Ladyday to Whitsunday 
(which it don’t here), and withers when she goes. To-day 
we had some cowslip roots sent us from the meadows near 
Weymouth, where they grow in abundance, some actually 
in bud, though it is only April 18 I I wonder how they 
will thrive transplanted to rich garden soil after their lush 
meadowland. They will be quite travelled monkeys to 
their next-door neighbours in the border, some humble 
brown Bear’s-ears, which have been in the same place for 
years. A nice old name for the cowslip is Our Lady’s. Keys, 
and they are called Ladies’ Fingers in Fife, and Fairy Caps, I 
believe, in Lincolnshire. I like the German name of 
Himmelsch lusselchen — •“ Heaven’s little keys ”■ — and the 
legend that one day, when St. Peter was told people were 
trying to get into heaven by a back way, so as not to have 
to enter by the great locked gate he was in charge of, he 
was so distressed he dropped his keys. They fell on the 
earth, and where the bunch fell a posy of cowslips appeared. 
Parkinson, among the variety of cowslips in Queen 
Henrietta Maria’s garden, mentions one called the Franticke, 
or Foolish Cowslip, or Jackanapes on Horseback. Among 
the many uses formerly made of cowslips, it seems a 
balsam, “ sovereigne for green wounds,” was concocted 
long ago, of which it is asserted by my Queen Anne 
Herbalist “ that ’tis a medicament which every good 
Country Man ought to keep in his houfe.” Primrose Day 
will shortly be here. I feel deeply thankful the favourite 
political deity of the Scots is Gladstone; we may hope to 
keep our primrose banks unrifled by the primrose-hunting 
Tory. Still, I think I will mount guard over my beloved 
“ lilye flowers,” lest they be reft away : May’s Pinks, as they 
used to be called. I heard the other day of a decoction 
called “ Primrose Vinegar.” I must try and find out how it 
is made and what it is good for. 
The birds are preparing their nests now. The sparrows 
and others who elected to build on the house among the 
ivy must have been rather disturbed in their operations a 
few days ago, when Gardener clipped the ivy, or, as he said, 
“ switched ” it, leaving the house woefully bare and naked- 
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