Part I. A LITTLE TOUR IN THE ALPS. 113 



green moss to the non-botanical observer or amateur. They 

 are very numerous ; I once saw seventy species, or at least 

 varieties, of these plants in one narrow border in the garden of 

 the late Mr. William Borfer, at Henfield in Sussex. The various 

 tints of green of these in early autumn and winter are indescrib- 

 able ; some of them appear as if translucently dew-bespangled, 

 like the hoariness of morning on a dwarf Savin bush ; others, 

 like vS". densa and S. tnuscoides, have the colour of a well-made 

 lawn in autumn, a week after being mown and rained heavily 

 upon — the distant effect of the grass I mean ; but in these little 

 species you look down upon the plant, and get the same colour 

 as the general tone of the grass ; others are of a tint of green 

 that shines just as the laurels do in genial coast gardens after 

 autumnal showers ; others of a dark paint green, and so on 

 through a score of shades of healthiest hue. 



Then there is the silvery race, with such noble species as 

 .S". Cotyledon and .5". lottgifolia, and ending with such earth-biting 

 mites as ^. ccesia and ^. Rocheliana — some large and bold, with 

 tongue- and strap-shaped leaves, margined with distinct white 

 dots ; others forming round swelling masses of silvery rosettes, 

 each about the size of a sixpence ; and others of which the 

 leaves and rosettes are so minute that they become lost in the 

 individuality of the whole plant, and you may fancy you are 

 looking at a small glistening pin-cushion. 



In the moist climate of these islands all the species do quite 

 as well as on their native Alps and Pyrenees ; indeed, I have 

 rarely seen them attain the same vigour in a- wild state that 

 they do in gardens where any attention is paid to them. With 

 us they suffer only from very drying winds in March, and from 

 great droughts — from these causes chiefly the mossy section ; 

 but if watered at such times, there is not the least danger ; if 

 not, unless the soil is very dry and arid, they do not come to much 

 grief, but recover after a while. If watered now and then in dry 

 weather at any season, perfect health would always result. The 

 reason that the arid weather hurts them is this : the little stems 

 send out numerous white delicate rootlets, which gently probe 

 down into the dense masses of moist leaves, and there drink nutri- 

 ment ; but when the arid heat or drought comes, and thoroughly 

 dries up the dense mass of foliage, it also evaporates, so to 

 speak, the life out of these little feeders, and the plants become 

 brown and withered in consequence. But it is not a serious 



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