VIOLA. 



also V. amoena (Leconte), a sternless species from beside the mountain 

 streams of North America, sending out running, rooting shoots, and 

 abounding in sweet-scented white violets. 



V. bosniaca gives us one of the most important contributions that 

 this generous race has brought us in recent years ; and, indeed, with 

 V. gracilis and V. bosniaca, we have no need to complain of Viola. 

 This has almost the lush and ready massed habit of a bedding Viola, 

 but up the flopping stems, all the summer through, is produced an 

 endless succession of brilliant little elongated Pansies of flaming 

 vinous rose-mauve, a colour indescribably brilliant and in itself 

 delightful, but which requires the greatest care and forethought in 

 its associations. No such forethought or care are required by the 

 plant, which thrives handsomely and perennially in any light good 

 soil and open place, readily multiplied by cuttings as well as by seed. 



V. Brittoniana lives in the moist sandy places along the Atlantic 

 coasts of North America, and is also V. atlantica (Britton), and V. 

 septemloba of other authorities. The earlier leaves of its clumps are 

 reddish underneath and roughly toothed, the later ones are kidney- 

 shaped in outline, but then cut into some five to nine ample lobes. 

 The flowers are noble big violets of brilliant purple, with a brilliantly 

 white eye. One authority states that they continue through the 

 later months of summer. 



V. Bubanii is a variety of V. lutea from the Pyrenees, with long 

 pansies of intense purple, and the whole growth more or less silky- 

 haired. 



V caespitosa is a doubtful mountain-tuffet of the East, like a 

 condensed high-alpine V. tricolor. 



V. calaminaria is a unique form of V. lutea, abundant by the lead 

 mines of La Gueule in Belgium. 



V. calcarata. — This is the alpine Pansy, veiling all the hills for 

 miles and miles in hazy films of gold and lavender, and making a riot 

 of colour in the fine turf of June such as no pen nor brush can paint, 

 of a hundred million pansies in every shade, from pure white through 

 yellows of softness, subtlety, and violent gold, to tender lavender and 

 on into the richest imperial violet, interrupted everywhere by the 

 crashing azures of Oentiana verna, with the dropped dark indigo 

 trumpets of 0. latifolia coming into the chorus like deep solemn notes 

 of music in the clangour of lilting colours, lightened with the tinkle 

 of Potontillas, and softened by the dim-grey universal hum of Globu- 

 laria, till the whole is an orchestra of glory fit only for the accompani- 

 ment of passing gods. Not always, however, for the passing man ; for 

 one who writes with facile fluency about flowers, stood there upon a 



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