July  30,  1896. 
JOURNAL  OF  IfORTTaULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
103 
I":  Gentian,  more  often  affects  the  tideless  points  where  two  streams 
r  converge  at  the  promontory  of  some  eyot  which  has  temporarily 
h-  separated  them.  There  you  may  search  for  it  if  you  will,  from 
k  Maidenhead  up  to  Goring,  taking  care,  I  trust,  not  to  pick  or 
disturb  it,  but  contenting  yourself  with  observing  its  pretty  masses 
of  bright  and  golden  Gentian -like  flowers. 
Villarsia  is  not,  I  think,  a  true  British  subject.  I  regard  it  as 
at  best  a  naturalised  alien.  It  is  a  denizen  of  still  ponds  and  of  the 
sluggish  backwaters  and  lowland  rivers  in  the  greater  part  of 
Europe  ;  and,  having  been  introduced  into  ornamental  waters  in 
parks  in  England,  it  has  gradually  strayed  out  into  the  main  body  of 
the  Thames  and  some  other  streams.  The  odd  thing  about  it,  how¬ 
ever,  is  this  :  though  not  in  any  way  related  to  the  Water  Lilies,  it  is 
so  absurdly  like  them  in  foliage  and  mode  of  growth  that  anyone 
who  saw  a  plant  not  in  the  flowering  stage  would  be  almost  certain 
to  mistake  it  at  first  sight  for  a  member  of  that  more  familiar 
family.  The  leaves  are  round,  broad,  and  deeply  heart-shaped  at 
the  base  ;  and  they  float  expanded  on  the  surface  just  like  the 
Water  Lilies.  They  are  smaller,  indeed,  but  that  is  all  ;  in  no 
other  respect  are  there  differences  to  speak  of.  In  short,  this  is  a 
clear  case  of  adaptive  resemblance.  The  two  plants  belong  by 
origin  to  widely  different  groups  ;  their  flowers  show  it  ;  yet  their 
leaves  are  identical.  The  Water  Lilies,  one  of  the  most  ancient 
types  we  still  retain,  belong  to  a  simple  and  early  family,  closely 
related  to  the  Buttercups,  and  still  more  to  the  big  sub-tropical 
Magnolias  ;  they  bear  witness  to  their  primitive  nature  to  this 
day  by  the  fact  that  the  calyx,  petals,  and  stamens  are  ill-demar¬ 
cated  from  one  another,  each  passing  into  each  by  infinitesimal 
gradations.  This  ancient  peculiarity  is  well  seen  in  the  white 
Water  Lily,  where  the  outer  sepals  of  the  calyx  are  green  and  leaf¬ 
like  ;  then  come  intermediate  petal-like  sepals,  white  at  the  edge, 
but  with  a  central  streak  of  vivid  green  ;  these  merge  once  more 
into  nascent  petals,  which  are  half  sepals,  then  into  true  broad 
petals,  then  again  into  petals  which  are  narrow  and  stamen-like, 
often  provided  with  pollen  sacs,  and  finally  into  genuine  and 
unmistakeable  stamens. 
The  Villarsia,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  member  of  the  relatively 
recent  and  advanced  Gentian  family,  whose  flowers  have  the  petals 
united,  after  the  higher  and  improved  modern  fashion,  into  a  single 
piece  or  corolla  ;  yet  it  closely  mimics  the  leaves  of  the  Water 
Lily,  which  must  have  had  the  start  of  it  in  the  still  waters  of  the 
world  by  countless  millenniums.  Why  should  the  younger  plant 
thus  imitate  the  elder  one  ?  Clearly  because  similar  conditions 
tend  always  to  be  met  by  similar  adaptations. 
When  some  adventurous  Gentian  first  began  to  grow  in  the 
pools  and  ponds  it  found,  as  the  Water  Lily  had  found  before  it, 
that  by  floating  its  leaves  on  the  surface  of  the  water  it  could 
economise  in  leafstalk  ;  it  need  no  longer  make  this  part  stout  and 
stiff.  A  limber  and  yielding  petiole  would  be  sufficient  for  its 
purpose.  Again,  submerged  leaves  ai*e  almost  always  finely  divided 
into  hair-like  segments,  as  in  Water  Crowfoot  and  Pondweed  ;  but 
floating  leaves,  on  the  contrary,  are  broad  and  often  round,  being 
upheld  by  the  buoyant  water  and  having  free  space  all  about  to 
expand  in.  The  first  sort  are  the  analogue  of  gflls.  They  have  to 
wave  freely  in  the  water,  so  as  to  catch  and  fix  the  few  floating 
particles  of  carbonic  acid  on  which  they  feed.  The  second  sort  are 
the  analogues  of  lungs.  They  have  free  access  to  the  air,  with  its 
comparatively  large  quantities  of  carbonic  acid,  and  since  they 
float  on  the  unoccupied  surface  they  can  assume  in  every  direction 
the  round  shape  which  is,  so  to  speak,  the  ideal  of  the  leaf  when 
not  interfered  with  in  its  development  by  others.  I  may  add 
that  even  on  dry  land  leaves,  like  those  of  the  garden  Nasturtium, 
which  rise  freely  on  long  stalks  above  all  competitors,  tend 
habitually  to  assume  this  ideal  round  shape  quite  as  much  as  the 
Water  Lilies. 
The  merest  outsider,  however,  could  never  mistake  the  Villarsia 
for  a  Water  Lily  if  he  saw  it  in  flower  in  close  quarters.  Its  pretty 
yellow  bells,  with  their  united  corolla  of  five  deep  lobes,  are  wholly 
i!  unlike  the  yellow  Water  Lily,  and  resemble  in  all  essentials  the 
I*  Gentian  pattern.  For  example,  they  have  only  five  stamens,  where 
j  the  Water  Lily  has  many  ;  and  they  have  effected  this  saving  by 
\  superior  devices  for  cross  fertilisation.  They  have  also  a  small 
if  central  capsule,  instead  of  the  big,  ungainly  ball  of  the  Water  Lily; 
i  and  their  general  shape  rather  recalls  the  Melon  or  Cucumber 
h  blossom.  The  edges  of  the  lobes — the  petals,  a  non-botanical 
r  observer  would  say — are  prettily  waved.  The  centre  of  each  lobe 
L  is  yellower  and  thicker,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  whole  flower  is  a 
F-  fringe  of  golden  hairs,  which  greatly  add*  to  its  daintiness  and 
1  beauty.  I  cannot  perceive  that  those  hairs  are  of  much  use  to  the 
‘  blossom  in  its  present  itate,  though  perhaps  they  may  serve  as 
guides  or  landing  stages  for  the  visiting  insects.  Still,  I  have 
watched  carefully  for  any  such  function,  and  find  none  obvious, 
whence  I  am  rather  inclined  to  think  the  fringe  is  a  mere  survival 
from  the  Gentian  stage  of  development,  now  useless  to  the  plant 
under  its  altered  conditions.  For  a  great  many  field  Gentian* 
have  just  »uch  a  conspicaous  fringe  of  hair*  in  the  throat  of  the 
corolla,  which  in  their  case  is  of  immense  use  in  promoting  due 
fertilisation,  and  securing  the  honey  from  thieving  insects  who 
would  despoil  the  nectaries  without  effecting  impregnation  of  the 
seeds  in  the  unripe  capsule. 
When  some  vagrant  Gentians  first  began  to  stray  from  the 
meadows  and  mountain*,  and  attempt  a  footing  in  the  marshes 
and  ponds,  they  took,  I  fancy,  this  fringe  of  hairs  ready  made  along 
with  them — as  beautifully  seen  in  the  throat  of  our  English  field 
and  autumn  Gentians.  There  the  fringe  or  beard  is  a  delicate  blue. 
In  the  Buck- bean  or  Bog-bean,  however,  a  Gentian  which  has 
strayed  into  marshes,  and  adapted  itself  to  a  marshy  existence,  the 
flowers  are  white,  slightly  tinged  with  red,  as  a  concession  to  the 
taste  of  water sidf  flies  ;  and  the  fringe,  which  is  here  most  graceful 
and  conspicuous,  is  white  or  faintly  lilac.  Finally,  in  the  thoroughly 
aquatic  Villars  a,  the  flowers  are  yellow — a  favourite  hue  with 
aquatic  insects — and  the  fringe  is  reduced,  as  I  believe,  to  a  mere 
functionless  relic.  So  much  history  may  be  summed  up  in  the 
structure  of  a  single  waterside  blossom. — Grant  Allen  (in  “Daily 
News  ”). 
Tea  Rose  Meoal  at  Ulverston. 
We  are  informed  that  an  error  crept  into  our  report  of  the  Ulverston 
show  in  crediting  Mr.  Pemberton  instead  of  Mr.  Lindseli  with  the  honour 
of  the  prize  above  indicated.  Mr.  Lindseli,  we  are  told,  won  the  medal 
with  Catherine  Mermet  in  exceptionally  fine  condition. 
Roses  in  History,  Romance,  and  Mythology. 
To  all  lovers  of  the  queen  of  flowers  these  few  curious  facts  that  I 
have  compiled  may  be  interesting.  In  early  history  Roses  were  a  potent 
ingredient  in  “  love  philters,”  and  have,  from  time  immemorial,  found  a 
place  in  the  healing  arts,  as  well  as  in  the  pages  of  history  and  romance, 
and  among  the  legends  of  poetry.  The  Greeks,  Romans,  and  ancient 
Gauls  employed  Roses  as  one  of  several  remedies  for  people  who  had 
drunk  more  wine  than  was  good  for  them.  In  Capua  they  were 
administered  to  those  who  had  overeaten.  Some  recommended  Roses 
for  pleurisy  ;  one  ancient  authority  said  that  when  a  syrup  of  Rosea  was 
mixed  with  honey  it  would  lengthen  life.  Rose  leave*,  properly  pre¬ 
pared  and  used,  have  been  said  to  be  a  perfect  cure  for  hydrophobia.  A 
liquor  made  of,  or  flavoured  with,  Roses  was  the  favourite  beverage  of 
Philip  the  Handsome  of  France ;  while  Charlemagne  considered  this 
same  preparation  a  specific  against  loss  of  blood  in  battle.  A  poultice 
of  Roses,  in  “  ye  olden  time,”  was  used  for  flesh  wounds,  and  Roses  and 
buds,  preserved  with  sugar,  were  believed  to  cure  consumption  and  all 
affections  of  the  throat  and  lungs. 
These  beautiful  flowers  have,  in  all  ages,  been  the  favourites  for 
adorning  the  bodies  and  graves  of  the  dead.  Mark  Antony  begged 
Cleopatra  to  cover  his  tomb  with  these  flowers  of  love  ;  and  the  graves 
of  Abelard  and  Eloise,  in  the  Parisian  cemetery  of  P6re  la  Chaise,  are 
always  covered  with  bouquets  of  Roses,  the  offerings  of  tourist*  and 
visitors  to  the  tomb  of  these  unfortunate  lovers.  In  Turkey  a  Rose  is 
often  sculptured  over  the  graves  of  unmarried  women ;  while  with  us 
we  often  see  a  Rosebud  with  a  broken  stem  cut  into  the  marble  above 
the  last  resting  place  of  a  little  child. 
In  Babylon  a  preparation  of  shoe-leather  was  much  esteemed  when 
it  had  been  impregnated  with  the  scent  of  the  Rose.  Abdulkari,  a 
learned  and  eminent  Turk,  hearing  of  this,  bethought  himself  of  an 
ingenious  way  to  proflt  by  it.  He  had  demanded  of  the  Babylonians 
the  freedom  of  the  city,  and  in  reply  they  had  sent  him  a  bowl  brimful 
of  water,  which  was  meant  to  signify  that  there  was  no  room  for  an 
intruder.  Abdulkari  placed  a  Rose  leaf  upon  the  surface  of  the  water 
without  spilling  a  drop  of  it ;  and  having  thus  indicated  in  the  same 
symbolical  manner  that  he  might  be  received  without  giving  trouble  or 
disturbance,  he  obtained  his  object.  In  many  countries  the  Jews  still 
celebrate  the  Festival  of  Flower*,  when  they  ornament  their  lamps, 
chandeliers,  and  beds  with  Roses.  The  early  Christians  disliked  these 
flowers,  and  said  they  could  not  understand  how  pious  people  could 
find  pleasure  in  Rose*,  when  they  remembered  Christ’s  crown  of  thorns. 
But  this  feeling  has  long  since  died  out. 
It  has  been  the  practice  in  Rome  for  the  Pope  to  bless  the  Rose  on  a 
special  day  called  Rose  Sunday.  This  custom  of  blessing  the  Rose 
seems  to  have  begun  in  the  eleventh  or  twelfth  centuries.  The 
benediction  was  given  with  peculiar  solemnity,  and  on  the  fourth 
Sunday  in  Lent.  The  Rose  was  made  of  gold,  for  the  purpose ;  after 
the  ceremony  this  consecrated  golden  Rose  was  presented  by  the  Pontiff 
himself  to  some  prince  or  princess  as  a  mark  of  special  favour. 
In  the  East  there  is  a  tradition  that  the  first  Rose  was  formed  from  a 
tear  of  Mahomet.  The  Guebers,  or  Fire-worshippers  of  Persia,  believe 
