248 
THE PRINCIPLES OF BOTANY. 
lieved it would give fruitfulness to all barren animals, and would 
act as a remedy against all poisons/’ 
The animals were killed, cut up, and cooked; meantime 
prayers were offered up, hymns were sung, and the heaven- 
born plant, thus carefully saved from pollution by any touch of 
the earth, was distributed in small sprigs amongst the people, as 
a sacred relic for the new year, a charm to insure fecundity, a 
panacea against every disease, a remedy for poisons, and a safe pro¬ 
tection against witchcraft and the possession of the devil. Many 
a good wife travelled for days, perchance, on a pillion behind her 
husband, through bogs and fords, and over wide tracts of uncul¬ 
tivated land and primeval forest, to attend this festival, leading 
a sumpter-horse laden with their offerings to the priesthood, and 
all the good things they could muster for the festival,—venison 
and salmon, roasted bustards and boar’s hams, with cakes and 
other delicacies, not forgetting some well-filled skins of metheg- 
lin or mead,—happy in being able, as a recompense for so much 
toil, to procure from the hand of the Arch-Druid, for herself and 
her husband, so many blessings in the coming year. The memory 
of the Druidical ceremonies is still kept up in Normandy, as 
they give mistletoe to each other on New Year’s Day, by saying, 
“ An qui l’an neuf,” and in Picardy, they add the word 
“ plantez,” to wish a plentiful and prosperous new year to each 
other. 
The medical reputation of the mistletoe does not seem to have 
disappeared with the Druids ; for, although some of the ancients 
looked upon the mistletoe as poisonous, the old herbalist, 
Gerarde, in 1636, gives his opinion as quite the reverse, and says, 
“ A few berries of the mistletoe, bruised and strained into oile 
and drunken, hath presently and forthwith rid a grevious and 
sore stitch.” 
He also quotes Galen, who says, <e His acrimony overcometh 
his bitterness, for if it be used in outward applications, it 
draweth humours from the deepest and most secret parts of 
the body, spreading and dispersing them aboard and digesting 
them.” 
We are inclined to think that the imagination of the patient 
had more to do with the efficacy of the mistletoe plasters, as it 
has with many modern and still favourite remedies, than any 
virtue in itself. The only practical use to which we now apply 
the berries of the mistletoe is the manufacture of birdlime. 
In Prussia, in times of scarcity, the branches and leaves of the 
mistletoe have been used, powdered and mixed with rye flour, to 
make bread, which is by no means unwholesome. 
Mr. Lees says, “ The mistletoe still maintains a precarious 
place in rustic practice. I once asked a farmer who lived in the 
