but as yet the flower has been seen in Europe only by the eyes of faith.  It may be news to some that Utricularias do not belong to the orchid family—­have, in fact, not the slightest kinship, though associated with it by growers to the degree that Mr. Sander admits them to his farm.  A little story hangs to the exquisite U.  Campbelli.  All importers are haunted by the spectral image of Cattleya labiata, which, in its true form, had been brought to Europe only once, seventy years ago, when this book was written.  Some time since, Mr. Sander was looking through the drawings of Sir Robert Schomburgk, in the British Museum, among which is a most eccentric Cattleya named—­for reasons beyond comprehension—­a variety of C.  Mossiae.  He jumped at the conclusion that this must be the long-lost C. labiata.  So strong indeed was his confidence that he despatched a man post-haste over the Atlantic to explore the Roraima mountain; and, further, gave him strict injunctions to collect nothing but this precious species.  For eight months the traveller wandered up and down among the Indians, searching forest and glade, the wooded banks of streams, the rocks and clefts, but he found neither C. labiata nor that curious plant which Sir Robert Schomburgk described.  Upon the other hand, he came across the lovely Utricularia Campbelli, and in defiance of instructions brought it down.  But very few reached England alive.  For six weeks they travelled on men’s backs, from their mountain home to the River Essequibo; thence, six weeks in canoe to Georgetown, with twenty portages; and, so aboard ship.  The single chance of success lies in bringing them down, undisturbed, in the great clumps of moss which are their habitat, as is the Vriesia of other species.

I will allow myself a very short digression here.  It may seem unaccountable that a plant of large growth, distinct flower, and characteristic appearance, should elude the eye of persons trained to such pursuits, and encouraged to spend money on the slightest prospect of success, for half a century and more.  But if we recall the circumstances it ceases to astonish.  I myself spent many months in the forests of Borneo, Central America, and the West African coast.  After that experience I scarcely understand how such a quest, for a given object, can ever be successful unless by mere fortune.  To look for a needle in a bottle of hay is a promising enterprise compared with the search for an orchid clinging to some branch high up in that green world of leaves.  As a matter of fact, collectors seldom discover what they are specially charged to seek, if the district be untravelled—­the natives, therefore, untrained to grasp and assist their purpose.  This remark does not apply to orchids alone; not by any means.  Few besides the scientific, probably, are aware that the common Eucharis amasonica has been found only once; that is to say, but one consignment has ever been received in