THE MOUNTAIN BOG 229 



dowdy ; Allioni is simply dark and dowdy, despite its 

 great rarity, which leads one to expect marvels from its 

 dense, close carpet of branches, clothed with rounded 

 leaves in pairs. Alpina is the bitterest disappointment. 

 The name ought to be a guarantee of worth; but Veronica 

 alpina is pallid and minute of blossom, totally without 

 value ; as for halcana, which I had from Servian seed, it 

 proved a little weed like our own arvensis. Last, but 

 not least, comes the native Speedwell, dear attractive 

 thing, to be allowed its full way in the garden wherever 

 possible, and no more vigorous and easy than all its 

 vigorous, easy clan — excepting only such capricious uglies 

 as bellidioeides and alpina. 



Arnica has been left behind by now, and the hillside is 

 one soaking sponge of bog. Here and there, on stalwart 

 spikes, rise the large lurid goblets of Gentiana piurpurea, 

 huddled in a head, and ranging in colour through shades 

 of dull yellow, brown, and livid bronze. Then comes 

 something exquisite beyond all hope — something that 

 clothes the wettest moss of the slope in tenderest, softest, 

 warmest rose-purple. As we get nearer, straining our 

 hearts to be upon this unexpected delight, we gradually 

 discern its flowers to be borne in round, fluffy heads. 

 What it may be we have no notion. Now it is at our 

 feet; we plunge, lay violent hands upon it, possess it 

 eagerly, with fondlings. And it is a garlic ! And it 

 stinks unutterably — and not all the multitudinous seas 

 can wash us clean of that clinging stench. As a matter 

 of fact, this is the common Chives of our kitchen-gardens. 

 Allium schoenoprason, native of wet highlands in our own 

 Lake Country no less than of the Alps, and, as another 

 matter of fact, a remarkably pretty thing, well worthy of 

 admission to any choice territory and marsh, were it not 

 for its unutterable odour. And here I will not deal 

 exhaustively with possible garlics for the rock-garden. 



