A GLANCE AT BRITISH WILD FLOWERS 161 



take it back again with surprising alacrity. And 

 such a villainous fang as the plant has! it is like 

 the sting of bees. Your hand burns and smarts for 

 hours afterward. My little boy and I were eagerly 

 gathering wild flowers on the banks of the Doon, 

 when I heard him scream, a few yards from me. 

 I had that moment jerked my stinging hand out of 

 the grass as if I had put it into a hornet's nest, and 

 I knew what the youngster had found. We held 

 our burning fingers in the water, which only aggra- 

 vated the poison. It is a dark green, rankly grow- 

 ing plant, from one to two feet high, that asks no 

 leave of anybody. It is the police that protects 

 every flower in the hedge. To "pluck the flower 

 of safety from the nettle danger" is a figure of 

 speech that has especial force in this island. The 

 species of our own nettle with which I am best 

 acquainted, the large-leaved Canada nettle, grows 

 in the woods, is shy and delicate, is cropped by 

 cattle, and its sting is mild. But apparently no 

 cow's tongue can stand the British nettle, though, 

 when cured as hay, it is said to make good fodder. 

 Even the pigs cannot eat it till it is boiled. In 

 starvation times it is extensively used as a pot-herb, 

 and, when dried, its fibre is said to be nearly equal 

 to that of flax. Rough handling, I am told, dis- 

 arms it, but I could not summon up courage to try 

 the experiment. Ophelia made her garlands 



"Of crow-flowers, daisies, nettles, and long purples." 



But the nettle here referred to was probably the 

 stingless dead-nettle. 



