remember, too, how the whole summit, from the Nose to the Chin, was
sprinkled with the modest and beautiful Greenland sandwort, springing up
in every little patch of thin soil, where nothing else would flourish,
and blossoming even under the door-step of the hotel. Unpretending as it
is, this little alpine adventurer makes the most of its beauty. The
blossoms are not crowded into close heads, so as to lose their
individual attractiveness, like the florets of the golden-rod, for
example; nor are they set in a stiff spike, after the manner of the
orchid just now mentioned. At the same time the plant does not trust to
the single flower to bring it into notice. It grows in a pretty tuft,
and throws out its blossoms in a graceful, loose cluster. The eye is
caught by the cluster, and yet each flower shows by itself, and its own
proper loveliness is in no way sacrificed to the general effect. How
wise, too, is the sandwort in its choice of a dwelling-place! In the
valley it would be lost amid the crowd. On the bare, brown mountain-top
its scattered tufts of green and white appeal to all comers.

To what extent, if at all, the sandwort depends upon the service of
insects for its fertilization, I do not know, but it certainly has no
scarcity of such visitors. "Bees will soar for bloom high as the highest
peak of Mansfield;" so runs an entry in my notebook, with a pardonable
adaptation of Wordsworth's line; and I was glad to notice that even the
splendid black-and-yellow butterfly (_Turnus_), which was often to be
seen sucking honey from the fragrant orchids, did not disdain to sip
also from the sandwort's cup. This large and elegant butterfly--our
largest--is thoroughly at home on our New England mountains, sailing
over the very loftiest peaks, and making its way through the forests
with a strong and steady flight. Many a time have I taken a second look
at one, as it has threaded the treetops over my head, thinking to see a
bird. Besides the _Turnus_, I noted here the nettle tortoise-shell
butterfly (_Vanessa Milberti_--a showy insect, and the more attractive
to me as being comparatively a stranger); the common cabbage butterfly;
the yellow _Philodice_; the copper; and, much more abundant than any of
these, a large orange-red fritillary (_Aphrodite_, I suppose),
gorgeously bedecked with spots of silver on the under surface of the
wings. All these evidently knew that plenty of flowers were to be found
along this seemingly barren