146 ALPINES AND BOG-PLAN'TS 
own convictions, and I will honestly say that Nature not 
only can be both, but very frequently chooses to be so ; 
so that real treasures are in an inconsiderable minority. 
As for the exalted truth that the emancipated mind can 
see beauties in Groundsel or Deadnettle, not for one 
moment will I deny it. But its prophets in popular 
literature seem too often to speak academically, as wor- 
shippers of the ideal, rather than as horticulturists with 
actual earthly, earthy gardens to cultivate; and as my 
book, no less than my garden, aims at dealing simply with 
the cultivation of obviously beautiful, interesting plants, I 
will reverently waive aside for the time this unis doc- 
trine of immanent, universal beauty, and content myself 
with the concrete, everyday beauty as the everyday 
garden can fitly contain it. ‘The blessed Elizabeth actu- 
ally talks about the ‘ loveliness of Cow-Parsley, that most 
spiritual of weeds.’ But had Elizabeth ever tried Cow- 
Parsley in her German garden? I think not. Nor, to 
do her justice, would she, I believe, claim to admire it 
out of its place. So, thank goodness, we are really 
at one. 
The noble family among the Fig-worts is undoubtedly 
that of the Pentstemons. These are all, as far as I know, 
Americans, and range from north to south, from hill to 
valley, from leafy coarseness to the extremest and most 
delicate beauty. Many, too, hailing from countries where 
the sterner winters are what we should call a warm July, 
prove sad and unhappyin our gardens. But both beautiful 
and happy, even with me, is bushy P. Scouleri, with pro- 
fusion of large pale purple snapdragons. But far more 
beautiful than this, almost lovelier than anything else I 
know, is my latest novelty Pentstemon heterophyllus. ‘This 
is a slender, graceful grower, reaching perhaps to eighteen 
inches. ‘The foliage is dainty and refined ; the flowers 
appear from July onwards, in very loose, elegant spires— 
