THE AMERICAN BOTANIST. 15 



stemmed. The latter is the so-called dog violet — a term of 

 contempt which has come to us from England, and was given 

 because this species (which grows there too) is lacking in the 

 fragrance that is so much cherished in the common sweet vio- 

 let of the Old World. As a matter of fact, in this country, 

 the wild violets have not as a rule any noticeable perfume. The 

 sweet white violet, however, whose charming little blossom 

 brighten damp, shady meadows and mossy banks of woodland 

 streams, has a delicious, though delicate, fragrance. Rarely 

 is a posy from the fields more acceptable to one shut in than a 

 handful of these dainty flowers. Their sweetness is too fleet- 

 ing to cloy, but quite enough to awaken dormant memories and 

 bring back to the sick-room some happiness of other days. 



Hardly less interesting than the blossoms of violets are 

 their leaves, and they are even more various. In some cases 

 they undergo complete transformation as the plant grows old. 

 Thus the early leaves of the common blue violet of the fields 

 are roundish, with their sides rolled inward, while the later 

 leaves are cut and divided into such fringes and lobes that one 

 would not suspect them to have sprung from the same root. 

 In other caess the leaves have marked shapes at the start, and 

 these give to the varieties their special names. Of these may 

 be mentioned the lance-leaved — a white violet, common in 

 damp soil, with erect leaves, shaped like lance-heads ; the bird- 

 foot, frequent in sandy places, having leaves cut into four or 

 five narrow divisions, like the claws of a bird ; and the arrow- 

 leaved, with foliage shaped like arrow-heads, the barbs often 

 beautifully toothed and fringed, as though nature took delight 

 in putting a special loving touch to a weapon that could harm 

 no one. — C. F. Saunders, in Young People. 



