THE GREATER BOG-PLANTS 183 
age and roaming ground if the plant is to do well; 
though otherwise there is no sort of difficulty attending 
its cultivation. No less easy, but rather less brilliantly 
beautiful is the smaller, more numerous-flowered Arnica 
Chamissonis that I collected in the Rockies and have 
since found perfectly easy to grow, though not very con- 
spicuously worthy of the trouble, by comparison with the 
outstanding charm of Arnica montana. 
Now I no longer have any shadow of excuse, and must 
soar downward again to my bog, resisting manfully any 
peevish inclination to call it a slough. A quantity of 
isolated species now claim garden-room and _ notice. 
Already have I sung my song of gratitude and praise to 
Anemone rivularis, Thalictrum aquilegifolium, Ranuncu- 
lus aconitifolius, and Gentiana asclepiadea. All these 
must be throned piously in the bog, though the pretty, 
cloudy white stars of the Buttercup do not deserve the 
choice place that must be given to the lovely Anemone 
and its contemporary Willow-Gentian, with the long 
arching wreaths of sapphire trumpets, lightening up the 
garden in late summer, and coping with the hot flame of 
the Panther Lilies and their kin. The Buttercup takes 
any amount of moisture, and is patient of a good deal of 
shade. ‘The others are not exacting, but will do best with 
a little less of either. Campanula macrantha, too, the 
enlarged version of our own giant latifolia, is a magnifi- 
cent plant for some rough copsy corner at the outskirt of 
the bog. It would be dangerous to admit this near select 
quarters, but it makes a fine figure at the back of the 
picture among ferns and lush foliage. Another rare 
native and north countryman there is that I loved from 
my early days, and still love, though with tears and 
reluctance. ‘The Melancholy Thistle stands apart among 
its kind—though this, as far as I can see, is no reason 
why it should be melancholy—in having no spines or thorns 
