216 The Pimpernel. 



another place that kine and goats feed on it, but sheep refuse it. 

 If Pliny is correct in his observations, both these opposite state- 

 ments may also be accurate, since neither of them mention 

 whether the experiments were made with the blue or scarlet 

 kinds. Etymologists differ materially respecting the derivation 

 of the name of this plant. De Martyn says it comes from the 

 Greek, to laugh, because by curing the spleen it made persons 

 cheerful. Cole3 thinks it was given from its growing abundantly 

 by the river Gallus ; but the most rational derivation seems to 

 be from anago^ to extract, or draw out, since we find the branches 

 and leaves of the plant being pounded were used by the ancients 

 not only to draw forth thorns and splinters, but it was also con- 

 sidered of sufficient efficacy to extract the points of arrows and 

 spears that were broken in the flesh. The French call this plant 

 Mouron, and our name of Pimpernel seems derived from Prim- 

 pernelle, the French name for Burnet. In floral language, this 

 little flower is made the symbol of assignation. 



The Pimpernel is propagated by the curious in such matters, 

 by sowing the seeds soon after they are ripe, on a border of light 

 earth. The blue-flowered Pimpernel, naturally the one most 

 desired, may be increased by cuttings ; and when planted in a 

 pot of light earth pnd placed in a hot-bed, will produce flowers 

 in less than six weeks. This little plant, whose numerous 

 branches spread themselves on the ground, being too weak to 

 erect their flower stems, but which catch our attention by the 

 vivid scarlet color of the corolla, was once in great repute by 

 medical practitioners, but has now fallen entirely into disuse. 

 It is in the natural order Primulacese. 



THE PIMPERNEL. 



Up and abroad — the earih puts on 



Her beautiful array, 

 The heavens their glory, for the sun 



Rejoiceth on his way. 

 Not vainly shall he shed his ray : 



Yon mountain's height I'll brave, 

 Or turn my skiff so light and gay, 



And wake the slumbering wave. 

 Hark ! how the fresh breeze bears along 

 To heaven wide nature's matin song. 



