REVIEWS AND EXCHANGES 
93 
definite and regular distinction between Mr. Linton's two 
“species” seems to be the relative size of the mid lobe of the 
lip. Many other so-called species, however, have no more 
striking differentiae. Mr. Ellis further points out that he has 
only dealt with his own observations in one limited locality, and 
suggests that we should call on our readers in all parts of the 
country to report on the characters and most common variations 
of these orchids in their respective districts, “such reports to 
be editorially collated and discussed.” “ A minute investigation 
of a single species would,” he adds, “surely be useful to 
botanists, and would certainly be valuable to many who are 
working at the wider problems of biology.” We can only add 
that we hope that our readers will act on this suggestion, and 
also, if possible, send us fresh specimens of the variations they 
find.— Ed. N.N. 
REVIEWS AND EXCHANGES. 
A Carden of Simples. By Martha Bockee Flint. David Nutt. Brice 6.s. net. 
Our kinsfolk across the Atlantic have outlived the crudely utilitarian struggle 
for existence of the new coun'ry, the colony or the nation in the making. They 
have made a literature of their own and have evinced keen artistic sympathies. 
It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that, especially when revisiting the Old 
World, they are profoundly attracted by the quaint charms of old-time leech- 
craft, wort-cunning and kindred folk-lore. We have had of late, from the pens of 
Englishwomen, a considerable number of books on plant and garden lore, books 
in which Gerard and Parkinson are discovered and re-discovered perhaps a little 
too often ; but we do not think that many of these works have surpassed the 
present volume of unpretentious little essays in that subtle charm that is begotten 
of enthusiasm. Slips there are, as when “the Cheilodoniitni'’ (sic) “with the 
acrid, orange juice” is styled “ Wordsworth’s golden celandine,” or when orpine 
is called Sedum telephu?n ; but these are but lew and trivial, whilst, apart from 
the merely elegant telling of well-known lore, the book is full of out-of-way 
information, European, as well as American, of an antiquarian character. As a 
slight specimen of Miss Flint’s manner we may this month appropiiately quote the 
following on Azalea (miscalled Rhododendron) nudijlora, from the essay entitled 
“ Paas-blumtje and Pingster-Bloem ” : — “ This peerless azalea is familiarly known 
in New England as the honeysuckle, the swamp pink and the May apple. The 
latter name comes from the irregular excrescence, pale green and glaucous, grow- 
ing on the leaves when stung by an insect, which there deposits its egg. Cool, 
crisp and juicy, they are the delight of children, and put for a day in spiced 
vinegar, make the first pickles of the year. 
“ But the name by which this May queen of our northern flora is dearest to 
New Netherland families, is Pingsler-bloem., the flower of Pingster or Whit-sunday. 
In the seventeenth century, the rocky glens and wriodland glades of the island of 
Manhattan were all aglow with this pink azalea, blooming over a period long 
enough to connect it with that movable feast, by the Dutch revered only less than 
the festival of their own patron saint. With the prescribed religious observances 
the Pingster days had many features of the Saturnalia and were, in that staid 
community, a time of unwonted license. The slaves had then their holiday and 
held riot, awakening on the banks of the Hudson the wild echo of strains which 
had been chanted on the Congo and the Gambia. But the custom in Nieuw 
Amsterdam which is fairest in retrospect, and which lingered longest, was the 
gathering of the Pingster-bloem.” 
The authoress then goes on to speak of the Pasquata rosata of Italy, the peony 
