MORE OF THE SMALLER BOG-PLANTS 257 
feet, and put at the bottom a lot of garbage, including a 
quantity of superfluous Menyanthes, weeded from the 
lake. Through three feet of ordinary dry soil those 
mutilated sprays ran up to the level of the upper air, 
and have continued to flourish ever since—-though I 
admit they never flower. 
Though Aenyanthes is not common in this country, I 
often find it, curiously enough, growing desperately 
among the rough grass in high moorland bogs, where it 
throws a few tentative leaves from year to year, but can 
no more flower than Convallaria muaialis in the crevices 
of the denuded stone-flats above. Probably, as there was 
once more copse for the Convallaria, so there was once 
much more water for the Menyanthes, which was thus 
able in old days, before the draining of the land, to climb 
higher and prosper with greater freedom. Now its low- 
land haunts have almost all been cultivated out of exist- 
ence, and it only lingers in these difficult inauspicious 
spots high up on the mountains. 
Of tiny, tiny things for the bog-garden I will now 
mention three of commanding merit. ‘Lhe first is 
Myosotis Rehsteineri, if that be its correct name—a wee 
Forget-me-not, spreading along the damp rich ground, 
with smooth bright green leaves, and spikes of azure 
blossom about two inches high. This, however—I do not 
know whence it hails,—is not of absolutely trustworthy 
constitution, and must be carefully looked after if it is not 
to get crowded out and worsted in the battle with fellow- 
plants, winds and weather. The next is Mentha Requienii, 
a little Mint from Corsica so microscopic as to be hardly 
larger than a lichen. This little plant grows into 
spreading invisible mats over any damp soil, and you 
spend your life in utter ignorance of its existence, until 
one day you tread heedlessly over what seems ordinary 
naked earth, and are instantly assailed by the intense 
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