THE MOUNTAIN BOG 225 
very like those of Calceolus, which, indeed, they replace in 
the New World—while parviflorum has the most fascinat- 
ing, pure white pouches, that look like birds’ eggs. I have 
found all these perfectly thrifty in any cool, rather rich, 
light soil, such as the Cypripediums love—though I am 
not sure that they are particularly long-lived. Cypri- 
pedium arietinum is a rare North American whom I only 
flowered once, a very curious, attractive creature with a 
blunt-nosed pouch which, with the waved petals, gives 
the plant its titular resemblance to a ram’s head. This 
throve for a while in similar ground to that which suited 
the other compatriots ; though now, I fear, it has returned 
to its long home. 
I have little love for Adenostyles alpina, with its large 
triangular colt’s-foot leaves, white on the reverse, and its 
big flat heads of pinkish fluff’ But this now abounds 
by our Alpine stream, as we climb towards its upper 
glades. And so it goes, through beds of buttercup and 
many another casual golden beauty, till we leave the last 
pine woods, and begin to mount over open ground, stony 
and loose, in which the stream is diffused, and nourishes 
in the damp débris Sazxifraga aeizoeides, Campanula 
pusilla, Campanula Scheuchzert. On the ruins of a little 
shelter you will see thick plumy tufts of Cystopteris alpina, 
kindly and adaptable to a cool corner of the rock-work, 
and the occupant, by some unguessable chance, of one 
churchyard wall in Southern England. 
Now we are over the ridge and nearing the last plain 
before we accompany our stream up and up to its source 
in the moraine and the unsleeping snows. In a narrow 
channel it flows, no longer a stream but a streamlet. 
Above its banks on one side hang loose curtains of 
Primula viscosa from shady rocks ; on the other, a sunny 
bank of grass is blue with the trumpets of Gentiana 
acaulis. Down by the very water-side are hurrying 
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