and thus the army was saved. 

 Achaius, King of Scotland, adopted the 

 plant as his emblem in recognition of this 

 service, but it was not made a part of the 

 national arms until the middle of the 

 fifteenth century. 



The origin of the Scottish order of the 

 Thistle, or St Andrew, is somewhat un- 

 certain. In 1687 it was restored to favor 

 by James II of England and was given 

 much prominence during the reign of 

 Queen Anne. The membership was lim- 

 ited to from twelve to sixteen peers of 

 the realm, the insignia being a golden col- 

 lar composed of sixteen thistles, from 

 which hung a St. Andrew's cross. 



What is known as the purple star this- 

 tle was named for Chiron the Centaur. 

 The great spines on the calyx suggested 

 the military caltrop, an iron star of four 

 points, which was used in battle to an- 

 noy horses. 



Among other incidents in which This- 

 tles have been in evidence may be men- 

 tioned the confusion into which the army 

 of Charles the Bold was thrown, in 1465, 

 because of the deceptive appearance of 

 the plants. The Burgundians were be- 

 seiging Paris, and while the army slept 

 scouts brought word that great numbers 

 of spears were assembled outside the city 

 walls. A panic was narrowly averted, 

 and later it was discovered that the stems 

 and spines of some very tall Thistles had 



produced the deception. The leaves of 

 the Thistles were commonly employed 

 by the Roman soldiers to shade their hel- 

 mets, and it is stated that when Hugh 

 Spencer, favorite of Edward II, was 

 hanged, the mob, in derision, placed a 

 crown of thistle spines upon his head. 



Thistles seem to have figured in peace 

 as well as war. In England the teasel is 

 indispensable in the cloth mills, in which 

 it is employed to dress the nap of the 

 fabrics, and Virgil tells of the vest of 

 Helen, which was embroidered to repre- 

 sent the plants, while the handles of the 

 Cup of Eurymedon were entwined with 

 them. Probably the crowning glory of 

 the Thistle, if the story be true, lies in 

 its contribution to architecture, in which 

 capacity it deserves no less consideration 

 than the Egyptian lotus. It appears from 

 the narrative that a young girl of Cor- 

 inth dying, her nurse placed on her 

 grave a basket containing her toys, cov- 

 ering them with a large tile in order to 

 shield the childish treasures from the 

 weather. The basket was set by chance 

 on the root of a Thistle. When the 

 springtime came the plant grew until, 

 meeting the tile, it was forced to turn 

 downwards in graceful folds, which, 

 catching the eye of Callimachus, lie con- 

 ceived the capital of the Corinthian col- 

 umns. Charles S. Raddin. 



The smallest effort is not lost; 

 Each wavelet on the ocean toss'd 

 Aids in the ebb-tide of the flow; 

 Each rain drop makes some flow'ret blow 

 Each struggle lessens human woe. 



— Charles MacKay in the Chicago Record-Herald. 



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