THE AMERICAN BOTANIST 53 



sjj^t)p. Some ]\Ialiala Mary has thriftly used her woven ware 

 against the time of its selHng. The tang of yarrow- is the 

 basket's predominating smell. 



Most children cast it out of their wild flower houcjuets 

 calling it a weed. It is the children who must keep alive the 

 folk-lore of plants. Dear me have these had no grand 

 mothers ? 



Getting at the character of wild plants is likely to de- 

 velop in one an indifference for the merely sentimental per- 

 fumes of garden flowers. The yarrow has a bitter-sw^eet 

 virile fragrance. It means something. What does it mean? 

 Well, to one it means medicine. 



To another it recalls the Siege of Troy story and the sulky 

 Achilles who it is said first found out the potency of the plant 

 which gave it its botanical name, Achillea. We do not know if 

 he made a plaster of yarrow and applied it to his vulnerable 

 heel, but it is written he tried it upon his soldiers' weaknesses 

 with good success. 



To others the smell of yarrow brings up tales of gypsy 

 charms and love-lorn w-omen of whom many a one down the 

 ages has picked it from a grave at midnight murmuring an 

 incantation tlie while. Later it was presented to the refrac- 

 tory lover. 



P'aith and the of times much wilted yarrow and — Oh yes, 

 other things beside — , usually got the lover back. For in 

 those days the blood had not run so bitter and cold. It some- 

 time> happened then that money was the least of all magic. 



We wonder if the yarrow recalls old tales too; ciuaint 

 customs of a more romantic humanity. We bend to the flat 

 topped clusters studded with small white shallow flowers, 

 enameled and aromatic. The yarrow has blof^ned through 

 many changes of the earth's vegetation itself remaining un- 



