I looked about for varieties, but failed to detect any special character by which it could be referred to any of the varietal names given in catalogues, and concluded that it was N. poeticus pure and simple.  Pulmonarias were abundant along the road, as also in the whole region of the Pyrenees, the character of the leaves varying greatly, some being spotless, some full of irregular white patches, others with well defined round spots.  They varied, too, from broad heart-shaped to narrow lanceolate, and I soon concluded that it was hopeless to attempt any division of the class founded upon the leaves.

Besides the beautiful flowers of Scabious mentioned before, a new feature in the meadows here was the abundance of Astrantia major.  A pure white Hesperis matronalis was also common, but I saw no purple forms of it.  Geranium phaeum also grew everywhere in the fields, the color of the flower varying a good deal.  Hepaticas were not so common by the roadside here as at Eaux Bonnes, but are generally distributed.  Many of them have their leaves beautifully marbled, and I selected and brought away a few of the best, in hopes that they may keep this character.  I was struck everywhere by the one-crowned appearance of the Hepaticas, as if in their second year from seed.

On the mountains, where they were still in flower, I did not find the colors mixed, but on one mountain they would be all white, on another all blue.  I do not recollect to have seen any pink.  Meconopsis cambrica is common in the Pyrenees.  I observe that in Grenier’s “French Flora” the color of the flower is given as “jaune orange,” but I never saw it either in England or in France with orange flowers till I saw it covering a bank by the side of the road to the Vallee du Lys.  I was too much struck by it to delay securing a plant or two, which was lucky, for when we returned every flower had been gathered by some rival admirers.

Another expedition from Luchon is to the Lac d’Oo.  This, too, is famous for flowers; but especially so is a high valley called Val d’Esquierry, 2,000 ft. or 3,000 ft. above the village d’Oo, at which the carriage road ends.  Botanists call this the garden of the Pyrenees, and, of course, I was most anxious to see it.

The landlord of our hotel was quite enthusiastic in his description of the treat in store for me, enumerating a long catalogue of colors, and indicating with his hand, palm downward, the height from the ground at which I was to expect to see each color.  I was afterward told that he had never been to the famous valley, being by no means addicted to climbing mountains.

During the first part of the drive from Luchon we saw hanging from the rocks by the roadside large masses of Saponaria ocymoides, varying much in the shade of color of the flowers.  This is a plant which I find it better to grow from cuttings than from seed.  The best shades of color are in this way preserved, and the plants are more flowery and less straggling.  As we got near the end of the carriage road, the meadows became more crowded with flowers known in England only in gardens.