104 FIVE DATS ON MOUNT MANSFIELD. 



grows in a pretty tuft, and throws out its 

 blossoms in a graceful, loose cluster. The 

 eye is caught by the cluster, and yet each 

 flower shows by itself, and its own proper 

 loveliness is in no way sacrificed to the 

 general effect. How wise, too, is the sand- 

 wort in its choice of a dwelling-place ! In 

 the valley it would be lost amid the crowd. 

 On the bare, brown mountain-top its scat- 

 tered tufts of green and white appeal to all 

 comers. 



To what extent, if at all, the sandwort de- 

 pends upon the service of insects for its fer- 

 tilization, I do not know, but it certainly has 

 no scarcity of such visitors. "Bees will 

 soaf for bloom high as the highest peak of 

 Mansfield;" so runs an entry in my note- 

 book, with a pardonable adaptation of 

 Wordsworth's line; and I was glad to no- 

 tice that even the splendid black-and-yellow 

 butterfly (Turnus), which was often to be 

 seen sucking honey from the fragrant or- 

 chids, did not disdain to sip also from the 

 sandwort 's cup. This large and elegant but- 

 terfly our largest is thoroughly at home 

 on our New England mountains, sailing over 

 the very loftiest peaks, and making its way 



