large reptiles on its banks, he goes on: "But it was among the flora
that the principle of natural selection was most prominently displayed.
In such a district--overrun with rodents and escaped cattle, subject to
floods that carried away whole islands of botany, and especially to
droughts that dried up the lakes and almost the river itself--no
ordinary plant could live, even on this rich and watered alluvial
debris. The only plants that escaped the cattle were such as were either
poisonous, or thorny, or resinous, or indestructibly tough. Hence we had
only a great development of solanums, talas, acacias, euphorbias, and
laurels. The buttercup is replaced by the little poisonous yellow oxalis
with its viviparous buds; the passion-flowers, asclepiads, bignonias,
convolvuluses, and climbing leguminous plants escape both floods and
cattle by climbing the highest trees and towering overhead in a flood of
bloom. The ground plants are the portulacas, turneras, and cenotheras,
bitter and ephemeral, on the bare rock, and almost independent of any
other moisture than the heavy dews. The pontederias, alismas, and
plantago, with grasses and sedges, derive protection from the deep and
brilliant pools; and though at first sight the 'monte' doubtless
impresses the traveller as a scene of the wildest confusion and ruin,
yet, on closer examination, we found it far more remarkable as a
manifestation of harmony and law, and a striking example of the
marvellous power which plants, like animals, possess, of adapting
themselves to the local peculiarities of their habitat, whether in the
fertile shades of the luxuriant 'monte' or on the arid, parched-up
plains of the treeless pampas."

A curious example of the struggle between plants has been communicated
to me by Mr. John Ennis, a resident in New Zealand. The English
water-cress grows so luxuriantly in that country as to completely choke
up the rivers, sometimes leading to disastrous floods, and necessitating