I pause here, to consider a little; because I find myself mixing up two characteristics which have nothing necessary in their relation;—­namely, the unity of the blossom, and its coming easily off the stalk.  The separate petals of the cistus and cherry fall as easily as the foxglove drops its bells;—­on the other hand, there are monopetalous things that don’t drop, but hold on like the convoluta,[19] and make the rest of the tree sad for their dying.  I do not see my way to any systematic noting of decadent or persistent corolla; but, in passing, we may thank the veronica for never allowing us to see how it fades,[20] and being always cheerful and lovely, while it is with us.

9.  And for a farther specialty, I think we should take note of the purity and simplicity of its floral blue, not sprinkling itself with unwholesome sugar like a larkspur, nor varying into coppery or turquoise-like hue as the forget-me-not; but keeping itself as modest as a blue print, pale, in the most frequent kinds; but pure exceedingly; and rejoicing in fellowship with the grey of its native rocks.  The palest of all I think it will be well to remember as Veronica Clara, the “Poor Clare” of Veronicas.  I find this note on it in my diary,—­

’The flower of an exquisite grey-white, like lichen, or shaded hoar-frost, or dead silver; making the long-weathered stones it grew upon perfect with a finished modesty of paleness, as if the flower could be blue, and would not, for their sake.  Laying its fine small leaves along in embroidery, like Anagallis tenella,—­indescribable in the tender feebleness of it—­afterwards as it grew, dropping the little blossoms from the base of the spire, before the buds at the top had blown.  Gathered, it was happy beside me, with a little water under a stone, and put out one pale blossom after another, day by day.’

10.  Lastly, and for a high worthiness, in my estimate, note that it is wild, of the wildest, and proud in pure descent of race; submitting itself to no follies of the cur-breeding florist.  Its species, though many resembling each other, are severally constant in aspect, and easily recognizable; and I have never seen it provoked to glare into any gigantic impudence at a flower show.  Fortunately, perhaps, it is scentless, and so despised.

11.  Before I attempt arranging its families, we must note that while the corolla itself is one of the most constant in form, and so distinct from all other blossoms that it may be always known at a glance; the leaves and habit of growth vary so greatly in families of different climates, and those born for special situations, moist or dry, and the like, that it is quite impossible to characterize Veronic, or Veronique, vegetation in general terms.  One can say, comfortably, of a strawberry, that it is a creeper, without expecting at the next moment to see a steeple of strawberry blossoms rise to contradict us;—­we can venture to say of a foxglove