a20 



THE YOUNG NATUEALIST. 



Heather honey lias a dark colour and 

 a peculiar flavour much appreciated by 

 connoisseurs. The closely aUied genera 

 Azalea and Rhododendron , are credited 

 with secreting nectar from which a 

 poisonous honey is elaborated. Thus 

 the deleterious honey which proved 

 so disastrous to Xenophon and his ten 

 thousand in their memorable retreat, 

 producing as it did intoxication and 

 deKrium, is supposed to have been 

 gathered from the flowers of Azalea 

 pontica which is abundant in that 

 country, the same noxious results 

 have been recorded from the same 

 district in more recent times. 



It is a widely current behef that the 

 aboriginal inhabitants of this country 

 had the skill to brew heather ale/^ 

 a highly pleasant drink extracted from 

 our indigenous heaths. The art is 

 now lost, and the legend of its extinction 

 is to the following effect. The secret 

 was religiously kept, and sacredly 

 transmitted from sire to son, never by 

 any chance being allowed to stray out 

 of the lineal channel of this brewster 

 priesthood, and this hereditary secret 

 was only to be known to two persons 

 at one time. Ultimately, when the 

 Picts, with whom it latest lingered, 

 had been driven from stronghold to 

 stronghold^ fighting with despairing 

 determination for hfe and country, as 

 the thickly studded rampart-crowned 

 mountain tops of Xorth Eastern 

 Scotland abundantly testifies. When 



the race was exterminated by their 

 implacable conquerors, the secret was 

 in possession of an aged Patriarch and 

 his son, whose lives were spared and 

 rewards promised if they would impart 

 the eagerly desired knowledge to the 

 victors. After earnest entreaty the 

 old man showed signs of yielding, and 

 although upbraided by his less facile 

 son, he bargained with his captors 

 that he would divulge the mystery if 

 they would slay his son before his 

 eyes. Eevolting as the compact was, 

 they readily agreed, and when the 

 bloody deed was done he laughed them 

 to scorn — Now indeed is the secret 

 safe" he exultingly cried ''and you 

 may kill me when you choose." 

 Irritated at being thus outwitted, the 

 old man was speedily dispatched, and 

 thus perished the mysterious manufac- 

 ture of the " heather ale." 



Heather tops furnished the high- 

 landers with a bright yellow dj'e for 

 their home spun yarns, a durable 

 thatch for their houses, and a most 

 luxurious couch for their repose, as 

 the old song says— - 



" To sleep upon a heather bed 

 Sae cosy and sae canty," 



And Sir W. Scott makes the Lady of 

 the Lake say — . 



" Before the heath had lost its dew, 

 This morn a couch was pulled for you 

 On yonder mountain's purple head." 



and again — 



" the stranger's bed 

 Was there of mountain heather spread.' 



