By Charles T. Druery, F.L.S. The editorial note appended to my short article in the April issue of The Bulletin rather takes my breath away, as I never imagined that an answer to my query could “depend somewhat upon whether we admire ferns for pure leaves or whether we collect them for study.” No true fern lover in either case would knowingly destroy one of Nature’s own novelties in the way I described by denuding it repeatedly of its fronds for herbarium purposes in situ, when by removing and cultivating it he could also, in either case, not only gratify his own special taste more fully, but could afford much gratification to a host of other fern lovers of either class. That “students of ferns know that many fern forms are due to varying conditions of soil, light, moisture, etc., and are inclined to pay very little attention to them” I accept at once, ranking myself with them; but advanced students also know that many forms are not demonstrably due to such influences, and amongst these forms are all those which claim so much attention in this side of the ocean. The former are, as the editor puts it, “variants,” the latter true varieties, and so far as they are of Nature’s own shaping, i. e., wild finds, as distinct from improved selected types from the spores, they have at least as much right to recognition in fern literature as the normals. Hence it is to be regretted that a unique form of the Christmas fern (Polystichum acrostichoides) should exist in the possession of a member of the Fern Chapter for ten years, and, yet, never be described. What have the other members done that such interesting data to some of them should be withheld? The reference to seven-toed kittens and two-headed rabbits, as fair parallels to the finest fern varieties in the mind of the average student, is a poor compliment to the student who would certainly benefit by a better acquaintance with the plumose section of varieties at any rate. With the many botanists stated to exist in the States who “prefer a wild rose to all the gardeners’ many-petalled creations” I have more sympathy, but here comes in the old botanical mistake embodied in the term “garden forms” [It is doubtless as difficult for Mr. Druery to understand our position in this matter as it is to understand his. How a student of ferns can care for what might be termed abnormal variations is beyond our comprehension. The student is always interested in normal variations, if we may so describe the common, slight variations in form and texture due principally to ecological factors; in fact, it is necessary that we take all such into account in order to get a correct average of the species; but to give serious attention to forked, crested, plumed, tasselled and befrizzled specimens of ferns, which are manifestly due to the slipping of a cog somewhere in Nature’s machinery, is quite out of the question. We grant that some of these attain forms that merit admiration for their beauty, or oddity, as showing what Nature can do in the way of leaves, but we maintain that were these forms animal, instead of vegetable, they would excite only feelings of repulsion. Now, the student of fern species is quite inclined to think of these “freaks,” as he calls them, much as others would if they were animal. The botanist may admire the form, hue and perfume of the gardener’s rose, but this is not the rose he cares to study. In the early numbers of The Fern Bulletin, upward of sixty American ferns have been put on |