THE MUSEUM. 



25 



the nettle ; and a fabric made from the 

 fibres of the plant was also used till 

 a recent period in Friesland." Flax 

 and hemp bear Southern names, and 

 when they were brought into the north 

 of Europe, the nettles career of use- 

 fullness was ended. Like handicrafts- 

 men on the introduction of machinery, 

 it was thrown out of honorable em- 

 ployment. Then it became a vaga- 

 bond and took to roadsides and wastes. 

 Nettles are said to have been intro- 

 duced into England by Roman soldiers 

 who sowed the seed in Kent for their 

 own use "to rubbe and chafe their 

 limbs when through e.xtreme cold they 

 should be stiffe and benumbed," hav- 

 ing been told that the climate of Brit- 

 ain was so cold that it was not to be 

 endured without some friction to warm 

 their blood. 



We are all familiar with the oft- 

 quoted lines: "Tender-handed stroke 

 a nettle and it stings you for your 

 pains," etc. They were written by 

 Aaron Hill on a window in Scotland. 

 Their thought is more tersely express- 

 ed in the old Devonshire saying: "He 

 that handles a nettle tenderly is soon- 

 est stung," meaning that politeness is 

 wasted on some people. For the 

 physical sting of the vegetable nettle 

 the dock leaf is a remedy, whence the 

 old adage, "Nettle out, dock in, dock 

 remove the nettle sting. " In old old- 

 folk medicine nettle-tea was a remedy 

 for nettle-rash, a kind of foreshadow- 

 ing of the coming doctrine that"similia 

 similibus curantur. " Carried about on 

 the person, the nettle was supposed to 

 drive away fear and on this account it 

 was frequently worn in time of danger. 

 "In the Tyrol, during a thunder-storm, " 

 says Thistleton Dyer, ' 'the mountain- 

 eers throw nettles on the fire to pro- 



tect themselves from lightning, and the 

 same safeguard is practiced in Italy." 

 Well might this be a potent weed, for 

 it is own cousin to the famous and fatal 

 upas tree of Eastern story. 



If the nettle has been thrown out of 

 work by modern industries, other 

 weeds have been superseded by mod- 

 ern science. When the signal service 

 was still far in the unknown future, 

 country people used to forecast the 

 weather by the doings of some common 

 and familiar plants. "Chickweed, for 

 instance," says Thistleton Dyer, "ex- 

 pands its leaves fully when fine weath- 

 er is to follow, but if they are half clos- 

 ed, then the traveller is to put on his 

 great- coat;" and according to the 

 "Shepherd's Calendar," thistle-down 

 or dandelelion-down "whisking about 

 and turning around foreshows tempest- 

 uous winds." "If the down flieth off 

 dandelion and thistles when there is 

 no wind," says another old collection 

 of flower-lore, it is a sign of rain. In 

 many parts of rural England the dan- 

 delion is known as "blow-ball," be- 

 cause children blow away the winged 

 seeds to tell the time of day, and an- 

 other quaint name for this plant is 

 "priests' crowns," because the smooth 

 round white receptacles after the seeds 

 have departed are suggestive of dimin- 

 utive shaven heads. This flower and 

 a few other weeds have so accommo- 

 dated themselves to the chances and 

 changes of our climate that a few days 

 of mildness and sunshine in the heart 

 of winter will coax them into bloom. 

 There is no month in the year in 

 which one may not see the flowers of 

 chickweed and sow-thistle and the 

 dandelions' hearts of gold. But the 

 superstitious soul had better leave 

 them to the mercies of Jack Frost, for 



