36 Success with Small Fruits. 



cerning the fruit culture of their time do not mention it ; and Virgil, Ovid, 

 and Pliny name it but casually, and with no reference to its cultivation. It 

 may appear a little strange that. the luxurious Romans, who fed on night- 

 ingales' tongues, peacocks' brains, and scoured earth and air for delicacies, 

 should have given but little attention to this fruit Possibly they early 

 learned the fact that this species is essentially a wildling, and, like the trail- 

 ing arbutus, thrives best in its natural haunts. The best that grew could 

 be gathered from mountain-slopes and in the crevices of rocks. Moreover, 

 those old revelers became too wicked and sensual to relish Alpine straw- 

 berries. 



Its congener, the Wood strawberry, was the burden of one of the 

 London street cries 400 years ago ; and to-day the same cry, in some 

 language or other, echoes around the northern hemisphere as one of the 

 inevitable and welcome sounds of spring and early summer. 



But few, perhaps, associate this lowly little fruit, that is almost as 

 delicate and shy as the anemone, with tragedy ; and yet its chief poetical 

 associations are among the darkest and saddest that can be imagined. 

 Shakspeare's mention of the strawberry in the play of Richard III. was an 

 unconscious but remarkable illustration of the second line already quoted 

 from Virgil : 



" Lo, hid* within the grass an adder lies." 



The bit of history which is the occasion of this allusion is given in the 

 quaint old English of Sir Thomas More, who thus describes the entrance 

 to the Council of the terrible " Protector," from whom nothing good or 

 sacred could be protected. He came " fyrste about IX of the clocke r 

 saluting them curtesly, and excusing himself that he had been from them 

 so long, saieing merily that he had been a slepe that day. And after a 

 little talking with them he said unto the bishop of Elye, my lord, You 

 have very good strawberries at your gardayne in Holberne, I require you 

 let us have a messe of them." He who has raised fine fruit will know how 

 eagerly the flattered bishop obeyed. According to the poet, the dis- 

 sembler also leaves the apartment, with his unscrupulous ally, Buckingham. 



" Where is my lord protector ? I have sent 

 For these strawberries," 



said the Bishop of Ely, re-entering. 



Lord Hastings looks around with an air of general congratulation, and 

 remarks : 



" His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning; 

 There 's some conceit or other likes him well." 



