FMR MMVS OF FSB^ART 35 



volvulus that hangs its white bells on the summer hedge- 

 row is Our Lady's Nightcap. The green tangle of the 

 wild clematis is Our Lady's Bower. The alchemilla of 

 the upland pasture is Our Lady's Mantle ; and the most 

 striking British orchis, now, alas, almost rooted out by 

 the greed of inconsiderate collectors, is Our Lady's 

 Slipper. Another orchis, the tiny, graceful plant that in 

 the early days of autumn hides so well its spike of sweet, 

 pale green among the long grass on the hill, is Our 

 Lady's Tresses. With Our Lady's Bedstraw the manger 

 of the Holy Child was filled, while the couch of the 

 Virgin herself was strewn with thyme and sweet leaves 

 of the woodruff, a flower sacred to her still. 



The marigold received its name because Mary wore it 

 in her bosom : though other legends link it with a dif- 

 ferent Mary her of Egypt, on whose grave the plant 

 sprang up and blossomed in a single night. 



The marigold is, to the Mexican, a flower of doom, 

 marking the spots where Aztec warriors were butchered 

 by the men of Cortez. So, on Virginian meadows, clover 

 was thought to blossom on the Red Man's grave. Thus 

 the dwarf elder is said to grow only where the blood 

 of Danes was spilt. From the crimsoned snow of Towton 

 sprang roses white and red. The forget-me-nots of the 

 plains of Waterloo bear traces still of the taint of that 

 fierce conflict. And by the stream of Landen, where 

 William of Orange held at bay so long the chivalry of 

 France, millions of scarlet poppies sprang up in the 

 summer following the fight, tinging anew, as with the 

 rain of battle, all the fatal field. 



