that the largest specimens are found.

When they first make their appearance in a new spot I have observed that they are comparatively small. Agaricus (Pleurotus) salignus, Pers.

This must be a species capable of most extraordinary development, although I have no personal experience of any but small specimens. Fries gives the size of the flabelliform pileus as 6 inches, but one of Dr. Bull's characteristic sketches gives a section of 8 inches, with an intimation that the original specimen was six times that size. If it were intended that this should be interpreted as six times the diameter, it would give no less than 48 inches as the expanse of these saddle flaps. It may truly be said that there were gaints in those days."

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the smallest pinch of salt is required to tone down this monster. Agaricus (Pleurotus) ulmarius, Fr.

Probably

I cannot pretend to any knowledge of extraordinary specimens of this splendid species, never having handled one with an expanse of more than 10 or 12 inches, but often of 7 or 8, with a thickness of 2 inches of solid white flesh with somewhat of the pleasant flavour of a fresh filbert, and when fried, possessing a mild but decidedly appetising flavour, and not in the least tough. In all respects prefer

able to Agaricus ostreatus, which has, I fancy, been lauded above its merits. Agaricus (Pleurotus) revolutus, Kickx.

This is another large species. The only specimen I yet know of as British, had a pileus 12 inches in length. It was found by Mr. Ralfs, at Penzance. Agaricus (Volvaria) bombycinus, Schoff.

Fries allows for this species a height of stem of from 3 to 6 inches, and a diameter of pileus of from 3 to 8 inches. In this country fancy they seldom reach such a size. The largest I have any record of, is a specimen sent me by the Rev. Canon Du Port, which had a pileus, unexpanded 7 inches high, and probably this would when fully opened have been nearly 12 inches. The stem was 7 inches high, with a diameter of 2 inches at the base. This was found growing on Elm, in Norfolk, in July 1881. A few are seen almost annually in some

part of Kew Gardens, but these seldom exceed a diameter of about 4 inches.

[Subsequent to the reading of this paper, a specimen was found in Kew Gardens (in 1886) with the pileus 14 inches in diameter; stem 8 inches long, and 2 inches thick; gills 11⁄2 inches broad; and total weight 2 pounds.] Agaricus (Flammula) carbonarius, Fr.

Under ordinary circumstances this is a small, unpretending species, as Fries says, with a pileus of an inch or a little more in diameter, and a stem of from 1 to 1 inches long. It was growing, with not more than two or three months interruption, during the driest part of the summer, or under the snow, for three years in Kew Gardens. At its maximum of luxuriance I found and measured specimens 5 inches long in the stem, with an expanded pileus of 4 inches; and I imagine that this is the largest size to which this species has ever been known to attain. Ultimately, the charred ground became over-run with docks and nettles, when the struggle for existence terminated fatally for the fungi, and they have not been seen for eighteen months.

Boletus Satanas, Lenz.

Fries gives no dimensions for this species in his Hymenomycetes, but Berkeley says it is sometimes 8 inches across; from which it may be inferred that 8 inches is considered to be a maximum. The largest specimens we have met with were at one of the Woolhope Excursions, in which the pileus measured 9 inches, and the total height was 7 inches, of which 4 was occupied by a stem, 4 inches in diameter at the base. At the time and place alluded to there were some dozen large specimens, but this was the finest. It is an attractive species when young, but when old and bruised, has very little to save it from being kicked aside with contempt. Presumably it is in that stage it merits the application of its specific name "Get thee behind me Satan!"

Sparassis crispa, Fries.

Mr. Worthington Smith exhibited at one of the Epping Forays, two or three years ago, the largest individual of this species it has been my privilege to see. I have quite forgotten its dimensions save the characteristic description given by its exhibitor, that it was so large he had to bring it in two baskets. I think it was somewhere about half a yard in diameter, and occupied a table to itself. A portion only of the smallest half was brought to Hereford for exhibition, and that was equal to a full-sized cauliflower.*

Lycoperdon giganteum, Fl. Dan.

A good-sized specimen was reported to me by Mr. W. Southall, of Birmingham (August 5th, 1884). He described it as 2 feet 9 inches in circumference, and was then full grown (after nine days) and still white. It was somewhat of the shape of a flattened man's skull, with much brains behind.†

This is nevertheless a dwarf compared with one stated to have been found in the United States. Professor Bessey says it was of an oval outline, and measured 5 feet 4 inches in its longest diameter, and 4 feet 6 inches in its smallest diameter, whilst its height was but 9 inches. Professor Call says of it, that it was much larger than the largest washtub we had at home. Only imagine a slice from such a Puff-ball fried for breakfast-only a yard and a half long. In the Freaks of Plant Life I stated, that the largest Puff-ball was not so big as a somnolent sheep, but here is one as large as a good fat sheep, and not unlike in form. Morchella Smithiana, Cooke.

This is naturally a gigantic species, as compared with the common Morel; and any dimensions we might record should not be regarded as more than the average size of the species, but in speaking of gigantic Fungi it could not justifiably be excluded.

*The large Sparassis came from Mr. Malcolm McLean, gardener to J. Whatman, Esq., Vinter's Park, Maidstone. It was found at the base of Scotch Firs. It took two men to carry the deal box in which it was packed, and the box afterwards became a spacious rabbit-hutch. The Sparassis was very compact, solid, and heavy; 3 feet 6 inches round; 10 inches high above the ground; with solid heavy base of Mycelium for six inches beneath the surface. It was divided and carried by two persons to Loughton in two fish baskets, one basket being sufficiently heavy for one person to carry with convenience.-ED.

A large Lycoperdon giganteum, 5 feet 4 inches in circumference, is described in The Gardeners' Chronicle, September 20th, 1884.-ED.

Mr. Smith described his original specimen as 12 inches in height and 7 inches in diameter. The pileus was 6 inches high, and the stem 3 inches thick at the base. Two or three specimens were sent from Yorkshire, in May, 1884, nearly of these dimensions, but they were said to be the smallest specimens, for some boys having found them had broken up the largest, and scattered the fragments over the road. Morchella gigas does not attain to an equal size.

Helvella lacunosa, Fr.

The usual size of this species is about 3 inches high, with a pileus 11⁄2 inches high and about an inch broad, with a stem from to inch in thickness. It is often smaller. A year or two since I found a number of specimens in Monk's Wood, Epping Forest, which were five inches high, with a pileus of 3 inches by 2 in diameter, with a short stem 1 inches thick. Two or three years since I collected similar specimens at Penicuik, near Edinburgh, so that it is probable these dimensions will yet be exceeded.

This brings me to the end of my present list, which might have been extended considerably at the risk of becoming tedious. Perhaps it is not of much practical utility, except as an insinuation that size must be accepted with great caution as an element in the discrimination of species. Two or three instances have been produced in which large individuals of particular species have been found in places known to have been occupied by the same species for consecutive years. Can it be concluded from this that the growth of a species on a definite spot becomes more vigorous in proportion to the period of its occupation? and if so, why? It may not be altogether absurd to keep this enquiry in view, and to repeat the observations.

ON

TRINOMIALISM

IN

ZOOLOGY.

By H. T. WHARTON, M.A., F.Z.S., &c.

THE burning question of nomenclature among zoologists at the present moment is that which is called "trinomialism." It is one that has lately been strongly taken up by American ornithologists; and they are concerned with such a vast extent of territory, and their influence, born of their energy and scientific attainments, is so great, that its consideration in Europe cannot be long delayed. Having been already adopted by Mr. P. L. Sclater in his "Review of the Species of the Family Icterida" in recent numbers of the Ibis, its acceptance probably by the whole scientific world is merely a question of time. So that the sooner we ponder the faith that we shall inevitably embrace, the better it will be for us.

The question, as it stands at present, is a tolerably simple one. We might have adopted it in Europe long ago, if we had only understood it better. The presence among us now of the well-known American ornithologist, Dr. Elliott Coues, makes its consideration at the present time the more desirable.

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Before the epoch of Linnæus it had been the practice of writers on that which was vaguely called "natural history" to use names for species in the same indefinite way as they are popularly employed at present; where, that is, they did not use the still more objectionable method of denoting a species by a whole cumbrous descriptive sentence. For instance, the name sparrow," as applied to the familiar bird of the streets of London, refers, and is referred in London and by Londoners, to a single definite species (Passer domesticus); but in country parts of England the name connotes another species also (Passer montanus), not to mention that which is generally distinguished as the hedge-sparrow (Accentor modularis); and in other countries its connotation becomes still wider. Hence an author, describing the birds of the world, must limit the name " 'sparrow" to a certain individual form which can easily be described and identified.

This difficulty became conspicuously apparent to Linnæus when he attempted to systematise the description and appellation of every known form of animal and vegetable life. And he solved the question by giving every species two names-a family, or generic name, and a subordinate or specific name, just as we might say Smith, John, or Smith, William, for brief distinction's sake. That was "binomialism."

Linnæus's practice was found so convenient by his successors that it became almost an article of faith among them. Instead of one vague name, or a sentence which was simply a more or less short description, naturalists were agreed to call every kind of animal or vegetable by a combined generic and specific name. And in doing so they established a valuable principle, for they showed that names were not essentially in any way descriptive words, but simply a convenient means of making possible the indexing of a connotation of attributes. Similarly, in real life, there are many John Smiths, but Linnæus would describe only one as the

typical John Smith, and then, by simply knowing his name, we could easily find out his address and all that was known about him. Any other John Smith would have a different specific name, so that all confusion would be thenceforth avoided.

The practice was so simple, and has long worked so well, that the scientific world is unwilling, even after the lapse of more than a century, to depart from it. But we must remember that in Linnæus's day the doctrine of special creation was simply universal; men thought that species remained unchanged for all time. Only now the schoolmaster has been abroad, and we have learnt that every species, to become a species, has continually undergone, and is still undergoing, some modification, however slight that modification be, or however long it take to become apparent. Indeed, the difficulty now is to determine the question, What is a species? I do not propose to vie with the logicians in finding a satisfactory solution of this query, but it is enough to note that a species is considered to be a species when it is not connected with any other (however intimately allied) species by intermediate forms; that it and its nearest allies are never, in the greatest series of specimens, confused by the existence of individuals referable to either form; that is, that in the course of ages it has become entirely differentiated, in some important particular or particulars, from every other form.

Now, when those best capable, from experience, of forming a correct opinion have determined what may rightly be considered a true species, we find that in different countries, or under different conditions, individuals of the same species vary in a more or less conspicuous degree. These are allowed the rank of subspecies, and the intergrading forms are grouped and named according to the most marked types that they present; and if forms vary when they occur in countries far distant from one another, a very slight difference is allowed subspecific rank.

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Here it is that "trinomialism" steps in to help us. We discard the old interpolations: var." "subsp.," &c. We keep the old generic name, we keep the old specific name, and we add a third name to indicate the sub-species. A species having a third name is by that very fact relegated to the species indicated by its second name; but it is thereby degraded from the typical species, because, different though it may essentially seem, intermediate forms are found to occur. A species, indeed, stands as such, because, to use the words of Dr. Coues, "its differentiation is accomplished; a sub-species stands as such because the links connecting it with allied forms are existent still. The whole is but a question of time and circumstance; the sub-species of to-day may become, when the connecting links are lost, the species of to-morrow. We are only concerned with what we see and know. Names but indicate the pigeon-holes where, for a time, we may stow whatever knowledge we can gather about the titles we choose to put upon them; the titles matter nothing so long as we can find the required pigeon-holes, and to this orderly arrangement all science tends, or its result is chaos. Numbers, indeed, would do as well as names, if we knew all existing or possible species; only this we can never know, and, moreover, names we can arrange as we please, whereas numbers insist upon