256 ALPINES AND BOG-PLANTS 
thing is, when suited, a tremendous invasive grower, and, 
personally, I believe its hardiness to be beyond question. 
But occasionally in bad winters and unpropitious places, 
it shows signs of a rickety constitution, violently as it 
grows, when it chooses. And therefore it will be as well, 
when in doubt, to give it a careful sheltered bank, very 
well-drained, where cold winter damps cannot lodge, 
and where the soil is light and good, exposed to full sun, 
yet safe from blasts and rigours. Yet remember, if you 
give Parochaetus these advantages you will have to reckon 
with the certainty of his eating you out of house and 
home in half a season. Therefore let nothing else of 
choice be planted in that select sheltered corner—except 
Tulips, perhaps, and other precious bulbs. Never mind 
if, at first planting, your infant Parochaetus looks a mere 
spot of green on an acre of bare earth. In a month the 
Blue Himalyan Pea will have covered all his space, and 
probably a great deal more as well. 
As for Potentilla Comarum, this native Potentilla, inter- 
esting and curious, can only be admitted to the roughest, 
rankest of wet places. It is never very effective—a 
rampant low spreading thing, with big flowers of a dingy 
chocolate. Nor have I very much love for Chrysobactron 
Hookeri, a smallish yellow Asphodel of about eighteen 
inches, which thrives in cool wet corners of the bog. 
Though bright and pretty, it is not a very distinguished- 
looking plant. Far otherwise is it with the Bog-bean, 
best-beloved native of our marshes—bean-like in foliage, 
spreading its creeping branches abroad with unrelenting 
speed, and sending up countless spikes of its big cup- 
shaped flowers, all shaggy with pink and white fur, over- 
flowing with a foam of snow and cream. For shallow 
water, or a broad muddy expanse, nothing could be finer. 
But this is a true ramper, almost indestructible. I made 
a bed for Rhododendrons once, took out the soil for three 
