COLOUR IN MY GARDEN 



Fume-terre (Earth-smoke), Herb Bennet from Herba Bene- 

 dicta (Blessed Herb). 



Mr. Leonard Barron tells me of an interesting case that 

 came within his experience of the manner in which a Latin 

 name was most curiously changed. A nurseryman in a 

 communicative mood told some children who were playing 

 in a meadow near by the nursery that the name of the 

 flower with which they were decorating themselves was 

 Rudbeckia. The children received this unwieldy word, 

 tossed it to and fro in their play until the harsh edges were 

 softened and finally had it as Rosy Betty — a strange name 

 indeed for the swarthy Black-eyed Susan — but one by which 

 it is now generally known in that one locality. By some 

 such incidents as this must we account for the many plant 

 names to which we can find no clew; to such intriguing 

 appellations as Jump-up-and-kiss-me, Impudent Lawyers, 

 Meet-me-love, Blooming-down, Little-washer-women, Cast- 

 me-down, Lad's Love, Kiss-me-behind-the-garden-gate, 

 Cats and Keys, Seven-years-love, Sweet Mary Ann, Vetter- 

 voo, Stickadose, Suckie-sue, and innumerable others. 



The familiar plant nomenclature of our own country 

 is a sort of composite of that of many others; as widely 

 various in origin as our population. Among the most 

 poignant memories brought by the early settlers to our 

 shores were doubtless those of the flowers that flourished in 

 the gardens and along the familiar roadsides at home; so 

 that it is small wonder that we find record not only of 

 these flowers themselves early brought to the gardens and 

 naturalized in the wild of the new land, but many cases 

 where some homely flower name, the mere speaking of 



343 



