CAMPANULA. 
effect, it forms but one long taproot, easily exhausted by the 
generosity of its bloom, and so left without strength against winter 
wets and rottenness. It seeds, of course, profusely. 
C. Barreliert, a garden name for C. fragilis. 
C. Baumgarienit. See under C. rotundifolia. 
C. bavarica, a synonym of C. Portenschlagiana, q.v. 
C. Bayerniana, about 2 inches high, from alpine rocks of Trans- 
caucasia and North Persia, makes a very dense tuft of very minute 
toothed leaves on long petioles, round or oval, with a stem of tubular 
blue flowers, almost wholly smeoth outside or only quite minutely 
downy. 
C. Beauverdiana, a rather thready and straggling, but elegant 
Caucasian, with scalloped oval foliage at the base, and then stems of 
a foot or so, nude-looking and fine, with branches carrying large 
open shallow stars of purple on particularly long foot-stalks. Ordinary 
beds. 
C. Bellardii, Ten.—lIt is indeed a comfort that after ail these years 
of confusion it has now been ascertained that this name of 1785 takes 
the precedence over Haenke’s ‘“‘C. Hals Pusilla”’ of 1788, which has 
bred among us such an unutterable tangle—and the more deplorable 
that there is not a garden in England that does not revel in this most 
delicate of common little alpine weeds. But in all catalogues Haenke’s 
name has got so entangled with C. caespitosa, Scop., and C. modesta 
(which are both absolutely distinct species, one of them uncommon in 
cultivation and the other almost unknown), that now the three are 
spoken of as one, and, what is worse, C. pusilla of Haenke almost 
always in catalogues appears by a double error under the name of 
C. caespitosa. Therefore it is providential that we can now quite 
simply get rid of all this trouble by letting the invalid name of 
C. pusilla (Haenke) drop altogether. And we make a fresh start and 
revive the only correct name of C. Bellardii, thus leaving the true C. 
caespitosa and the true C’. modesta to take once more their long-usurped 
places in lists. C. Bellardii needs no praise ; all the mountain shingles 
from July onwards blush blue with the countless myriads of its 
dancing bells. Nor do our gardens blush any more scantily; and 
C. Bellardit again and again earns sighs of gratitude as it fills the stray 
corners in August, and the niches by the steps, and the pathside 
itself with a riot of dainty colour and quivering fairy-bells—the most 
indestructible and amiable of hearty rampers. Nor is the white form 
less lovely—the <«religieuse des prés,” the quiet pure little nun of so 
many an old cottage edging. The species, indeed, varies abundantly ; 
there are many softer tones, from a true silver-blue to more pallid 
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