OCTANDRIA. MONOGYNIA. Erica. 
483 
(E. va'gans. Anthers beardless, and style protruded : bloss. bell-shaped: 
fruit-stalks with one flower, crowded: leaves in fours. E.) 
E. Bot. 3. 
Stems woody, (one and a half to two feet high; E.) spreading, branched, 
nearly cylindrical. Leaf-stalks very short, pressed close to the stem, 
glandular at the base. Leaves strap-shaped, blunt, pointed, edges rolled 
back so as to form a groove along the middle on the underside. Flowers 
axillary, numerous, mostly pointing one way. Fruit-stalk half the 
length of the flower, with a gland-like joint, and two floral-leaves. 
Blossom from dark purple to rose red, and sometimes white. Anthers 
colour of a mulberry, deeply cloven, projecting out of the blossom. 
Extensive districts are often purposely fired that the sheep may afterwards enjoy the 
advantage of young herbage, instead of the tough old heather plants; and to such vivid 
conflagration does the author of Marmionthus compare the impetuous charge of conflicting 
warriors. 
“ Not faster o’er thy Heathery braes, 
Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 
Rushing in conflagration strong 
Thy deep ravines and dells among, 
Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow. 
And reddening the dark lakes below.” 
Few characters are more acutely sensible to the peculiar local features of their native 
clime, than the Highlanders of North Britain, (wild “ wandering o’er their blooming 
heather”) whose tender affection for each familiar spot, indelibly impressed on the memory 
by early and fond associations, is oft by incidents trifling in themselves irresistibly revived 
in regions most remote : nor has the stout heart of the bravest of the brave, which had 
fearlessly faced destruction on the breach, or at the cannon’s mouth, in gentler mood 
failed to yearn, (as the amiable Swiss), on hearing a national air, or beholding the favourite 
badge of his clan, even the simple Heather, ’till sickening at the thought of fond hopes 
deferred, or at the retrospect of the parting scene,—when on the 
—-“ mountains fell the rays, 
And as each heathy top they kiss’d^ 
It gleamed a purple amethyst.” Marmion. 
But no poet has addressed this interesting little plant with a more genuine glow of 
patriotism than Mrs. Grant. 
Flower of the wild ! whose purple glow 
Adorns the dusky mountain’s side, 
Not the gay hues of Iris’ bow, 
Nor garden’s artful, varied pride, 
With all its wealth of sweets could cheer, 
Like thee, the hardy mountaineer. 
Flower of his heart! thy fragrance mild. 
Of peace and freedom seems to breathe; 
To pluck thy blossom in the wild, 
And deck his bonnet with the wreath, 
Where dwelt of old his rustic sires. 
Is all his simple wish requires. 
Flower of his dear-loved, native land ! 
Alas l when distant, far more dear ! 
When he from some cold foreign strand 
Looks homeward through the blinding tear, 
How must his aching heart deplore 
That home and thee he sees no more! ” E.) 
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