XVIII 



ON FOXGLOVES 



LOVERS of old English flowers who like to trace the 

 origin of names have an interesting task in finding the 

 reason why Digitalis purpurea came to be called the 

 Foxglove. Even when they give free rein to fancy 

 they fail to see a connection between the tall and grace- 

 ful wilding with its spotted flowers and the stealthy 

 nocturnal marauder which often plays sad havoc with 

 the drowsy occupants of their fowl-houses. What has 

 the fox to do with flowers, and what does he want with 

 gloves ? Did he, cunning rogue that he is, suppose, once 

 upon a time, that if he drew thumb-stalls over his paws 

 he could spoil the scent for his pursuers ? And did he 

 experiment with Foxglove flowers ? Was he found, 

 when fleet Bay Archer dashed boldly into him and 

 brought him down, with the Digitalis bells upon him ? 

 And as he died, a victim of misplaced ingenuity, did he 

 emit a parting howl of disappointment that his device 

 had come to naught ? 



These speculations once beguiled me when, the very 

 morning after the hunt had dashed through my garden, 

 I saw the fox nonchalantly stroll along the bank on the 

 outskirts of the lawn, and go leisurely to earth within 

 fifty yards of the front-door. I had not seen him pre- 

 viously ; the hunt had not seen him. But the hounds 

 must have thought that they had winded him, for they 



