Part 7 (2/2)

My dear Susie, if I were to think really _lost_, what you for instance have new found in your own powers of receiving and giving pleasure, the beautiful faculties you have, scarcely venturing even to show the consciousness of them, when it awakes in you, what a woeful conception I should have of G.o.d's not caring for us. He will gather all the wheat into His garner.

INGLETON, _17th January_ (1878).

It's a charming post here, and brings me my letters the first thing in the morning; and I took care to tell n.o.body where I was going, except people I wanted to hear from. What a little busy bee of a Susie you've been to get all those extracts ready by this time. I've got nothing done all the while I've been away, but a few mathematical figures, and the less I do the less I find I can do it; and yesterday, for the first time these twenty years at least, I hadn't so much as a ”plan”

in my head all day. But I had a lot to look at in the moorland flowers and quiet little ancient Yorks.h.i.+re farmhouses, not to speak of Ingleborough, who was, I think, a little depressed because he knew you were only going to send your remembrances and not your love to him.

The clouds gathered on his brow occasionally in a fretful manner, but towards evening he resumed his peace of mind and sends you his ”remembrances” and his ”blessing.” I believe he saves both you and me from a great deal of east wind.

Well, I've got a plan in my head _this_ morning for the new extracts.

Shall we call them ”Lapides (or ”Marmora”) Portici”; and put a little preface to them about the pavement of St. Mark's porch and its symbolism of what the education of a good man's early days must be to him? I think I can write something a little true and trustworthy about it.

_26th November._

I have entirely resigned all hope of ever thanking you rightly for bread, sweet odors, roses and pearls, and must just allow myself to be fed, scented, rose-garlanded and bepearled as if I were a poor little pet dog or pet pig. But my cold is better, and I _am_ getting on with this botany; but it is really too important a work to be pushed for a week or a fortnight. And Mary and you will be pleased at last, I am sure.

I have only to-day got my four families, Clarissa, Lychnis, Scintilla, and Mica, perfectly and simply defined.[25] See how nicely they come.

A. Clarissa changed from Dianthus, which is bad Greek (and all my pretty flowers have names of girls). Petal _jagged_ at the outside.

B. Lychnis. Petal _divided in two_ at the outside, and the fringe retired to the top of the limb.

C. Scintilla. (Changed from Stellaria, because I want Stella for the house leeks.) Petal formed by the _two_ lobes of lychnis without the retired fringe.

D. Mica. _Single_ lobed petal.

When once these four families are well understood in typical examples, how easy it will be to attach either subordinate groups or specialities of habitat, as in America, to some kinds of them! The entire order, for their purity and wildness, are to be named, from Artemis, ”Artemides”, instead of Caryophyllaceae; and next them come the Vestals (mints, lavenders, etc.); and then the Cytheride Viola, Veronica, Giulietta, the last changed from Polygala.

That third Herb Robert one is just the drawing that n.o.body but me (never mind grammar) could have made. n.o.body! because it means ever so much careful watching of the ways of the leaf, and a lot of work in cramp perspective besides. It is not quite right yet, but it _is_ nice.

[Footnote 25: ”Proserpina,”]

It is so nice to be able to find anything that is in the least new to _you_, and interesting; my rocks are quite proud of rooting that little saxifrage.

I'm scarcely able to look at one flower because of the two on each side, in my garden just now. I want to have bees' eyes, there are so many lovely things.

I must tell you, interrupting my botanical work this morning, something that has just chanced to me.

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