Found in abundance in summer time on our heaths, and on mountains
near the sea, this delicate little plant, the _Euphrasia
officinalis_, has been famous from earliest times for restoring and
preserving the eyesight. The Greeks named the herb originally
from the linnet, which first made use of the leaf for clearing its
vision, and which passed on the knowledge to mankind. The
Greek word, _euphrosunee_, signifies joy and gladness. The elegant
little herb grows from two to six inches high, with deeply-cut
leaves, and numerous white or [176] purplish tiny flowers
variegated with yellow; being partially a parasite, and preying on
the roots of other plants. It belongs to the order of scrofula-curing
plants; and, as proved by positive experiment (H.), the Eyebright
has been recently found to possess a distinct sphere of curative
operation, within which it manifests virtues which are as
unvarying as they are truly potential. It acts specifically on the
mucous lining of the eyes and nose, and the uppermost throat to
the top of the windpipe, causing, when given so largely as to be
injurious, a profuse secretion from these parts; and, if given of
reduced strength, it cures the same troublesome symptoms when
due to catarrh.

An attack of cold in the head, with copious running from the eyes
and nose, may be aborted straightway by giving a dose of the
infusion (made with an ounce of the herb to a pint of boiling
water) every two hours; as, likewise, for hay fever. A medicinal
tincture (H.) is prepared from the whole plant with spirit of wine,
of which an admirably useful lotion may be made together with
rose water for simple inflammation of the eyes, with a bloodshot
condition of their outer coats. Thirty drops of the tincture should
be mixed with a wineglassful of rosewater for making this lotion,
which may be used several times in the day.

What precise chemical constituents occur in the Eyebright beyond
tannin, mannite, and glucose, are not yet recorded. In Iceland its
expressed juice is put into requisition for most ailments of the
eyes. Likewise, in Scotland, the Highlanders infuse the herb in
milk, and employ this for bathing weak, or inflamed eyes. In
France, the plant is named _Casse lunettes_; and in Germany,
_Augen trost_, or, consolation of the eye.

[177] Surely the same little herb must have been growing freely in
the hedge made famous by ancient nursery tradition:–

“Thessalus acer erat sapiens proe civibus unus
Qui medium insiluit spinets per horrida sepem.
Effoditque oculos sibi crudelissimus ambos.
Cum vero effosos orbes sine lumine vidit
Viribus enisum totis illum altera sepes
Accipit, et raptos oculos cito reddit egenti.”

“There was a man of Thessuly, and he was wondrous wise;
He jumped into a quick set hedge, and scratched out both his eyes;
Then, when he found his eyes were out, with all his might and main
He jumped into the quick set hedge, and scratched them in again.”

Old herbals pronounced it “cephalic, ophthalmic, and good for a
weak memory.” Hildamus relates that it restored the sight of many
persons at the age of seventy or eighty years. “Eyebright made into
a powder, and then into an electuary with sugar, hath,” says
Culpeper, “powerful effect to help and to restore the sight decayed
through years; and if the herb were but as much used as it is
neglected, it would have spoilt the trade of the maker.”

On the whole it is probable that the Eyebright will succeed best for
eyes weakened by long-continued straining, and for those which
are dim and watery from old age. Shenstone declared, “Famed
Euphrasy may not be left unsung, which grants dim eyes to
wander leagues around”; and Milton has told us in _Paradise
Lost_, Book XI:–

“To nobler sights
Michael from Adam’s eyes the film removed,
Then purged with _Euphrasy_ and rue
The visual nerve, for he had much to see.”

[178] The Arabians I mew the herb Eyebright under the name
_Adhil_, It now makes an ingredient in British herbal tobacco,
which is smoked most usefully for chronic bronchial colds.
Some sceptics do not hesitate to say that the Eyebright owes its
reputation solely to the fact that the tiny flower bears in its centre
a yellow spot, which is darker towards the middle, and gives a close
resemblance to the human eye; wherefore, on the doctrine of
signatures, it was pronounced curative of ocular derangements. The
present Poet Laureate speaks of the herb as:–

“The Eyebright this.
Whereof when steeped in wine I now must eat
Because it strengthens mindfulness.”

Grandmother Cooper, a gipsy of note for skill in healing, practised
the cure of inflamed and scrofulous eyes, by anointing them with
clay, rubbed up with her spittle, which proved highly successful.
Outside was applied a piece of rag kept wet with water in which a
cabbage had been boiled. As confirmatory of this cure, we read
reverently in the _Gospel of St. John_ about the man “which was
blind from his birth,” and for whose restoration to sight our Saviour
“spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and anointed the
eyes of the blind man with the clay.” More than one eminent oculist
has similarly advised that weak, ailing eyes should be daily wetted
on waking with the fasting saliva. And it is well known that
“mothers’ marks” of a superficial character, but even of a
considerable size, become dissipated by a daily licking with the
mother’s tongue. Old Mizaldus taught that “the fasting spittle of a
whole and sound person both quite taketh away all scurviness, or
redness of the face, ringworms, tetters, and all kinds [179] of
pustules, by smearing or rubbing the infected place therewith; and
likewise it clean puts away thereby all painful swelling by the
means of any venomous thing as hornets, spiders, toads, and such
like.” Healthy saliva is slightly alkaline, and contains sulphocyanate
of potassium.

“Elecampane,” writes William Coles, “is one of the plants whereof
England may boast as much as any, for there grows none better in
the world than in England, let apothecaries and druggists say what
they will.” It is a tall, stout, downy plant, from three to five feet
high, of the Composite order, with broad leaves, and bright,
yellow flowers. Campania is the original source of the plant
(_Enula campana_), which is called also Elf-wort, and Elf-dock.
Its botanical title is _Helenium inula_, to commemorate Helen of
Troy, from whose tears the herb was thought to have sprung, or
whose hands were full of the leaves when Paris carried her off
from Menelaus. This title has become corrupted in some districts
to Horse-heal, or Horse-hele, or Horse-heel, through a double,
blunder, the word _inula_ being misunderstood for _hinnula_, a
colt; and the term _Hellenium_ being thought to have something
to do with healing, or [173] heels; and solely on this account the
Elecampane has been employed by farriers to cure horses of scabs
and sore heels. Though found wild only seldom, and as a local
production in our copses and meadows, it is cultivated in our
gardens as a medicinal and culinary herb. The name _inula_ is
only a corruption of the Greek _elenium_; and the herb is of
ancient repute, having been described by Dioscorides. An old
Latin distich thus celebrates its virtues: _Enula campana reddit
proecordia sana_–”Elecampane will the spirits sustain.” “Julia
Augusta,” said Pliny, “let no day pass without eating some of the
roots of _Enula_ condired, to help digestion, and cause mirth.”

The _inula_ was noticed by Horace, _Satire_ viii., 51:–

“Erucos virides inulas ego primus amaras
Monstravi incoquere.”

Also the _Enula campana_ has been identified with the herb Moly
(of Homer), “_apo tou moleuein_, from its mitigating pain.”

Prior to the Norman Conquest, and during the Middle Ages, the
root of Elecampane was much employed in Great Britain as a
medicine; and likewise it was candied and eaten as a sweetmeat.
Some fifty years ago the candy was sold commonly in London, as
flat, round cakes, being composed largely of sugar, and coloured
with cochineal. A piece was eaten each night and morning for
asthmatical complaints, whilst it was customary when travelling
by a river to suck a bit of the root against poisonous exhalations
and bad air. The candy may be still had from our confectioners,
but now containing no more of the plant Elecampane than there is
of barley in barley sugar.

Gerard says: “The flowers of this herb are in all [174] their
bravery during June and July; the roots should be gathered in the
autumn. The plant is good for an old cough, and for such as cannot
breathe freely unless they hold their necks upright; also it is of
great value when given in a loch, which is a medicine to be licked
on. It voids out thick clammy humors, which stick in the chest and
lungs.” Galen says further: “It is good for passions of the
huckle-bones, called sciatica.” The root is thick and substantial,
having, when sliced, a fragrant aromatic odour.

Chemically, it contains a crystalline principle, resembling
camphor, and called “helenin”; also a starch, named “inulin,”
which is peculiar as not being soluble in water, alcohol, or ether;
and conjointly a volatile oil, a resin, albumen, and acetic acid.
Inulin is allied to starch, and its crystallized camphor is separable
into true helenin, and alantin camphor. The former is a powerful
antiseptic to arrest putrefaction. In Spain it is much used as a
surgical dressing, and is said to be more destructive than any other
agent to the bacillus of cholera. Helenin is very useful in
ulceration within the nose (_ozoena_), and in chronic bronchitis to
lessen the expectoration. The dose is from a third of a grain to two
grains.

Furthermore, Elecampane counteracts the acidity of gouty
indigestion, and regulates the monthly illnesses of women. The
French use it in the distillation of absinthe, and term it _l’aulnee,
d’un lieu plante d’aulnes ou elle se plait_. To make a decoction,
half-an-ounce of the root should be gently boiled for ten minutes
in a pint of water, and then allowed to cool. From one to two
ounces of this may be taken three times in the day. Of the
powdered root, from half to one teaspoonful may be given for a
dose.

[175] A medicinal tincture (H.) is prepared from the root, of
which thirty or forty drops may be taken for a dose, with two
tablespoonfuls of cold water; but too large a dose will induce
sickness. Elecampane is specifically curative of a sharp pain
affecting the right elbow joint, and recurring daily; also of a
congestive headache coming on through costiveness of the lowest
bowel. Moreover, at the present time, when there is so much talk
about the inoculative treatment of pulmonary consumption by the
cultivated virus of its special microbe, it is highly interesting to
know that the helenin of Elecampane is said to be peculiarly
destructive to the bacillus of tubercular disease.

In classic times the poet Horace told how Fundanius first taught
the making of a delicate sauce, by boiling in it the bitter _Inula_
(Elecampane); and how the Roman stomach, when surfeited with
an excess of rich viands, pined for turnips, and the appetising
_Enulas acidas_ from frugal Campania:–

“Quum rapula plenus
Atque acidas mavult inulas.”

“‘Arn,’ or the common Elder,” says Gerard, “groweth everywhere;
and it is planted about cony burrows, for the shadow of the
conies.” Formerly it was much [165] cultivated near our English
cottages, because supposed to afford protection against witches.
Hence it is that the Elder tree may be so often seen immediately
near old village houses. It acquired its name from the Saxon word
_eller_ or _kindler_, because its hollow branches were made into
tubes to blow through for brightening up a dull fire. By the Greeks
it was called _Aktee_. The botanical name of the Elder is
_Sambucus nigra_, from _sambukee_, a sackbut, because the
young branches, with their pith removed, were brought into
requisition for making the pipes of this, and other musical
instruments.

It was probably introduced as a medicinal plant at the time of the
Monasteries. The adjective term _nigra_ refers to the colour of the
berries. These are without odour, rather acid, and sweetish to the
taste. The French put layers of the flowers among apples, to which
they impart, an agreeable odour and flavour like muscatel. A tract
on _Elder and Juniper Berries, showing how useful they may be in
our Coffee Houses_, is published with the _Natural History of
Coffee_, 1682. Elder flowers are fatal to turkeys.

Hippocrates gave the bark as a purgative; and from his time the
whole tree has possessed a medicinal celebrity, whilst its fame in
the hands of the herbalist is immemorial. German writers have
declared it contains within itself a magazine of physic, and a
complete chest of medicaments.

The leaves when bruised, if worn in the hat, or rubbed on the face,
will prevent flies from settling on the person. Likewise turnips,
cabbages, fruit trees, or corn, if whipped with the branches and
green leaves of Elder, will gain an immunity from all depredations
of blight; but moths are fond of the blossom.

Dried Elder flowers have a dull yellow colour, being [166]
shrivelled, and possessing a sweet faint smell, unlike the repulsive
odour of the fresh leaves and bark. They have a somewhat bitter,
gummy taste, and are sold in entire cymes, with the stalks. An
open space now seen in Malvern Chase was formerly called
Eldersfield, from the abundance of Elder trees which grew there.
“The flowers were noted,” says Mr. Symonds, “for eye ointments,
and the berries for honey rob and black pigments. Mary of
Eldersfield, the daughter of Bolingbroke, was famous for her
knowledge of herb pharmacy, and for the efficacy of her nostrums.”

Chemically the flowers contain a yellow, odorous, buttery oil, with
tannin, and malates of potash and lime, whilst the berries furnish
viburnic acid. On expression they yield a fine purple juice, which
proves a useful laxative, and a resolvent in recent colds. Anointed
on the hair they make it black.

A medicinal tincture (H.) is made from the fresh inner bark of the
young branches. This, when given in toxical quantities, will induce
profuse sweating, and will cause asthmatic symptoms to present
themselves. When used in a diluted form it is highly beneficial for
relieving the same symptoms, if they come on as an attack of
illness, particularly for the spurious croup of children, which
wakes them at night with a suffocative cough and wheezing. A
dose of four or five drops, if given at once, and perhaps repeated
in fifteen minutes, will straightway prove of singular service.

Sir Thomas Browne said that in his day the Elder had become a
famous medicine for quinsies, sore throats, and strangulations.

The inspissated juice or “rob” extracted from the crushed berries,
and simmered with white sugar, is cordial, aperient, and diuretic.
This has long been a [167] popular English remedy, taken hot at
bed-time, when a cold is caught. One or two tablespoonfuls
are mixed with a tumblerful of very hot water. It promotes
perspiration, and is demulcent to the chest. Five pounds of the
fresh berries are to be used with one pound of loaf sugar, and the
juice should be evaporated to the thickness of honey.

“The recent rob of the Elder spread thick upon a slice of bread and
eaten before other dishes,” says Dr. Blochwich, 1760, “is our
wives’ domestic medicine, which they use likewise in their infants
and children whose bellies are stop’t longer than ordinary; for this
juice is most pleasant and familiar to children; or to loosen the
belly drink a draught of the wine at your breakfast, or use the
conserve of the buds.”

Also a capital wine, which may well pass for Frontignac, is
commonly made from the fresh berries, with raisins, sugar, and
spices. When well brewed, and three years’ old, it constitutes
English port. “A cup of mulled Elder wine, served with nutmeg
and sippets of toast, just before going to bed on a cold wintry
night, is a thing,” as Cobbet said, “to be run for.” The juice of
Elder root, if taken in a dose of one or two tablespoonfuls when
fasting, acts as a strong aperient, being “the most excellent purger
of watery humours in the world, and very singular against dropsy,
if taken once in the week.”

John Evelyn, in his _Sylva_ (1729), said of the Elder: “If the
medicinal properties of its leaves, bark, and berries, were fully
known, I cannot tell what our countrymen could ail, for which he
might not fetch a remedy from every hedge, either for sickness or
wounds.” “The buds boiled in water gruel have effected wonders in a
fever,” “and an extract composed [168] of the berries greatly
assists longevity. Indeed,”–so famous is the story of Neander–
“this is a catholicum against all infirmities whatever.” “The leaves,
though somewhat rank of smell, are otherwise, as indeed is the
entire shrub, of a very sovereign virtue. The springbuds are
excellently wholesome in pottage; and small ale, in which Elder
flowers have been infused, are esteemed by many so salubrious,
that this is to be had in most of the eating houses about our town.”

“It were likewise profitable for the scabby if they made a sallet of
those young buds, who in the beginning of the spring doe bud
forth together with those outbreakings and pustules of the skin,
which by the singular favour of nature is contemporaneous; these
being sometimes macerated a little in hot water, together with
oyle, salt, and vinegar, and sometimes eaten. It purgeth the belly,
and freeth the blood from salt and serous humours” (1760).
Further, “there be nothing more excellent to ease the pains of the
haemorrhoids than a fomentation made of the flowers of the Elder
and _Verbusie_, or Honeysuckle, in water or milk, for in a short
time it easeth the greatest pain.”

If the green leaves are warmed between two hot tiles, and applied
to the forehead, they will promptly relieve nervous headache. In
Germany the Elder is regarded with much respect. From its leaves
a fever drink is made; from its berries a sour preserve, and a
wonder-working electuary; whilst the moon-shaped clusters of its
aromatic flowers, being somewhat narcotic, are of service in
baking small cakes.

The Romans made use of the black Elder juice as a hair dye. From
the flowers a fragrant water is now distilled as a perfume; and a
gently stimulating ointment is prepared with lard for dressing
burns and [169] scalds. Another ointment, concocted from the
green berries, with camphor and lard, is ordered by the London
College as curative of piles. “The leaves of Elder boiled soft, and
with a little linseed oil added thereto, if then laid upon a piece of
scarlet or red cloth, and applied to piles as hot as this can be
suffered, being removed when cold, and replaced by one such
cloth after another upon the diseased part by the space of an hour,
and in the end some bound to the place, and the patient put warm
to bed. This hath not yet failed at the first dressing to cure the
disease, but if the patient be dressed twice, it must needs cure them
if the first fail.” The Elder was named _Eldrun_ and _Burtre_ by
the Anglo-Saxons. It is now called _Bourtree_ in Scotland, from
the central pith in the younger branches which children bore out so
as to make pop guns:–

“Bour tree–Bour tree: crooked rung,
Never straight, and never strong;
Ever bush, and never tree
Since our Lord was nailed on thee.”

The Elder is specially abundant in Kent around Folkestone. By the
Gauls it was called “Scovies,” and by the Britons “Iscaw.”

This is the tree upon which the legend represents Judas as having
hanged himself, or of which the cross was made at the crucifixion.
In _Pier’s Plowman’s Vision_ it is said:–

“Judas he japed with Jewen silver,
And sithen an eller hanged hymselve.”

Gerard says “the gelly of the Elder, otherwise called Jew’s ear,
taketh away inflammations of the mouth and throat if they be
washed therewith, and doth in like Manner help the uvula.” He
refers here to a fungus [170] which grows often from the trunk of
the Elder, and the shape of which resembles the human ear.
Alluding to this fungus, and to the supposed fact that the berries of
the Elder are poisonous to peacocks, a quaint old rhyme runs
thus:–

“For the coughe take Judas’ eare,
With the paring of a peare,
And drynke them without feare
If you will have remedy.”

“Three syppes for the hycocke,
And six more for the chycocke:
Thus will my pretty pycocke
Recover bye and bye.”

Various superstitions have attached themselves in England to the
Elder bush. The Tree-Mother has been thought to inhabit it; and it
has been long believed that refuge may be safely taken under an
Elder tree in a thunderstorm, because the cross was made
therefrom, and so the lightning never strikes it. Elder was formerly
buried with a corpse to protect it from witches, and even now at a
funeral the driver of the hearse commonly has his whip handle
made of Elder wood. Lord Bacon commended the rubbing of warts
with a green Elder stick, and then burying the stick to rot in
the mud. Brand says it is thought in some parts that beating with
an Elder rod will check the growth of boys. A cross made of the
wood if affixed to cow-houses and stables was supposed to protect
cattle from all possible harm.

Belonging to the order of _Caprifoliaceous_ (with leaves eaten by
goats) plants, the Elder bush grows to the size of a small tree,
bearing many white flowers in large flat umbels at the ends of the
branches. It gives off an unpleasant soporific smell, which is said
to prove harmful to those that sleep under its shade. Our summer
is [171] not here until the Elder is fully in flower, and it ends when
the berries are ripe. When taken together with the berries of Herb
Paris (four-leaved Paris) they have been found very useful in
epilepsy. “Mark by the way,” says _Anatomie of the Elder_
(1760), “the berries of Herb Paris, called by some Bear, or Wolfe
Grapes, is held by certain matrons as a great secret against
epilepsie; and they give them ever in an unequal number, as three,
five, seven, or nine, in the water of Linden tree flowers. Others also
do hang a cross made of the Elder and Sallow, mutually inwrapping
one another, about the children’s neck as anti-epileptick.”
“I learned the certainty of this experiment (Dr. Blochwich)
from a friend in Leipsick, who no sooner erred in diet but
he was seized on by this disease; yet after he used the Elder
wood as an amulet cut into little pieces, and sewn in a knot against
him, he was free.” Sheep suffering from the foot-rot, if able to get
at the bark and young shoots of an Elder tree, will thereby cure
themselves of this affection. The great Boerhaave always took off
his hat when passing an Elder bush. Douglas Jerrold once, at a
well-known tavern, ordered a bottle of port wine, which should be
“old, but not _Elder_.”

The _Dwarf Elder_ (_Sambucus ebulus_) is quite a different
shrub, which grows not infrequently in hedges and bushy places,
with a herbaceous stem from two to three feet high. It possesses a
smell which is less aromatic than that of the true Elder, and it
seldom brings its fruit to ripeness. A rob made therefrom is
actively purgative; one tablespoonful for a dose. The root, which
has a nauseous bitter taste, was formerly used in dropsies. A
decoction made from it, as well as from the inner bark, purges, and
promotes free urination.

[172] The leaves made into a poultice will resolve swellings and
relieve contusions. The odour of the green leaves will drive away
mice from granaries. To the Dwarf Elder have been given the
names Danewort, Danesweed, and Danesblood, probably because
it brings about a loss of blood called the “Danes,” or perhaps as a
corruption of its stated use _contra quotidianam_. The plant is also
known as Walewort, from _wal_–slanghter. It grows in great
plenty about Slaughterford, Wilts, where there was a noted
fight with the Danes; and a patch of it thrives on ground in
Worcestershire, where the first blood was drawn in the civil war
between the Parliament and the Royalists. Rumour says it will
only prosper where blood has been shed either in battle, or in
murder.

The term Dock is botanically a noun of multitude, meaning originally
a bundle of hemp, and corresponding to a similar word signifying a
flock. It became in early times applied to a wide-spread tribe of
broad-leaved wayside weeds. They all belong to the botanical order
of _Polygonaceoe_, or “many kneed” plants, because, like the wife
of Yankee Doodle, famous in song, they are “double-jointed;”
though he, poor man! expecting to find Mistress Doodle doubly
active in her household [158] duties, was, as the rhyme says,
“disappointed.” The name “Dock” was first applied to the _Arctium
Lappa_, or Bur-dock, so called because of its seed-vessels
becoming frequently entangled by their small hooked spines
in the wool of sheep passing along by the hedge-rows. Then
the title got to include other broad-leaved herbs, all of the Sorrel
kind, and used in pottage, or in medicine.

Of the Docks which are here recognized, some are cultivated, such
as Garden Rhubarb, and the Monk’s Rhubarb, or herb Patience, an
excellent pot herb; whilst others grow wild in meadows, and by
river sides, such as the round-leafed Dock (_Rumex obtusifolius_),
the sharp-pointed Dock (_Rumex acutus_), the sour Dock (_Rumex
acetosus_), the great water Dock (_Rumex hydrolapathum_),
and the bloody-veined Dock (_Rumex sanguineus_).

All these resemble our garden rhubarb more or less in their general
characteristics, and in possessing much tannin. Most of them
chemically furnish “rumicin,” or crysophanic acid, which is highly
useful in several chronic diseases of the skin among scrofulous
patients. The generic name of several Docks is _rumex_, from the
Hebrew _rumach_, a “spear”; others arc called _lapathum_, from
the Greek verb _lapazein_, to cleanse, because they act medicinally
as purgatives.

The common wayside Dock (_Rumex obtusifolius_) is the most
ordinary of all the Docks, being large and spreading, and so coarse
that cattle refuse to eat it. The leaves are often applied as a rustic
remedy to burns and scalds, and are used for dressing blisters.
Likewise a popular cure for nettle stings is to rub them with a
Dock leaf, saying at the same time:–

“Out nettle: in Dock;
Dock shall have a new smock.”

[159] or:

“Nettle out: Dock in;
Dock remove the nettle sting.”

A tea made from the root was formerly given for the cure of boils,
and the plant is frequently called Butterdock, because its leaves
are put into use for wrapping up butter. This Dock will not thrive
in poor worthless soil; but its broad foliage serves to lodge the
destructive turnip fly. The root when dried maybe added to tooth
powder.

It was under the broad leaf of a roadside Dock that Hop o’ My
Thumb, famous in nursery lore, sought refuge from a storm, and
was unfortunately swallowed whilst still beneath the leaf by a
passing hungry cow.

The herb Patience, or Monk’s Rhubarb (_Rumex alpinus_), a
Griselda among herbs, may be given with admirable effect in
pottage, as a domestic aperient, “loosening the belly, helping the
jaundice, and dispersing the tympany.” This grows wild in some
parts, by roadsides, and near cottages, but is not common except as
a cultivated herb ill the kitchen-garden, known as “Patience-dock.”
It is a remarkable fact that the toughest flesh-meat, if boiled with
the herb, or with other kindred docks, will become quite tender.
The name Patience, or Passions, was probably from the Italian
_Lapazio_, a corruption of _Lapathum_, which was mistaken for
_la passio_, the passion of Christ.

Our _Garden Rhubarb_ is a true Dock, and belongs to the “many-kneed,”
buckwheat order of plants. Its brilliant colouring is due to
varying states of its natural pigment (_chlorophyll_), in
combination with oxygen. For culinary purposes the stalk, or
petiole of the broad leaf, is used. Its chief nutrient property is
glucose, which is identical with grape-sugar. The agreeable taste
and odour of the [160] plant are not brought out until the leaf
stalks are cooked. It came originally from the Volga, and has been
grown in this country since 1573. The sour taste of the stalks is
due to oxalic acid, or rather to the acid oxalate of potash. This
combines with the lime elaborated in the system of a gouty person
(having an “oxalic acid” disposition), and makes insoluble and
injurious products which have to be thrown off by the kidneys as
oxalate crystals, with much attendant irritation of the general
system. Sorrel (_Rumex acetosus_) acts with such a person in just
the same way, because of the acid oxalate of potash which it
contains.

Garden Rhubarb also possesses albumen, gum, and mineral matters,
with a small quantity of some volatile essence. The proportion
of nutritive substance to the water and vegetable fibre is
very small. As an article of food it is objectionable for gouty
persons liable to the passage of highly coloured urine, which
deposits lithates and urates as crystals after it has cooled; and this
especially holds good if hard water, which contains lime, is drunk
at the same time.

The round-leaved Dock, and the sharp-pointed Dock, together
with the bloody-veined Dock (which is very conspicuous because
of its veins and petioles abounding in a blood-coloured juice),
make respectively with their astringent roots a useful infusion
against bleedings and fluxes; also with their leaves a decoction
curative of several chronic skin diseases.

The _Rumex acetosus_ (Sour Dock, or Sorrel), though likely to
disagree with gouty persons, nevertheless supplies its leaves as the
chief constituent of the _Soupe aux herbes_, which a French lady
will order for herself after a long and tiring journey. Its title is
derived as some think, from struma, because curative [161]
thereof. This Dock further bears the names of Sour sabs, Sour
grabs, Soursuds, Soursauce, Cuckoo sorrow, and Greensauce.
Because of their acidity the leaves make a capital dressing with
stewed lamb, veal, or sweetbread. Country people beat the herb to
a mash, and take it mixed with vinegar and sugar as a green sauce
with cold meat. When boiled by itself without water it serves as an
excellent accompaniment to roast goose or pork instead of apple
sauce. The root of Sorrel when dried has the singular property of
imparting a fine red colour to boiling water, and it is therefore
used by the French for making barley water look like red wine
when they wish to avoid giving anything of a vinous character to
the sick. In Ireland Sorrel leaves are eaten with fish, and with other
alkalescent foods. Because corrective of scrofulous deposits,
Sorrel is specially beneficial towards the cure of scurvy. Applied
externally the bruised leaves will purify foul ulcers. Says John
Evelyn in his noted _Acetaria _(1720), “Sorrel sharpens the
appetite, assuages heat, cools the liver and strengthens the heart; it
is an antiscorbutic, resisting putrefaction, and in the making of
sallets imparts a grateful quickness to the rest as supplying the
want of oranges and lemons. Together with salt it gives both the
name and the relish to sallets from the sapidity which renders not
plants and herbs only, but men themselves, and their conversations
pleasant and agreeable. But of this enough, and perhaps too much!
lest while I write of salts and sallets I appear myself insipid.”

The Wood Sorrel (_Oxalis acetosella_) is a distinct plant from the
Dock Sorrel, and is not one of the _Polygonaceoe_, but a
geranium, having a triple leaf which is often employed to
symbolise the Trinity. Painters of old [162] placed it in the
foreground of their pictures when representing the crucifixion. The
leaves are sharply acid through oxalate of potash, commonly
called “Salts of Lemon,” which is quite a misleading name in its
apparent innocence as applied to so strong a poison. The petals are
bluish coloured, veined with purple. Formerly, on account of its
grateful acidity, a conserve was ordered by the London College to
be made from the leaves and petals of Wood Sorrel, with sugar
and orange peel, and it was called _Conserva lujuoe_.

The Burdock (_Arctium lappa_) grows very commonly in our
waste places, with wavy leaves, and round heads of purple
flowers, and hooked scales. From the seeds a medicinal tincture
(H.) is made, and a fluid extract, of which from ten to thirty drops,
given three times a day, with two tablespoonfuls of cold water,
will materially benefit certain chronic skin diseases (such as
psoriasis), if taken steadily for several weeks, or months. Dr.
Reiter of Pittsburg, U.S.A., says the Burdock feed has proved in
his hands almost a specific for psoriasis and for obstinate syphilis.
The tincture is of special curative value for treating that depressed
state of the general health which is associated with milky
phosphates in the urine, and much nervous debility. Eight or ten
drops of the reduced tincture should be given in water three times
a day.

The root in decoction is an excellent remedy for other skin
diseases of the scaly, itching, vesicular, pimply and ulcerative
characters. Many persons think it superior to Sarsaparilla. The
burs of this Dock are sometimes called “Cocklebuttons,” or
“Cucklebuttons,” and “Beggarsbuttons.” Its Anglo-Saxon name
was “Fox’s clote.”

Boys throw them into the air at dusk to catch bats, which dart at
the Bur in mistake for a moth or fly; [163] then becoming
entangled with the thorny spines they fall helplessly to the ground.
Of the botanical names, _Arctium_ derived from _arktos_, a bear, in
allusion to the roughness of the burs; and _Lappa_ is from
_labein_, to seize. Other appellations of the herb are Clot-bur
(from sticking to clouts, or clothes), Clithe, Hurbur, and Hardock.
The leaves when applied externally are highly resolvent for
tumours, bruises, and gouty swellings. In the _Philadelphia
Recorder_ for January, 1893, a striking case is given of a fallen
womb cured after twenty years’ duration by a decoction of
Burdock roots. The liquid extract acts as an admirable remedy in
some forms (strumous) of longstanding indigestion. The roots
contain starch; and the ashes of the plant burnt when green yield
carbonate of potash abundantly, with nitre, and inulin.

The Yellow Curled Dock (_Rumex crispus_), so called because its
leaves are crisped at their edges, grows freely in our roadside
ditches, and waste places, as a common plant; and a medicinal
tincture which is very useful (H.) is made from it before it flowers.
This is of particular service for giving relief to an irritable
tickling cough of the upper air-tubes, and the throat, when these
passages are rough and sore, and sensitive to the cold atmosphere,
with a dry cough occurring in paroxysms. It is likewise excellent for
dispelling any obstinate itching of the skin, in which respect it was
singularly beneficial against the contagious army-itch which
prevailed during the last American war. It acts like Sarsaparilla
chiefly, for curing scrofulous skin affections and glandular
swellings. To be applied externally an ointment may be made by
boiling the root in vinegar until the fibre is softened, and by then
mixing the pulp with lard (to which some sulphur is [164] added at
times). In all such cases of a scrofulous sort from five to ten drops
of the tincture should be given two or three times a day with a
spoonful of cold water.

Rumicin is the active principle of the Yellow Curled Dock; and
from the root, containing chrysarobin, a dried extract is prepared
officinally, of which from one to four grains may be given for a
dose in a pill. This is useful for relieving a congested liver, as
well as for scrofulous skin diseases.

“Huds,” or the great Water Dock (_Rumex hydrolapathum_) is of
frequent growth on our river banks, bearing numerous green
flowers in leafless whorls, and being identical with the famous
_Herba Britannica_ of Pliny. This name does not denote British
origin, but is derived from three Teuton words, _brit_, to tighten:
_tan_, a tooth; and _ica_, loose; thus expressing its power of
bracing up loose teeth and spongy gums. Swedish ladies employ
the powdered root as a dentifrice; and gargles prepared therefrom
are excellent for sore throat and relaxed uvula. The fresh root must
be used, as it quickly turns yellow and brown in the air. The green
leaves make a capital application for ulcers of the legs. They
possess considerable acidity, and are laxative. Horace was aware
of this fact, as we learn by his _Sermonum, Libr_. ii., _Satir_ 4:–

“Si dura morabitur alvus,
Mytulus, et viles pellent, obstantia conchae,
Et Lapathi brevis herba, sed albo non sine Coo.”

Cordial waters distilled from the fragrant herb called Dill are, as
every mother and monthly nurse well know, a sovereign remedy
for wind in the infant; whilst they serve equally well to correct
flatulence in the grown up “gourmet.” This highly scented plant
(_Anethum graveolens_) is of Asiatic origin, growing wild also in
some parts of England, and commonly cultivated in our gardens
for kitchen or medicinal uses.

It “hath a little stalk of a cubit high, round, and joyned, whereupon
do grow leaves very finely cut, like to those of Fennel, but much
smaller.” The herb is of the umbelliferous order, and its fruit
chemically furnishes “anethol,” a volatile empyreumatic oil similar
to that contained in the Anise, and Caraway. Virgil speaks of the
Dill in his _Second Eclogue _as the _bene olens anethum_, “a
pleasant and fragrant plant.” Its seeds were formerly directed to be
used by the _Pharmacopoeias_ of London and Edinburgh. Forestus
extols them for allaying sickness and hiccough. Gerard says:
“Dill stayeth the yeox, or hicquet, as Dioscorides has taught.”

The name _Anethum _was a radical Greek term (_aitho_–to
burn), and the herb is still called Anet in some of our country
districts. The pungent essential oil which it yields consists of a
hydrocarbon, “carvene,” together with an oxygenated oil; It is a
“gallant expeller of the wind, and provoker of the terms.” “Limbs
that are swollen and cold if rubbed with the oil of Dill are much
eased; if not cured thereby.”

A dose of the essential oil if given for flatulent indigestion should
be from two to four drops, on sugar, or with a tablespoonful of
milk. Of the distilled water sweetened, one or two teaspoonfuls
may be given to an infant.

[157] The name Dill is derived from the Saxon verb _dilla_, to
lull, because of its tranquillizing properties, and its causing
children to sleep. This word occurs in the vocabulary of Oelfric,
Archbishop of Canterbury, tenth century. Dioscorides gave the oil
got from the flowers for rheumatic pains, and sciatica; also a
carminative water distilled from the fruit, for increasing the milk
of wet nurses, and for appeasing the windy belly-aches of babies.
He teaches that a teaspoonful of the bruised seeds if boiled in
water and taken hot with bread soaked therein, wonderfully helps
such as are languishing from hardened excrements, even though
they may have vomited up their faeces.

The plant is largely grown in the East Indies, where is known as
_Soyah_. Its fruit and leaves are used for flavouring pickles, and
its water is given to parturient women.

Drayton speaks of the Dill as a magic ingredient in Love potions;
and the weird gipsy, Meg Merrilies, crooned a cradle song at the
birth of Harry Bertram in it was said:–

“Trefoil, vervain, John’s wort, _Dill_,
Hinder witches of their will.”

Dates are the most wholesome and nourishing of all our imported
fruits. Children especially appreciate their luscious sweetness, as
afforded by an abundant sugar which is easily digested, and which
quickly repairs waste of heat and fat. With such a view, likewise,
doctors now advise dates for consumptive patients; also because
they soothe an irritable chest, and promote expectoration; whilst,
furthermore, they prevent costiveness. Dates are the fruit of the
Date palm (_Phoenix dactylifera_), or, Tree of Life.

In old English Bibles of the sixteenth century, the name Date-tree
is constantly given to the Palm, and the fruit thereof was the first
found by the Israelites when wandering in the Wilderness.

Oriental writers have attributed to this tree a certain semi-human
consciousness. The name _Phoenix_ was [153] bestowed on the
Date palm because a young shoot springs always from the withered
stump of an old decayed Date tree, taking the place of the
dead parent; and the specific term _Dactylifera_ refers to a fancied
resemblance between clusters of the fruit and the human fingers.

The Date palm is remarkably fond of water, and will not thrive
unless growing near it, so that the Arabs say: “In order to flourish,
its feet must be in the water, and its head in the fire (of a hot sun).”
Travellers across the desert, when seeing palm Dates in the
horizon, know that wells of water will be found near at hand: at
the same time they sustain themselves with Date jam.

In some parts of the East this Date palm is thought been the tree of
the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. It is mystically
represented as the tree of life in the sculptured foliage of early
French churches, and on the primitive mosaics found in the apses
of Roman Basilicas. Branches of this tree are carried about in
Catholic countries on Palm Sunday. Formerly Dates were sent to
England and elsewhere packed in mats from the Persian gulf; but
now they arrive in clean boxes, neatly laid, and free from duty; so
that a wholesome, sustaining, and palatable meal may be had for
one penny, if they are eaten with bread.

The Egyptian Dates are superior, being succulent and luscious
when new, but apt to become somewhat hard after Christmas.

The Dates, however, which surpass all others in their general
excellence, are grown with great care at Tafilat, two or three
hundred miles inland from Morocco, a region to which Europeans
seldom penetrate.

These Dates travel in small packages by camel, rail, and steamer,
being of the best quality, and highly valued. Their exportation is
prohibited by the African [154] authorities at Tafilat, unless the
fruit crop has been large enough to allow thereof after gathering
the harvest with much religious ceremony.

Dates of a second quality are brought from Tunis, being intermixed
with fragments of stalk and branch; whilst the inferior sorts
come in the form of a cake, or paste (_adjoue!_), being pressed
into baskets. In this shape they were tolerably common with us
in Tudor times, and were then used for medicinal purposes. Strutt
mentions a grocer’s bill delivered in 1581, in which occurs
the item of six pounds of dates supplied at a funeral for
two shillings; and we read that in 1821 the best kind of dates
cost five shillings a pound.

If taken as a portable refection by jurymen and others who may be
kept from their customary food Dates will prevent exhaustion, and
will serve to keep active the energies of mind and body. The fruit
should be selected when large and soft, being moist, and of a
reddish yellow colour outside, and not much wrinkled, whilst
having within a white membrane between the flesh and the stone.

Beads for rosaries are made in Barbary from Date stones turned in
a lathe; or when soaked in water for a couple of days the stones
may be given to cattle as a nutritious food, being first ground in a
mill. The fodder being astringent will serve by its tannin, which is
abundant, to cure or prevent looseness.

In a clever parody on Bret Harte’s “Heathen Chinee,” an undergraduate
is detected in having primed himself before examination thus:–

“Inscribed on his cuffs were the Furies, and Fates,
With a delicate map of the Dorian States:
Whilst they found in his palms, which were hollow,
What are common in Palms–namely, Dates.”

[155] Again, a conserve is prepared by the Egyptians from unripe
Dates whole with sugar. The soft stones are edible: and this jam,
though tasteless, is very nourishing. The Arabs say that Adam
when driven out of Paradise took with him three things–the Date,
chief of all fruits, Myrtle, and an ear of Wheat.

Another Palm–the _Sagus_, or, _Cycus revolute_,–which grows
naturally in Japan and the East Indian Islands, being also
cultivated in English hot-houses, yields by its gummy pith our
highly nutritious sago. This when cooked is one of the best and
most sustaining foods for children and infirm old persons. The
Indians reserve their finest sago for the aged and afflicted. A
fecula is washed from the abundant pith, which is chemically a
starch, very demulcent, and more digestible than that of rice. It
never ferments in the stomach, and is very suitable for hectic
persons. By the Arabs the pith of the Date-bearing Palm is eaten in
like manner. The simple wholesome virtues of this domestic
substance have been told of from childhood in the well-known
nursery rhyme, which has been playfully rendered into Latin and
French:–

“There was an old man of Iago
Whom they kept upon nothing but sago;
Oh! how he did jump when the doctor said plump:
‘To a roast leg of mutton you may go.’”

“Jamdudum senior quidam de rure Tobagus
Invito mad das carpserat ore dapes;
Sed medicus tandem non injucunda locutus:
‘Assoe’ dixit ‘oves sunt tibi coena, senex.’”

“J’ai entendu parler d’un veillard de Tobag
Qui ne mangea longtemps que du ris et du sague;
Mais enfin le medecin lui dit ces mots:
‘Allez vous en, mon ami, au gigot.’”

Owing to long years of particular evolutionary sagacity in
developing winged seeds to be wafted from the silky pappus of its
ripe flowerheads over wide areas of land, [148] the Dandelion
exhibits its handsome golden flowers in every field and on every
ground plot throughout the whole of our country. They are to be
distinguished from the numerous hawkweeds, by having the
outermost leaves of their exterior cup bent downwards whilst the
stalk is coloured and shining. The plant-leaves have jagged edges
which resemble the angular jaw of a lion fully supplied with teeth;
or, some writers say, the herb has been named from the heraldic
lion which is vividly yellow, with teeth of gold-in fact, a dandy
lion! Again, the flower closely resembles the sun, which a lion
represents. It is called by some Blowball, Time Table, and Milk
“Gowan” (or golden).

“How like a prodigal does Nature seem,
When thou with all thy gold so common art.”

In some of our provinces the herb is known as Wiggers, and
Swinesnout; whilst again in Devon and Cornwall it is called the
Dashelflower. Botanically it belongs to the composite order, and is
named _Taraxacum Leontodon_, or eatable, and lion-toothed. This
latter when Latinised is _dens leonis_, and in French _dent de
lion_. The title Taraxacum is an Arabian corruption of the Greek
_trogimon_, “edible”; or it may have been derived from the Greek
_taraxos_, “disorder,” and _akos_, “remedy.” It once happened
that a plague of insects destroyed the harvest in the island of
Minorca, so that the inhabitants had to eat the wild produce of the
country; and many of them then subsisted for some while entirely
on this plant. The Dandelion, which is a wild sort of Succory, was
known to Arabian physicians, since Avicenna of the eleventh
century mentions it as _taraxacon_. It is found throughout Europe,
Asia, and North America; possessing a root which abounds with
milky juice, and [149] this varying in character according to the
time of year in which the plant is gathered.

During the winter the sap is thick, sweet, and albuminous; but in
summer time it is bitter and acrid. Frost causes the bitterness to
diminish, and sweetness to take its place; but after the frost this
bitterness returns, and is intensified. The root is at its best for
yielding juice about November. Chemically the active ingredients
of the herb are taraxacin, and taraxacerine, with inulin (a sort of
sugar), gluten, gum, albumen, potash, and an odorous resin, which
is commonly supposed to stimulate the liver, and the biliary
organs. Probably this reputed virtue was assigned at first to the
plant largely on the doctrine of signatures, because of its bright
yellow flowers of a bilious hue. But skilled medical provers who
have experimentally tested the toxical effects of the Dandelion
plant have found it to produce, when taken in excess, troublesome
indigestion, characterized by a tongue coated with a white skin
which peels off in patches, leaving a raw surface, whilst the
kidneys become unusually active, with profuse night sweats and
an itching nettle rash. For these several symptoms when occurring
of themselves, a combination of the decoction, and the medicinal
tincture will be invariably curative.

To make a decoction of the root, one part of this dried, and sliced,
should be gently boiled for fifteen minutes in twenty parts of
water, and strained off when cool. It may be sweetened with
brown sugar, or honey, if unpalatable when taken alone, several
teacupfuls being given during the day. Dandelion roots as
collected for the market are often adulterated with those of the
common Hawkbit (_Leontodon hispidus_); but these are more
tough and do not give out any milky juice.

[150] The tops of the roots dug out of the ground, with the tufts of
the leaves remaining thereon, and blanched by being covered in
the earth as they grow, if gathered in the spring, are justly
esteemed as an excellent vernal salad. It was with this homely fare
the good wise Hecate entertained Theseus, as we read in Evelyn’s
_Acetaria_. Bergius says he has seen intractable cases of liver
congestion cured, after many other remedies had failed, by the
patients taking daily for some months, a broth made from
Dandelion roots stewed in boiling water, with leaves of Sorrel, and
the yelk of an egg; though (he adds) they swallowed at the same
time cream of tartar to keep their bodies open.

Incidentally with respect to the yelk of an egg, as prescribed here,
it is an established fact that patients have been cured of obstinate
jaundice by taking a raw egg on one or more mornings while
fasting. Dr. Paris tells us a special oil is to be extracted from the
yelks (only) of hard boiled eggs, roasted in pieces in a frying pan
until the oil begins to exude, and then pressed hard. Fifty eggs well
fried will yield about five ounces of this oil, which is acrid, and so
enduringly liquid that watch-makers use it for lubricating the axles
and pivots of their most delicate wheels. Old eggs furnish the oil
most abundantly, and it certainly acts as a very useful medicine for
an obstructed liver. Furthermore the shell, when finely triturated,
has served by its potentialised lime to cure some forms of cancer.
Sweet are the uses of adversity! even such as befell the egg
symbolised by Humpty-Dumpty:–

“Humptius in muro requievit Dumptius alto,
Humptius e muro Dumptius–heu! cecidit!
Sed non Regis equi, Reginae exercitus omnis
Humpti, te, Dumpti, restituere loco.”

[151] The medicinal tincture of Dandelion is made from the entire
plant, gathered in summer, employing proof spirit which dissolves
also the resinous parts not soluble in water. From ten to fifteen
drops of this tincture may be taken with a spoonful of water three
times in the day.

Of the freshly prepared juice, which should not be kept long as it
quickly ferments, from two to three teaspoonfuls are a proper
dose. The leaves when tender and white in the spring are taken on
the Continent in salads or they are blanched, and eaten with bread
and butter. Parkinson says: “Whoso is drawing towards a
consumption, or ready to fall into a cachexy, shall find a
wonderful help from the use thereof, for some time together.”
Officially, according to the London College, are prepared from the
fresh dried roots collected in the autumn, a decoction (one ounce
to a pint of boiling water), a juice, a fresh extract, and an
inspissated liquid extract.

Because of its tendency to provoke involuntary urination at night,
the Dandelion has acquired a vulgar suggestive appellation which
expresses this fact in most homey terms: _quasi herba lectiminga,
et urinaria dicitur_: and this not only in our vernacular, but in most
of the European tongues: _quia plus lotii in vesicam derivat quam
puerulis retineatur proesertim inter dormiendum, eoque tunc
imprudentes et inviti stragula permingunt_.

At Gottingen, the roots are roasted and used instead of coffee by
the poorer folk; and in Derbyshire the juice of the stalk is applied
to remove warts. The flower of the Dandelion when fully blown is
named Priest’s Crown (_Caput monachi_), from the resemblance
of its naked receptacle after the winged seeds have been all blown
away, to the smooth shorn head of a Roman [152] cleric. So
Hurdis sings in his poem _The Village Curate_:–

“The Dandelion this:
A college youth that flashes for a day
All gold: anon he doffs his gaudy suit,
Touched by the magic hand of Bishop grave,
And all at once by commutation strange
Becomes a reverend priest: and then how sleek!
How full of grace! with silvery wig at first
So nicely trimmed, which presently grows bald.
But let me tell you, in the pompous globe
Which rounds the Dandelion’s head is fitly couched
Divinity most rare.”

Boys gather the flower when ripe, and blow away the hall of its
silky seed vessels at the crown, to learn the time of day, thus
sportively making:–

“Dandelion with globe of down
The school-boy’s clock in every town.”

Our English Daisy is a composite flower which is called in the
glossaries “gowan,” or Yellow flower. Botanically [144] it is
named _Bellis perennis_, probably from _bellis_, “in fields of
battle,” because of its fame in healing the wounds of soldiers; and
perennis as implying that though “the rose has but a summer reign,
the daisy never dies,” The flower is likewise known as “Bainwort,”
“beloved by children,” and “the lesser Consound.” The whole plant
has been carefully and exhaustively proved for curative purposes;
and a medicinal tincture (H.) is now made from it with spirit of
wine. Gerard says: “Daisies do mitigate all kinds of pain,
especially in the joints, and gout proceeding from a hot humour, if
stamped with new butter and applied upon the pained place.” And,
“The leaves of Daisies used among pot herbs do make the belly
soluble.” Pliny tells us the Daisy was used in his time with
Mugwort as a resolvent to scrofulous tumours.

The leaves are acrid and pungent, being ungrateful to cattle, and
even rejected by geese. These and the flowers, when chewed
experimentally, have provoked giddiness and pains in the arms as
if from coming boils: also a development of boils, “dark, fiery, and
very sore,” on the back of the neck, and outside the jaws. For
preventing, or aborting these same distressing formations when
they begin to occur spontaneously, the tincture of Daisies should
be taken in doses of five drops three times a day in water.
Likewise this medicine should be given curatively on the principle
of affinity between it and the symptoms induced in provers who
have taken the same in material toxic doses, “when the brain is
muddled, the sight dim, the spirits soon depressed, the temper
irritable, the skin pimply, the heart apt to flutter, and the whole
aspect careworn; as if from early excesses.” Then the infusion of
the plant in tablespoonful doses, or the diluted tincture, will
answer admirably [145] to renovate and re-establish the health and
strength of the sufferer.

The flowers and leaves are found to afford a considerable quantity
of oil and of ammoniacal salts. The root was named _Consolida
minima _by older physicians. Fabricius speaks of its efficacy in
curing wounds and contusions. A decoction of the leaves and
flowers was given internally, and the bruised herb blended with
lard was applied outside. “The leaves stamped do take away
bruises and swellings, whereupon, it was called in old time
Bruisewort.” If eaten as a spring salad, or boiled like spinach, the
leaves are pungent, and slightly laxative.

Being a diminutive plant with roots to correspond, the Daisy, on
the doctrine of signatures, was formerly thought to arrest the
bodily growth if taken with this view. Therefore its roots boiled in
broth were given to young puppies so as to keep them of a small
size. For the same reason the fairy Milkah fed her foster child on
this plant, “that his height might not exceed that of a pigmy”:–

“She robbed dwarf elders of their fragrant fruit,
And fed him early with the daisy-root,
Whence through his veins the powerful juices ran,
And formed the beauteous miniature of man.”

“Daisy-roots and cream” were prescribed by the fairy godmothers
of our childhood to stay the stature of those gawky youngsters
who were shooting up into an ungainly development like “ill
weeds growing apace.”

Daisies were said of old to be under the dominion of Venus, and
later on they were dedicated to St. Margaret of Cortona. Therefore
they were reputed good for the special-illnesses of females. It is
remarkable there is no [146] Greek word for this plant, or flower.
Ossian the Gaelic poet feigns that the Daisy, whose white
investments figure innocence, was first “sown above a baby’s
grave by the dimpled hands of infantine angels.”

During mediaeval times the Daisy was worn by knights at a
tournament as an emblem of fidelity. In his poem the _Flower and
the Leaf_, Chaucer, who was ever loud in his praises of the “Eye
of Day”–”empresse and floure of floures all,” thus pursues his
theme:–

“And at the laste there began anon
A lady for to sing right womanly
A bargaret in praising the Daisie:
For–as methought among her notes sweet,
She said, ‘_Si doucet est la Margarete_.’”

The French name _Marguerite _is derived from a supposed resemblance
of the Daisy to a pearl; and in Germany this flower is known
as the Meadow Pearl. Likewise the Greek word for a pearl is
_Margaritos_.

A saying goes that it is not Spring until a person can put his foot
on twelve of these flowers. In the cultivated red Daisies used for
bordering our gardens, the yellow central boss of each compound
flower has given place to strap-shaped florets like the outer rays,
and without pollen, so that the entire flower consists of this purple
inflorescence. But such aristocratic culture has made the blossom
unproductive of seed. Like many a proud and belted Earl, each of
the pampered and richly coloured Daisies pays the penalty of its
privileged luxuriance by a disability from perpetuating its species.

The Moon Daisy, or Oxeye Daisy (_Leucanthemum Orysanthemum_),
St. John’s flower, belonging to the same tribe of plants,
grows commonly with an erect stem about two feet high, in
dry pastures and roads, bearing large solitary flowers which are
balsamic and make a [147] useful infusion for relieving chronic
coughs, and for bronchial catarrhs. Boiled with some of the leaves
and stalks they form, if sweetened with honey, or barley sugar, an
excellent posset drink for the same purpose. In America the root is
employed successfully for checking the night sweats of pulmonary
consumption, a fluid extract thereof being made for this object, the
dose of which is from fifteen to sixty drops in water.

The Moon Daisy is named Maudlin-wort from St. Mary Magdalene,
and bears its lunar name from the Grecian goddess of the
moon, Artemis, who particularly governed the female health.
Similarly, our bright little Daisy, “the constellated flower that
never sets,” owns the name Herb Margaret. The Moon Daisy is
also called Bull Daisy, Gipsies’ Daisy, Goldings, Midsummer
Daisy, Mace Flinwort, and Espilawn. Its young leaves are
sometimes used as a flavouring in soups and stews. The flower
was compared to the representation of a full moon, and was
formerly dedicated to the Isis of the Egyptians. Tom Hood wrote
of a traveller estranged far from his native shores, and walking
despondently in a distant land:–

“When lo! he starts with glad surprise,
Home thoughts come rushing o’er him,
For, modest, wee, and crimson-tipped
A flower he sees before him.
With eager haste he stoops him down,
His eyes with moisture hazy;
And as he plucks the simple bloom
He murmurs, ‘Lawk, a Daisy’”!

The yellow Daffodil, which is such a favourite flower of our early
Spring because of its large size, and showy yellow color, grows
commonly in English woods, fields, and orchards. Its popular
names, Daffodowndilly, Daffodily, and Affodily, bear reference to
the Asphodel, with which blossom of the ancient Greeks this is
identical. It further owns the botanical name of Narcissus
(pseudo-narcissus)–not after the classical youth who met with his
death through vainly trying to embrace his image reflected in a clear
stream because of its exquisite beauty, and who is fabled to have
been therefore changed into flower–but by reason of the narcotic
properties which the plant possesses, as signified by the Greek
word, _Narkao_, “to benumb.” Pliny described it as a _Narce
narcisswm dictum, non a fabuloso puero_. An extract of the bulbs
when applied to open wounds has produced staggering, numbness
of the whole nervous system, and paralysis of the heart. Socrates
called this plant the “Chaplet of the Infernal Gods,” because of its
[142] narcotic effects. Nevertheless, the roots of the asphodel were
thought by the ancient Greeks to be edible, and they were
therefore laid in tombs as food for the dead. Lucian tells us that
Charon, the ferryman who rowed the souls of the departed over the
river Styx, said: “I know why Mercury keeps us waiting here so
long. Down in these regions there is nothing to be had but,
asphodel, and oblations, in the midst of mist and darkness;
whereas up in heaven he finds it all bright and clear, with
ambrosia there, and nectar in plenty.”

In the Middle Ages the roots of the Daffodil were called _Cibi
regis_, “food for a king,”; but his Majesty must have had a
disturbed night after partaking thereof, as they are highly
stimulating to the kidneys: indeed, there is strong reason for
supposing that these roots have a prior claim to those of the
dandelion for lectimingous fame, (_lectus_, “the bed”; _mingo_, to
“irrigate”).

The brilliant yellow blossom of the Daffodil possesses, as is well
known, a bell-shaped crown in the midst of its petals, which is
strikingly characteristic. The flower-stalk is hollow, bearing on its
summit a membranous sheath, which envelops a single flower of
an unpleasant odour. But the Jonquil, which is a cultivated variety
of the Daffodil, having white petals with a yellow crown, yields a
delicious perfume, which modern chemistry can closely imitate by
a hydrocarbon compound. If “naphthalin,” a product of coal tar oil,
has but the smallest particle of its scent diffused in a room, the
special aroma of jonquil and narcissus is at once perceived.

When the flowers of the Daffodil are dried in the sun, if a
decoction of them is made, from fifteen to thirty grains will prove
emetic like that of Ipecacuanha. From five to six ounces of boiling
water should be poured on this quantity of the dried [143] flowers,
and should stand for twenty minutes. It will then serve most
usefully for relieving the congestive bronchial catarrh of children,
being sweetened, and given one third at a time every ten or fifteen
minutes until it provokes vomiting. It is also beneficial in this way,
but when given less often, for epidemic dysentery.

The chemical principles of the Daffodil have not been investigated;
but a yellow volatile oil of disagreeable odour, and a brown
colouring matter, have been got from the flowers.

Arabians commended this oil to be applied for curing baldness,
and for stimulating the sexual organs.

Herrick alludes in his _Hesperides_ to the Daffodil as death:–

“When a Daffodil I see
Hanging down its head towards me,
Guess I may what I must be–
First I shall decline my head;
Secondly I shall be dead;
Lastly, safely buried.”

Daffodils, popularly known in this country as Lent Lilies, are
called by the French _Pauvres filles de Sainte Clare_. The name
_Junquillo_ is the Spanish diminutive of _Junco_, “the rush,” and
is given to the jonquil because of its slender rush-like stem. From
its fragrant flowers a sweet-smelling yellow oil is obtained.

The medicinal influence of the daffodil on the nervous System has
led to giving its flowers and its bulb for Hysterical affections, and
even epilepsy, with benefit.

The original Currants in times past were small grapes, grown in
Greece at Zante, near Corinth, and termed Corinthians; then they
became Corantes, and eventually Currants. But, as an old Roman
proverb pertinently said: _Non cuivis homini contingit adire
Corinthum_, “It was not for everyone to visit fashionable
Corinth.” And therefore the name of Currants became transferred
in the Epirus to certain small fruit of the Gooseberry order which
closely resembled the grapes of Zante, but were identical rather
with the Currants of our modern kitchen gardens, such as we now
use for making puddings, pies, jams, and jellies. The bushes which
produce this fruit grow wild in the Northern part, of Great Britain,
and belong to the Saxifrage order of plants. The wild Red Currant
bears small berries which are intensely acid. In modern Italy
basketsful are gathered in the woods of the Apennines, and the
Alps.

Currants are not mentioned in former Greek or Roman literature,
nor do they seem to have been cultivated by the Anglo-Saxons, or
the Normans. Our several sorts [138] of Currants afford a striking
illustration of the mode which their parent bushes have learnt to
adopt so as to attract by their highly coloured fruits the birds
which shall disperse their seeds. These colours are not developed
until the seed is ripe for germination; because if birds devoured
them prematurely the seed would fall inert. But simultaneously
come the ripeness and the soft sweet pulp, and the rich colouring,
so that the birds may be attracted to eat the fruit, and spread the
seed in their droppings. Zeuxis, a famous Sicilian painter four
hundred years before Christ, depicted currants and grapes with
such fidelity that birds came and tried to peck them out from his
canvas.

White Currants are the most simple in kind; and the Red are a step
in advance. If equal parts of either fruit and of sugar are put over
the fire, the liquid which separates spontaneously will make a very
agreeable jelly because of the “pectin” with which it is chemically
furnished. Nitric acid will convert this pectin into oxalic acid, or
salts of sorrel. The juice of Red Currants also contains malic and
citric acids, which are cooling and wholesome. In the Northern
counties this red Currant is called Wineberry, or Garnetberry, from
its rich ruddy colour, and transparency. Its sweetened juice is a
favourable drink in Paris, being preferred there to the syrup of
_orgeat _(almonds). When made into a jelly with sugar the juice of
red Currants is excellent in fevers, and acts as an anti-putrescent;
as likewise if taken at table with venison, or hare, or other “high”
meats. This fruit especially suits persons of sanguine temperament.
Both red and white Currants are without doubt trustworthy
remedies in most forms of obstinate visceral obstruction, and they
correct impurities of the blood, being certainly antiseptic.

[139] The black Currant is found growing wild in England, for the
most part by the edges of brooks, and in moist grounds, from
mid-Scotland southwards. Throughout Sussex and Kent the shrub is
called “Gazles” as corrupted from the French _Groseilles_
(Gooseberries). The fruit is cooling, laxative, and anodyne. Its
thickened juice concocted over the fire, with, or without sugar,
formed a “rob” of Old English times. The black Currant is often
named by our peasantry “Squinancy,” or “Quinsyberry,” because a
jelly prepared therefrom has been long employed for sore throat
and quinsy. The leaf glands of its young leaves secrete from their
under surface a fragrant odorous fluid. Therefore if newly
gathered, and infused for a moment in very hot water and then
dried, the leaves make an excellent substitute for tea; also these
fresh leaves when applied to a gouty part will assuage pain, and
inflammation. They are used to impart the flavour of brandy to
common spirit. Bergius called the leaf, _mundans, pellens, et
diuretica_. Botanically the black Currant, _Ribes nigrum_, belongs
to the Saxifrage tribe, this generic term Ribes being applied to all
fresh currants, as of Arabian origin, and signifying acidity.
Grocers’ currants come from the Morea, being small grapes dried
in the sun, and put in heaps to cake together. Then they are dug out
with a crow-bar, and trodden into casks for exportation. Our
national plum pudding can no more be made without these currants
than “little Tom Tucker who for his supper, could cut his
bread without any knife or could find himself married without any
wife.” Former cooks made an odd use of grocers’ currants,
according to King, a poet of the middle ages, who says:–

“They buttered currants on fat veal bestowed,
And rumps of beef with virgin honey strewed.”

[140] On the kitchen Currant a riddling rhyme was long ago to be
found in the _Children’s Book of Conundrums_:–

“Higgledy-piggledy, here I lie
Picked and plucked, and put in a pie;
My first is snapping, snarling, growling;
My second noisy, ramping, prowling.”

Eccles cakes are delicious Currant sandwiches which are very
popular in Manchester.

Black Currant jelly should not be made with too much sugar, else
its medicinal-virtues will be impaired. A teaspoonful of this jelly
may be given three or four times in the day to a child with thrush.
In Russia the leaves of the black Currant are employed to fabricate
brandy made with a coarse spirit. These leaves and the fruit are
often combined by our herbalists with the seeds of the wild carrot
for stimulating the kidneys in passive dropsy. A medicinal wine is
also brewed from the fruit together with honey. In this country we
use a decoction of the leaf, or of the bark as a gargle. In Siberia
black Currants grow as large as hazel nuts. Both the black and the
red Currants afford a pleasant home-made wine. _Ex eo optimum
vinum fieri potest non deterius vinis vetioribus viteis_, wrote
Haller in 1750. White Currants, however, yield the best wine, and
this may be improved by keeping, even for twenty years. Dr.
Thornton says: “I have used old wine of white Currants for
calculous affections, and it has surpassed all expectation.”

A delicate jelly is made from the red Currant at Bas-le-duc; and a
well-known nursery rhyme tells of the tempting qualities of
“cherry pie, and currant wine.” A rob of black Currant jam is taken
in Scotland with whiskey toddy. Shakespeare in the _Winter’s
Tale_ makes Antolycus, the shrewd “picker-up of unconsidered
[141] trifles” talk of buying for the sheep-shearing feast “three
pounds of sugar, five pounds of currants, and rice.” In France a
cordial called _Liqueur de cassis_ is made from black Currants;
and a refreshing drink, _Eau de groseilles_, from the red.

Some forty years ago, at the time of the Crimean war a patriotic
song in praise of the French flag was most popular in our streets,
and had for its refrain, “Hurrah for the Red, White, and Blue!” So
valuable for food and physics are our tricoloured Currants that the
same argot may be justly paraphrased in their favour, with a
well-merited eulogium of “Hurrah for the White, Red, Black!”