53 
JOTUlh^AL  OP  nORTtaULTURP  Am  COTTAOP  OARDPmn. 
^Uly  16,  1896. 
FLORAL  FACTS  AND  FANCIES.— 20. 
Thistles,  as  a  tribe,  are  supposed  to  be  symbolic  of  “  austerity,” 
and  thus  one  of  their  species  may  be  deemed  a  fitting  type  of  a 
country  that  ha#  long  had  the  repute  of  being  bleak  and  bare,  also 
of  a  race  that  is  considered  to  be  both  hardy  and  pugnacious.  But 
on  the  last  point  there  is  certainly  room  for  difference  of  opinion, 
though  a  Scotchman  may  be  trusted  to  defend  himself  if  attacked. 
However,  we  cannot  auppose  that  the  Thistle  was  taken  as  the 
national  emblem  for  these  reasons,  nor  because  such  weeds  are 
particularly  common  in  Scotland.  Really,  the  illustrations  of  the 
Thistle  which  ornament  some  old  Scotch  books,  and  the  many 
representations  of  it  that  have  been  left  by  architects  on  doors, 
windows,  and  gable  heads  are  amusing,  because  they  are  so  unlike 
Nature  ;  or,  at  lea#t,  they  seem  to  exhibit  a  species  that  has  now 
vanished  from  the  country. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  the  true  Thistle  is  nearly  as  doubtful  as 
the  true  Shamrock,  and  the  idea  that  it  wa#  some  showy  or 
conspicuous  species  does  not  agree  with  either  of  the  legendary 
stories  given  to  explain  the  position  of  eminence  it  occupies.  The 
one  of  these  goes  back  to  the  days  of  Queen  Scota,  who  is  said  to 
have  reviewed  her  troops  after  landing  on  Scottish  shore,  and, 
sitting  down  fatigued,  was  pricked  by  a  Thistle  in  that  part  of  the 
body  where,  according  to  the  famous  author  of  “Hudibras,”  honour 
resides.  Referring  to  the  other,  the  Danes  were  ju#t  about  to 
surprise  a  Scotch  encampment,  when  one  of  them,  stepping  on  a 
Thistle,  cried  out ;  the  alarm  was  raised,  and  the  foe  driven  off  by 
the  Scotch  forces.  Both  stories  suggest  a  species  of  low  growth, 
such  as  Cnicus  acaulis,  one  of  the  Plume  Thistles,  plentiful  in 
spines.  C.  arvensis,  one  of  the  field  ipecies,  has  a  fine  array  of 
strong  prickles,  but  then  its  stem  is  3  feet  high.  Carduu# 
acanthoides,  the  Welted  Thistle,  has  had  its  advocates  ;  this  is 
spinous  enough,  a  rather  local  annual,  though  it  grows  tall.  Then 
some  have  called  Silybum  Marianum  the  Scotch  Thistle,  a  species 
remarkable  for  having  its  dark  green  leaves  bordered  with  white, 
yet  it  is  not  perhaps  a  native.  This  has  been  connected  by  the 
Romish  Church  with  the  Virgin  Mary  ;  the  white  marks  upon  its 
leave#,  according  to  a  legend,  were  produced  by  her  milk  falling  on 
the  plant  when  the  Holy  Family  journeyed  to  Egypt.  Some  folks 
regard  it  as  almost  the  handsomest  of  our  native  Thistles. 
Why  people  conferred  on  C.  heterophyllus  the  name  of  the 
Melancholy  Thistle  is  not  obvious  ;  there  is  nothing  gloomy  about 
it ;  the  large  purple  flower  head  is  fragrant,'  the  stem  is  downy,  and 
the  succulent  leaves  are  white  beneath.  Possibly  some  part  of  the 
plant  was  believed  to  be  a  cure  for  melancholy,  since  various 
virtues  have  been  attributed  to  Thistles.  Thus  the  group  called 
“  Carlines  ”  are  said  to  have  been  named  after  Charlemagne,  who 
cured  his  soldiers  of  the  plague  by  means  of  a  bitter  substance 
extracted  from  the  roots  of  some  species. 
Familiar  to  most  is  the  dingy  Car lina  vulgaris,  with  its  unfading 
blooms  of  yellow,  but  it  is  likely  Charlemagne’s  plant  was  the 
Continental  C.  acaulis,  the  big  white  flowers  of  which  in  former 
times  the  peasantry  often  hung  up  outside  their  houses  as  weather 
indicators,  perhaps  do  still.  Considering  how  notable  has  been  the 
influence  of  Scottish  gardeners  upon  horticulture,  we  might  have 
expected  Thistles  would  have  had  more  favour  as  garden  flowers 
than  they  have  attained  to,  though  some  species  of  Carduus  are 
occasionally  admitted.  One  objection  to  them  is  their  excessive 
tendency  to  spread  where  they  have  once  got  a  footing.  In 
South  America,  for  instance,  vast  arid  plains  may  be  seen  covered 
with  a  dense  tangle  of  European  Thistles,  originated  by  a  few 
chance  arrivals. 
We  have  plants  quite  dissimilar  upon  which  the  name  of 
“  Agrimony  ”  was  conferred  in  the  olden  time,  apparently 
because  they  were  supposed  to  resemble  each  other  when  their 
tonic  virtues  came  to  be  tested.  One  of  these  we  find  abundant 
about  our  Kentish  marshes  and  elsewhere.  It  is  the  Hemp 
Agrimony  (Eupatorium  cannabinum),  a  tall  spec'es,  with  flowers 
of  dull  lilac  or  pink  and  grey  deeply  cut  leaves.  Waving 
beside  the  water#  of  Pontus  these  flowers  are  said  to  have 
given  to  Mithridates  a  caution  against  “  delay,”  for  that  is  the 
meaning  they  bear.  He  is  presumed  also  to  have  discovered  that 
the  infusion  of  the  bitter  root  or  downy  leaves  is  good  for 
complaint#  occurring  in  damp  districts.  There  was  also  a 
beiief  that  the  plant,  if  placed  near  bread,  would  prevent  it 
from  turning  mouldy.  Our  other  British  Agrimony  is  related  to 
the  Roses,  symbol  of  “  gratitude  it  owns  a  scent  which  has  bean 
compared  to  that  of  the  Apricot  or  Lemon,  and  its  golden  spike 
adorns  the  hedgerows  during  July.  Its  Latin  name  of  A.  Eupatoria 
alludes  to  King  Eupator,  presumed  to  be  the  discoverer  of  its  tonic 
qualities,  which  are  admitted  ;  besides,  it  ha#  been  used  for  skin 
complaints,  being  one  of  the  •imple#  much  sought  by  our  ancestors. 
Quite  as  eagerly  did  they  welcome  its  ally,  the  Avens,  or  Herb 
Bennet,  the  “  blessed  herb  ”  (Geum  urbanum),  with  other  names  of 
honour,  the  yellow,  fugitive  petals  disclosing  crimson  stamens  and 
stigma#  ;  the  flowers  are  followed  by  balls  of  purplish  spines,  which 
lengthen  out  into  awns.  It  was  the  fragrant  root  of  the  plant 
which  was  chiefly  esteemed  and  used  to  flavour  wine  or  ale,  its 
infnaion  also  given  as  a  febrifuge. 
Several  Geums  have  been  favourites  in  gardens,  such  as  the 
long  blooming  G.  album,  and  the  bright  acarlet  G.  coccineum 
plenum,  or  the  dwarf  G.  montanum,  the  yellow  flowers  of  which 
look  well  in  borders.  Strollers  at  this  season  frequently  see  the 
flowers  of  the  Tormentil  (Potentilla  tormentilla),  the  Latin  name 
of  which  should  perhaps  have  been  “  Tomentil,”  and  occasionally 
a  double  variety  turns  up,  the  blooms  resembling  tiny  Roses. 
Another  name  for  it  was  Septfoil,  and  the  root,  uncommonly  large 
for  the  size  of  the  plant,  has  long  been  used  for  dyeing.  Hugh 
Miller  tells  us  of  his  receiving  as  a  present,  while  rambling  amongst 
the  Hebrides,  a  pair  of  curiou#  slippers,  browned  by  means  of  the 
Tormentil,  which  contains,  in  fact,  one  of  our  strongest  native 
astringents. 
Familiar  to  us  in  gardens  of  all  sorts  is  the  Sweet  Pea,  an 
emblem  of  “  departure,”  perhaps  because  its  perfume  is  wafted 
along  the  summer  air,  but  more  probably  this  wa#  suggested  by  the 
winged  flowers,  which  characterise  this  and  many  kindred  species. 
Everlasting  Peas,  of  which  Lathyrus  latifolius,  with  its  succession 
of  pink  flowers,  is  the  best  known  representative,  serve  as  emblems 
of  “  lasting  happiness.”  Of  this  species  we  have  a  beautiful  white 
variety.  At  one  time  L.  tuberosus,  which  has  crimson  flowers  in 
small  clusters,  was  grown  for  its  tubers,  though  also  esteemed 
for  its  beauty  they  were  eaten,  hence  it  had  the  popular  name  of 
“  Earth  Acorn.”  Of  classic  fame  are  the  Milk  Vetches,  the 
botanical  name  of  which  implies  that  the  old  Greeks  associated 
them  not  only  with  milk  but  the  stars.  Astragalus  glycyphyllos 
is  one  scarcer  now  than  formerly  ;  the  leaves  and  stalks  taste 
first  sweetish,  then  bitter ;  its  greenish-white  clusteringj  blossoms 
tell  of  “  soothing  influence.”  A  variety  of  A.  hypoglottis  makes  a 
capital  plant  for  rockeries. 
The  woolly  foliaged  kindred  species  Anthyllis  vulneraria  (the 
Lady’s  Finger)  is  probably  one  of  the  numerous  plants  placed 
under  the  patronage  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  once  valued  because  the 
down  was  supposed  to  arrest  bleedings.  From  the  growth  of  the 
flowers  in  crowded  heads  clothed  with  wool,  some  have  main¬ 
tained  that  it  is  the  “tufted  crow-toe”  of  the  poet  Milton.  On 
some  soils  the  flowers  are  dull  white  or  red.  Symbol  of  “  aspira¬ 
tion,”  the  local  Wood  Vetch  (Vicia  sylvatica)  climb#  hedges  and 
trees  by  means  of  its  tendrils,  displaying  creamy  blossoms  marked 
with  blue.  Named  from  French  words,  signifying  that  the  plant 
makes  good  hay,  the  Saintfoin  (Onobrychis  sativa)  displays  its 
dense  spike  of  crimson  and  white  flowers  along  many  a  lane  in 
chalky  districts,  telling  of  “  trepidation.”  It  is  also  grown  freely  ; 
but  singular  to  say  it  was  at  one  time  associated  with  France, 
hence  some  think  it  is  not  a  native  of  Britain.  Our  garden  Lupines, 
named  after  the  wolf,  remind  us  of  “voracity.” — J.  R.  S.  C. 
GRAPES  SCALDED. 
The  advice  given  to  “  P.  P.”  on  page  22  is  excellent,  but  perhaps 
hardly  covers  the  whole  ground.  Personally  1  have  followed  the  plan 
there  suggested  for  many  years  and  rarely  have  many  scalded  berries. 
So  far  this  year  I  have  not  more  than  half  a  dozen  bunches  affected, 
none  of  them  having  more  than  two  or  three  spoilt  berries.  I  am  of 
opinion  that  scalding  is  due  to  other  causes  besides  faulty  ventilation. 
Three  years  ago,  when  the  weather  was  very  similar  to  what  we  are 
having  now,  a  friend  of  mine  had  nearly  the  whole  of  his  late  Grapes 
spoilt,  his  being  with  one  exception  the  worst  case  I  have  ever  seen.  I 
advised  him  to  follow  the  system  of  ventilation  advocated  by  Mr.  W. 
Taylor  in  his  excellent  little  book  “Vines  at  Longleat.”  He  has,  I 
believe,  done  so,  and  till  this  year  has  been  practically  free  from  scalding. 
On  paying  him  a  visit  three  weeks  ago  I  ionnd  him  again  perplexed  by 
a  bad  case  of  scalding  in  the  same  house  where  it  occurred  three  years 
ago.  He  assured  me  he  had  faithfully  followed  the  instructions  for 
ventilation  given  in  Mr,  Taylor’s  book. 
The  border  was  then  examined  and  found  to  be  too  dry.  The  Vines, 
though  in  fair  condition,  were  not  strong,  the  leaves  were  small  and 
scanty,  thus  allowing  the  sun  to  play  directly  on  the  berries,  and  when  I 
add  that  the  Vines  were  too  near  the  glass,  wo  have  surely  sufficient 
cause  for  scalding  under  the  most  perfect  system  of  ventilation.  The 
other  case  mentioned  occurred  as  long  ago  as  1887,  the  memorable 
Jubilee  year.  I  was  asked  by  a  gardener  in  charge  of  a  large  place  to 
inspect  his  midseason  vinery,  as  the  crop  was  completely  spoilt  by 
scalding.  There  was  not  in  the  whole  house  a  bunch  which  had  escaped, 
many  of  them  being  quite  shrivelled.  Here  were  the  same  conditions— 
a  very  dry  border,  Vines  too  near  the  glass,  foliage  small  and  not  nearly 
enough  of  it.  When  the  tropical  weather  of  that  year  is  remembered 
one  almost  wonders  that  any  fruit  escaped.  Anyone  troubled  by  scalding 
will  do  well  to  watch  the  ventilation  early  in  the  morning,  bat  Qot  to 
