins on a separate bare stem, producing at a later season the leafy barren stalks, and those which exhibit both fruit and branches on the same stem; for the wood horsetail sends up its catkins in April, on separate, earlier stems than those which usually bear the branches, and are barren; yet these fertile stems also display branches when mature, and not unfrequently whilst the beautiful catkin is still in vigour on its apex. It is a little plant of at most about a foot high; the stem is of the most delicate pinkish hue, tinged with a soft green, and set off by the rich black pointing of the teeth of the sheath. From each of the three or four upper joints springs a whorl of delicate-green pointed branches, which droop like a sort of canopy round the stem, their emerald hue and graceful curve giving to the plant a most attractive appearance; and its elongate catkin, which crowns the summit, shows the same greenish-pink tinting as the stem, with the addition of the rich colouring of the pale-brown scales. The barren stems, which arise almost simultaneously with the fertile, are more slender, the whorls of branches much closer together, and the branches much longer and more numerous-the whole having a weaker and more drooping appearance, and the colour of both stems and branches being less clearer and vivid than that of the fertile spike. This kind grows in moist woods. The Shady Horsetail, E. umbrosum, is rare, and has only been found in a few localities in Scotland and Ireland, and not at all in England. The fertile stems are from four to six inches high, of a pale-whitish green, the sheaths large, loose, and nearly white, with a brown ring at the base of the teeth, the catkin terminal, oval, and of a pale brown. The barren stem is about eighteen inches high, and branched, somewhat like the last described. The Great Horsetail, E. telmateia, is the curious and beautiful kind, with the general description of which this paper opened; and the next succeeding, E. arvense, is the smaller species, which we have spoken of as likely to be mixed with it, and in the adjoining pasture-ground. We have, therefore, little more to say of either of these species, except to point attention to the great beauty of the barren stem of the former, which grows sometimes to a height of from four feet and a half to five feet. It is at the base from an inch to an inch and a half in diameter, and tapers to a point at the summit. The stem is perfectly smooth, the colour of the part between the sheaths of the upper portion white, just tinged with green; but towards the base of the stem an intense black. The sheaths are, at the stoutest parts of the stems, fully an inch and a half in length, striped and finished at the upper edge with a row of slender, thread-like, black teeth: the sheaths are pale green. Each of the joints is furnished with a whorl of slender branches; those towards the summit of the stem being eight or nine inches long, those in each whorl becoming shorter as they draw nearer the base of the stem, until they are scarcely visible. The exclusively fertile stems (for in this and the preceding species there are not only barren and fertile stems, but those which partake of both natures) come up, as I have said, in April. They are eight or nine inches in length; the catkin, which is very thick, occupying about a fourth or rather more of its length. The sheaths, which nearly cover the stem, are large and loose, at the base pale brown, but darker towards the summit, and edged with from thirty to forty thread-like teeth. The other species, E. arvense, or the corn-field horsetail, is much smaller, and its catkin very pretty, being slender, of a delicate brown, and raised on a footstalk; the stem, a light sort of salmon colour, or brownish, and tinged with rosy red; the scales are very regularly arranged, and shed, when ripe, abundance of seed of a beautiful green colour. The branches of the barren stems are feeble, and scattered in growth, and the whole plant of a dull glaucous green, and much less beautiful than any of its congeners. Bur pleasures are like poppies spread, A moment white, then melts for ever; That flit ere you can point their place; THE HOME FRIEND; A WEEKLY MISCELLANY OF AMUSEMENT AND INSTRUCTION. PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. REVIEW OF THE FLEET AT SPITHEAD. "DOUBLE journey tickets to Portsmouth by the South-Western Railway, available from Wednesday, August 11th, till the following Saturday." This notice was decisive, even if I had entertained any doubt before as to the method by which I should proceed to Portsmouth; so, accompanied by a young friend, who, like myself, had been born within the sound of breakers, I left London for the scene of the naval review on the afternoon of the Wednesday. A very large number of persons apparently preferred incurring a little extra expense to the cheap and uncomfortable "excursion-train ;" hence we left the Waterloo Station after time, lost time on the road, and were very much behind time when we reached our destination. We found Portsmouth in a high fever. What would have been the state of feeling there on the eve of Nelson's last weighing anchor in a British port, if the result of Trafalgar had been anticipated, it is impossible to say; but, certainly, there was no such gathering then: no trains, no omnibuses, no cabs, and, we may add, no mimicry of war, but bitter partings, many; misgivings, not a few; and though no one, perhaps, doubted that, with God's blessing, victory would be ours, there was certainty that the laurels would be sprinkled with blood. Not so, however, on the present occasion. England was about to make a display of her naval strength, with no intention of "using it like a giant," but in her desire of putting forth the most cogent of all possible arguments in favour of peace. We quickly transferred our seats from the railway carriages to the outside of an omnibus, and in a few minutes found ourselves at Portsmouth Pier, which, as well as all the streets we had traversed, the Battery, and every place of public resort, was thronged with visitors. Before we had been in the town half an hour we had, with remarkably good fortune, secured tickets for one of the steam-boats which convey the mail from Portsmouth to the Isle of Wight, at a high price certainly" a guinea each;" but our experience of naval tactics having assured us that so large a fleet as was then anchored at Spithead could not properly manoeuvre within a reasonable distance of the land, we determined to take ship at any cost. But not only had we provided for the next day, but, with yet greater good fortune, we had secured berths for the intervening night-real beds in real rooms, and at a moderate price, too. Tea was quickly despatched, and we proIceeded to take a survey of the scene of to-morrow's evolutions. The evening was calm and pleasant; our boat glided slowly towards the fleet; we looked with melancholy interest towards the spot where "Kempenfelt went down With his eight hundred men ;" and, scarcely behind that, the "Victory," which was pointed out to us in the harbour, was not eager, like a chained lion, to take part in the coming fray. Certainly, no mere human structure wears the semblance of life in an equal degree with a well-appointed ship-not even a power-loom, with its discriminating fingers and perpetual action. The loom, after all, is but the accurate application of a mechanical power; but the ship possesses, or at least has the credit of possessing, consciousness and volition. We always talk of a ship as a living thing, and ascribe to her (not it) living acts. She rides at anchor; she walks the waters; she reposes on the bosom of the deep; she hoists her sails; but, if she be British, she never strikes her colours. The fleet lay anchored in two lines at Spithead, too distant for critical examination, but still very remarkable; for, steamers though they were, without exception, they had all the appearance of sailing vessels: lofty, tapering spars, cordage all "ataunt," and no paddles, no smoke, and no conspicuous funnels; though, when the eye searched for the latter, they were sufficiently evident. We had not seen salt-water for some months; so, though the sea was perfectly still, and we were only in a wherry, we enjoyed our petty voyage greatly, and landed on the beach near Southsea Castle. Having traversed the esplanade described in No. 64, and the common that skirts it on the seaside, we fixed on a place for a swim next morning, and returned to our lodgings, congratulating ourselves that we neither had to pay five shillings for the privilege of passing the night on a Windsor chair, as many did, nor to put up with a gratuitous lodging in the streets. Our host, an intelligent, superannuated shipwright, entertained us with stories of bygone days, when he earned ten shillings a day in the dockyard; of the visit paid to Portsmouth by the Allied Sovereigns, &c.; winding up the whole with the charitable hope "that we might never again hear of an angry shot being fired." Thursday, the 12th of August 1853, is a day which tens of thousands will remember as one in which they saw and took part in a portion of the history of England; nor, to the best of my belief, is there any day noted in our naval records, however illustrious it may be, which was not memorable also for disaster either to ourselves or our foes; and, even until the day was past, it was scarcely to be anticipated that, although no harm was meditated against any living creature, so vast a multitude could assemble and separate without some terrible casualty. Yet, by God's blessing, no fatality occurred at sea; and though a deplorable accident took place on land, it was entirely unconnected with the review of the fleet, but resulted from the reckless carelessness of a sportsman, who must needs select a day, great in the annals of his country, to exhibit his prowess in shooting gulls. We thought Portsmouth full on the previous evening; so that, when the morning trains brought fresh crowds from London and elsewhere, it was overflowing with visitors, who poured in an uninterrupted tide through the principal streets to the batteries, the esplanade, and every spot of ground which commanded a view of the harbour; while from the pier numerous packet-boats conveyed dense masses of would-be spectators— destined, alas! to be disappointed-to the Isle of Wight. At ten o'clock we forced our way through the throng, and were glad to find ourselves on board the mail-packet-boat called "Her Majesty." Early though we were, we were far from being among the first on board, many persons having slept there, and many more having preferred to embark by the help of a boat, at a cost of five shillings a-head, before she came alongside the pier. We stationed ourselves at the bow; in a few minutes our complement, two hundred, were all on board, and we found ourselves under way. Our boat was said to be the fastest and most manageable on the station, and such it turned out; for in an incredibly short space of time we were in the midst of the fleet, gazing up with admiration at the marine castles that appeared far too massive to be borne up by a watery founda |