THE JULY FIELDS 127 



toward resemblances in their surroundings ; for- 

 tunately, there are some beauty-spots which have 

 so far escaped the eye with the disturbing gift 

 of " seeing forms " in clouds and trees and whatnot ; 

 and Champex is one such. At Champex we may 

 rest and dream without fear of our indulgence 

 degenerating into a nightmare. 



But this is not such a season for dreaming as 

 was the spring ; we are far more of the world than 

 we were when the Vernal Gentian, that " turquoise 

 lighting a ground of green," was heralding all that 

 is now so rapidly falling before the scythe. Yet it 

 must not be supposed that these fields have lost all 

 power to nourish or stimulate the imagination. 

 The configuration and nature of the ground are so 

 varied that haymaking is a more lengthy and 

 irregular operation than it is upon the plains. We 

 have only to turn to the ousy land where the 

 Grass-of- Parnassus ^ opens its white, green-veined, 

 Ranunculus-like flowers among the large, rich-blue 

 bells of Campanula Scheuchzeri and the tall, paler 

 blue spikes of Polemonium cceruleurn, the well- 



' The name " Grass-of-Parnassus " often occasions wonder; for the 

 plant, a member of the St. John's Wort tribe, shows no affinity to 

 grass. Ainie Pratt, in her celebrated book on English ^\'ild-flowers, 

 says the name possibly arises from the fact that the plant " is as com- 

 mon as the very grass itself on Mount Parnassus." 



