XI. VIOLA CORNUTA. Cow Violet. Enough described already.

XII. VIOLA RUPESTRIS. Crag Violet. On the high limestone moors of
Yorkshire, perhaps only an English form of Viola Aurea, but so much larger,
and so different in habit--growing on dry breezy downs, instead of in
dripping caves--that I allow it, for the present, separate name and
number.[8]

42. 'For the present,' I say all this work in 'Proserpina' being merely
tentative, much to be modified by future students, and therefore quite
different from that of 'Deucalion,' which is authoritative as far as it
reaches, and will stand out like a quartz dyke, as the sandy speculations
of modern gossiping geologists get washed away.

But in the meantime, I must again solemnly warn my girl-readers against all
study of floral genesis and digestion. How far flowers invite, or require,
flies to interfere in their family affairs--which of them are
carnivorous--and what forms of pestilence or infection are most favourable
to some vegetable and animal growths,--let them leave the people to settle
who like, as Toinette says of the Doctor in the 'Malade Imaginaire'--"y
mettre le nez." I observe a paper in the last 'Contemporary Review,'
announcing for a discovery patent to all mankind that the colours of
flowers were made "to attract insects"![9] They will next hear that the
rose was made for the canker, and the body of man for the worm.

43. What the colours of flowers, or of birds, or of precious stones, or of
the sea and air, and the blue mountains, and the evening and the morning,
and the clouds of Heaven, were given for--they only know who can see them
and can feel, and who pray that the sight and the love of them may be
prolonged, where cheeks will not fade, nor sunsets die.