Part 13

A saying goes that it is not Spring until a person can put his foot on twelve of these flowers. In the cultivated red Daisies used for bordering our gardens, the yellow central boss of each compound flower has given place to strap-shaped florets like the outer rays, and without pollen, so that the entire flower consists of this purple inflorescence. But such aristocratic culture has made the blossom unproductive of seed. Like many a proud and belted Earl, each of the pampered and richly coloured Daisies pays the penalty of its privileged luxuriance by a disability from perpetuating its species.

The Moon Daisy, or Oxeye Daisy (_Leucanthemum Orysanthemum_), St. John's flower, belonging to the same tribe of plants, grows commonly with an erect stem about two feet high, in dry pastures and roads, bearing large solitary flowers which are balsamic and make a [147] useful infusion for relieving chronic coughs, and for bronchial catarrhs. Boiled with some of the leaves and stalks they form, if sweetened with honey, or barley sugar, an excellent posset drink for the same purpose. In America the root is employed successfully for checking the night sweats of pulmonary consumption, a fluid extract thereof being made for this object, the dose of which is from fifteen to sixty drops in water.

The Moon Daisy is named Maudlin-wort from St. Mary Magdalene, and bears its lunar name from the Grecian goddess of the moon, Artemis, who particularly governed the female health. Similarly, our bright little Daisy, "the constellated flower that never sets," owns the name Herb Margaret. The Moon Daisy is also called Bull Daisy, Gipsies' Daisy, Goldings, Midsummer Daisy, Mace Flinwort, and Espilawn. Its young leaves are sometimes used as a flavouring in soups and stews. The flower was compared to the representation of a full moon, and was formerly dedicated to the Isis of the Egyptians. Tom Hood wrote of a traveller estranged far from his native shores, and walking despondently in a distant land:--

"When lo! he starts with glad surprise, Home thoughts come rushing o'er him, For, modest, wee, and crimson-tipped A flower he sees before him. With eager haste he stoops him down, His eyes with moisture hazy; And as he plucks the simple bloom He murmurs, 'Lawk, a Daisy'"!

DANDELION.

Owing to long years of particular evolutionary sagacity in developing winged seeds to be wafted from the silky pappus of its ripe flowerheads over wide areas of land, [148] the Dandelion exhibits its handsome golden flowers in every field and on every ground plot throughout the whole of our country. They are to be distinguished from the numerous hawkweeds, by having the outermost leaves of their exterior cup bent downwards whilst the stalk is coloured and shining. The plant-leaves have jagged edges which resemble the angular jaw of a lion fully supplied with teeth; or, some writers say, the herb has been named from the heraldic lion which is vividly yellow, with teeth of gold-in fact, a dandy lion! Again, the flower closely resembles the sun, which a lion represents. It is called by some Blowball, Time Table, and Milk "Gowan" (or golden).

"How like a prodigal does Nature seem, When thou with all thy gold so common art."

In some of our provinces the herb is known as Wiggers, and Swinesnout; whilst again in Devon and Cornwall it is called the Dashelflower. Botanically it belongs to the composite order, and is named _Taraxacum Leontodon_, or eatable, and lion-toothed. This latter when Latinised is _dens leonis_, and in French _dent de lion_. The title Taraxacum is an Arabian corruption of the Greek _trogimon_, "edible"; or it may have been derived from the Greek _taraxos_, "disorder," and _akos_, "remedy." It once happened that a plague of insects destroyed the harvest in the island of Minorca, so that the inhabitants had to eat the wild produce of the country; and many of them then subsisted for some while entirely on this plant. The Dandelion, which is a wild sort of Succory, was known to Arabian physicians, since Avicenna of the eleventh century mentions it as _taraxacon_. It is found throughout Europe, Asia, and North America; possessing a root which abounds with milky juice, and [149] this varying in character according to the time of year in which the plant is gathered.

During the winter the sap is thick, sweet, and albuminous; but in summer time it is bitter and acrid. Frost causes the bitterness to diminish, and sweetness to take its place; but after the frost this bitterness returns, and is intensified. The root is at its best for yielding juice about November. Chemically the active ingredients of the herb are taraxacin, and taraxacerine, with inulin (a sort of sugar), gluten, gum, albumen, potash, and an odorous resin, which is commonly supposed to stimulate the liver, and the biliary organs. Probably this reputed virtue was assigned at first to the plant largely on the doctrine of signatures, because of its bright yellow flowers of a bilious hue. But skilled medical provers who have experimentally tested the toxical effects of the Dandelion plant have found it to produce, when taken in excess, troublesome indigestion, characterized by a tongue coated with a white skin which peels off in patches, leaving a raw surface, whilst the kidneys become unusually active, with profuse night sweats and an itching nettle rash. For these several symptoms when occurring of themselves, a combination of the decoction, and the medicinal tincture will be invariably curative.

To make a decoction of the root, one part of this dried, and sliced, should be gently boiled for fifteen minutes in twenty parts of water, and strained off when cool. It may be sweetened with brown sugar, or honey, if unpalatable when taken alone, several teacupfuls being given during the day. Dandelion roots as collected for the market are often adulterated with those of the common Hawkbit (_Leontodon hispidus_); but these are more tough and do not give out any milky juice.

[150] The tops of the roots dug out of the ground, with the tufts of the leaves remaining thereon, and blanched by being covered in the earth as they grow, if gathered in the spring, are justly esteemed as an excellent vernal salad. It was with this homely fare the good wise Hecate entertained Theseus, as we read in Evelyn's _Acetaria_. Bergius says he has seen intractable cases of liver congestion cured, after many other remedies had failed, by the patients taking daily for some months, a broth made from Dandelion roots stewed in boiling water, with leaves of Sorrel, and the yelk of an egg; though (he adds) they swallowed at the same time cream of tartar to keep their bodies open.

Incidentally with respect to the yelk of an egg, as prescribed here, it is an established fact that patients have been cured of obstinate jaundice by taking a raw egg on one or more mornings while fasting. Dr. Paris tells us a special oil is to be extracted from the yelks (only) of hard boiled eggs, roasted in pieces in a frying pan until the oil begins to exude, and then pressed hard. Fifty eggs well fried will yield about five ounces of this oil, which is acrid, and so enduringly liquid that watch-makers use it for lubricating the axles and pivots of their most delicate wheels. Old eggs furnish the oil most abundantly, and it certainly acts as a very useful medicine for an obstructed liver. Furthermore the shell, when finely triturated, has served by its potentialised lime to cure some forms of cancer. Sweet are the uses of adversity! even such as befell the egg symbolised by Humpty-Dumpty:--

"Humptius in muro requievit Dumptius alto, Humptius e muro Dumptius--heu! cecidit! Sed non Regis equi, Reginae exercitus omnis Humpti, te, Dumpti, restituere loco."

[151] The medicinal tincture of Dandelion is made from the entire plant, gathered in summer, employing proof spirit which dissolves also the resinous parts not soluble in water. From ten to fifteen drops of this tincture may be taken with a spoonful of water three times in the day.

Of the freshly prepared juice, which should not be kept long as it quickly ferments, from two to three teaspoonfuls are a proper dose. The leaves when tender and white in the spring are taken on the Continent in salads or they are blanched, and eaten with bread and butter. Parkinson says: "Whoso is drawing towards a consumption, or ready to fall into a cachexy, shall find a wonderful help from the use thereof, for some time together." Officially, according to the London College, are prepared from the fresh dried roots collected in the autumn, a decoction (one ounce to a pint of boiling water), a juice, a fresh extract, and an inspissated liquid extract.

Because of its tendency to provoke involuntary urination at night, the Dandelion has acquired a vulgar suggestive appellation which expresses this fact in most homey terms: _quasi herba lectiminga, et urinaria dicitur_: and this not only in our vernacular, but in most of the European tongues: _quia plus lotii in vesicam derivat quam puerulis retineatur proesertim inter dormiendum, eoque tunc imprudentes et inviti stragula permingunt_.

At Gottingen, the roots are roasted and used instead of coffee by the poorer folk; and in Derbyshire the juice of the stalk is applied to remove warts. The flower of the Dandelion when fully blown is named Priest's Crown (_Caput monachi_), from the resemblance of its naked receptacle after the winged seeds have been all blown away, to the smooth shorn head of a Roman [152] cleric. So Hurdis sings in his poem _The Village Curate_:--

"The Dandelion this: A college youth that flashes for a day All gold: anon he doffs his gaudy suit, Touched by the magic hand of Bishop grave, And all at once by commutation strange Becomes a reverend priest: and then how sleek! How full of grace! with silvery wig at first So nicely trimmed, which presently grows bald. But let me tell you, in the pompous globe Which rounds the Dandelion's head is fitly couched Divinity most rare."

Boys gather the flower when ripe, and blow away the hall of its silky seed vessels at the crown, to learn the time of day, thus sportively making:--

"Dandelion with globe of down The school-boy's clock in every town."

DATE.

Dates are the most wholesome and nourishing of all our imported fruits. Children especially appreciate their luscious sweetness, as afforded by an abundant sugar which is easily digested, and which quickly repairs waste of heat and fat. With such a view, likewise, doctors now advise dates for consumptive patients; also because they soothe an irritable chest, and promote expectoration; whilst, furthermore, they prevent costiveness. Dates are the fruit of the Date palm (_Phoenix dactylifera_), or, Tree of Life.

In old English Bibles of the sixteenth century, the name Date-tree is constantly given to the Palm, and the fruit thereof was the first found by the Israelites when wandering in the Wilderness.

Oriental writers have attributed to this tree a certain semi-human consciousness. The name _Phoenix_ was [153] bestowed on the Date palm because a young shoot springs always from the withered stump of an old decayed Date tree, taking the place of the dead parent; and the specific term _Dactylifera_ refers to a fancied resemblance between clusters of the fruit and the human fingers.

The Date palm is remarkably fond of water, and will not thrive unless growing near it, so that the Arabs say: "In order to flourish, its feet must be in the water, and its head in the fire (of a hot sun)." Travellers across the desert, when seeing palm Dates in the horizon, know that wells of water will be found near at hand: at the same time they sustain themselves with Date jam.

In some parts of the East this Date palm is thought been the tree of the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. It is mystically represented as the tree of life in the sculptured foliage of early French churches, and on the primitive mosaics found in the apses of Roman Basilicas. Branches of this tree are carried about in Catholic countries on Palm Sunday. Formerly Dates were sent to England and elsewhere packed in mats from the Persian gulf; but now they arrive in clean boxes, neatly laid, and free from duty; so that a wholesome, sustaining, and palatable meal may be had for one penny, if they are eaten with bread.

The Egyptian Dates are superior, being succulent and luscious when new, but apt to become somewhat hard after Christmas.

The Dates, however, which surpass all others in their general excellence, are grown with great care at Tafilat, two or three hundred miles inland from Morocco, a region to which Europeans seldom penetrate.

These Dates travel in small packages by camel, rail, and steamer, being of the best quality, and highly valued. Their exportation is prohibited by the African [154] authorities at Tafilat, unless the fruit crop has been large enough to allow thereof after gathering the harvest with much religious ceremony.

Dates of a second quality are brought from Tunis, being intermixed with fragments of stalk and branch; whilst the inferior sorts come in the form of a cake, or paste (_adjoue!_), being pressed into baskets. In this shape they were tolerably common with us in Tudor times, and were then used for medicinal purposes. Strutt mentions a grocer's bill delivered in 1581, in which occurs the item of six pounds of dates supplied at a funeral for two shillings; and we read that in 1821 the best kind of dates cost five shillings a pound.

If taken as a portable refection by jurymen and others who may be kept from their customary food Dates will prevent exhaustion, and will serve to keep active the energies of mind and body. The fruit should be selected when large and soft, being moist, and of a reddish yellow colour outside, and not much wrinkled, whilst having within a white membrane between the flesh and the stone.

Beads for rosaries are made in Barbary from Date stones turned in a lathe; or when soaked in water for a couple of days the stones may be given to cattle as a nutritious food, being first ground in a mill. The fodder being astringent will serve by its tannin, which is abundant, to cure or prevent looseness.

In a clever parody on Bret Harte's "Heathen Chinee," an undergraduate is detected in having primed himself before examination thus:--

"Inscribed on his cuffs were the Furies, and Fates, With a delicate map of the Dorian States: Whilst they found in his palms, which were hollow, What are common in Palms--namely, Dates."

[155] Again, a conserve is prepared by the Egyptians from unripe Dates whole with sugar. The soft stones are edible: and this jam, though tasteless, is very nourishing. The Arabs say that Adam when driven out of Paradise took with him three things--the Date, chief of all fruits, Myrtle, and an ear of Wheat.

Another Palm--the _Sagus_, or, _Cycus revolute_,--which grows naturally in Japan and the East Indian Islands, being also cultivated in English hot-houses, yields by its gummy pith our highly nutritious sago. This when cooked is one of the best and most sustaining foods for children and infirm old persons. The Indians reserve their finest sago for the aged and afflicted. A fecula is washed from the abundant pith, which is chemically a starch, very demulcent, and more digestible than that of rice. It never ferments in the stomach, and is very suitable for hectic persons. By the Arabs the pith of the Date-bearing Palm is eaten in like manner. The simple wholesome virtues of this domestic substance have been told of from childhood in the well-known nursery rhyme, which has been playfully rendered into Latin and French:--

"There was an old man of Iago Whom they kept upon nothing but sago; Oh! how he did jump when the doctor said plump: 'To a roast leg of mutton you may go.'"

"Jamdudum senior quidam de rure Tobagus Invito mad das carpserat ore dapes; Sed medicus tandem non injucunda locutus: 'Assoe' dixit 'oves sunt tibi coena, senex.'"

"J'ai entendu parler d'un veillard de Tobag Qui ne mangea longtemps que du ris et du sague; Mais enfin le medecin lui dit ces mots: 'Allez vous en, mon ami, au gigot.'"

[156] DILL.

Cordial waters distilled from the fragrant herb called Dill are, as every mother and monthly nurse well know, a sovereign remedy for wind in the infant; whilst they serve equally well to correct flatulence in the grown up "gourmet." This highly scented plant (_Anethum graveolens_) is of Asiatic origin, growing wild also in some parts of England, and commonly cultivated in our gardens for kitchen or medicinal uses.

It "hath a little stalk of a cubit high, round, and joyned, whereupon do grow leaves very finely cut, like to those of Fennel, but much smaller." The herb is of the umbelliferous order, and its fruit chemically furnishes "anethol," a volatile empyreumatic oil similar to that contained in the Anise, and Caraway. Virgil speaks of the Dill in his _Second Eclogue _as the _bene olens anethum_, "a pleasant and fragrant plant." Its seeds were formerly directed to be used by the _Pharmacopoeias_ of London and Edinburgh. Forestus extols them for allaying sickness and hiccough. Gerard says: "Dill stayeth the yeox, or hicquet, as Dioscorides has taught."

The name _Anethum _was a radical Greek term (_aitho_--to burn), and the herb is still called Anet in some of our country districts. The pungent essential oil which it yields consists of a hydrocarbon, "carvene," together with an oxygenated oil; It is a "gallant expeller of the wind, and provoker of the terms." "Limbs that are swollen and cold if rubbed with the oil of Dill are much eased; if not cured thereby."

A dose of the essential oil if given for flatulent indigestion should be from two to four drops, on sugar, or with a tablespoonful of milk. Of the distilled water sweetened, one or two teaspoonfuls may be given to an infant.

[157] The name Dill is derived from the Saxon verb _dilla_, to lull, because of its tranquillizing properties, and its causing children to sleep. This word occurs in the vocabulary of Oelfric, Archbishop of Canterbury, tenth century. Dioscorides gave the oil got from the flowers for rheumatic pains, and sciatica; also a carminative water distilled from the fruit, for increasing the milk of wet nurses, and for appeasing the windy belly-aches of babies. He teaches that a teaspoonful of the bruised seeds if boiled in water and taken hot with bread soaked therein, wonderfully helps such as are languishing from hardened excrements, even though they may have vomited up their faeces.

The plant is largely grown in the East Indies, where is known as _Soyah_. Its fruit and leaves are used for flavouring pickles, and its water is given to parturient women.

Drayton speaks of the Dill as a magic ingredient in Love potions; and the weird gipsy, Meg Merrilies, crooned a cradle song at the birth of Harry Bertram in it was said:--

"Trefoil, vervain, John's wort, _Dill_, Hinder witches of their will."

DOCK.

The term Dock is botanically a noun of multitude, meaning originally a bundle of hemp, and corresponding to a similar word signifying a flock. It became in early times applied to a wide-spread tribe of broad-leaved wayside weeds. They all belong to the botanical order of _Polygonaceoe_, or "many kneed" plants, because, like the wife of Yankee Doodle, famous in song, they are "double-jointed;" though he, poor man! expecting to find Mistress Doodle doubly

## active in her household [158] duties, was, as the rhyme says,

"disappointed." The name "Dock" was first applied to the _Arctium Lappa_, or Bur-dock, so called because of its seed-vessels becoming frequently entangled by their small hooked spines in the wool of sheep passing along by the hedge-rows. Then the title got to include other broad-leaved herbs, all of the Sorrel kind, and used in pottage, or in medicine.

Of the Docks which are here recognized, some are cultivated, such as Garden Rhubarb, and the Monk's Rhubarb, or herb Patience, an excellent pot herb; whilst others grow wild in meadows, and by river sides, such as the round-leafed Dock (_Rumex obtusifolius_), the sharp-pointed Dock (_Rumex acutus_), the sour Dock (_Rumex acetosus_), the great water Dock (_Rumex hydrolapathum_), and the bloody-veined Dock (_Rumex sanguineus_).

All these resemble our garden rhubarb more or less in their general characteristics, and in possessing much tannin. Most of them chemically furnish "rumicin," or crysophanic acid, which is highly useful in several chronic diseases of the skin among scrofulous patients. The generic name of several Docks is _rumex_, from the Hebrew _rumach_, a "spear"; others arc called _lapathum_, from the Greek verb _lapazein_, to cleanse, because they act medicinally as purgatives.

The common wayside Dock (_Rumex obtusifolius_) is the most ordinary of all the Docks, being large and spreading, and so coarse that cattle refuse to eat it. The leaves are often applied as a rustic remedy to burns and scalds, and are used for dressing blisters. Likewise a popular cure for nettle stings is to rub them with a Dock leaf, saying at the same time:--

"Out nettle: in Dock; Dock shall have a new smock."

[159] or:

"Nettle out: Dock in; Dock remove the nettle sting."

A tea made from the root was formerly given for the cure of boils, and the plant is frequently called Butterdock, because its leaves are put into use for wrapping up butter. This Dock will not thrive in poor worthless soil; but its broad foliage serves to lodge the destructive turnip fly. The root when dried maybe added to tooth powder.

It was under the broad leaf of a roadside Dock that Hop o' My Thumb, famous in nursery lore, sought refuge from a storm, and was unfortunately swallowed whilst still beneath the leaf by a passing hungry cow.

The herb Patience, or Monk's Rhubarb (_Rumex alpinus_), a Griselda among herbs, may be given with admirable effect in pottage, as a domestic aperient, "loosening the belly, helping the jaundice, and dispersing the tympany." This grows wild in some parts, by roadsides, and near cottages, but is not common except as a cultivated herb ill the kitchen-garden, known as "Patience-dock." It is a remarkable fact that the toughest flesh-meat, if boiled with the herb, or with other kindred docks, will become quite tender. The name Patience, or Passions, was probably from the Italian _Lapazio_, a corruption of _Lapathum_, which was mistaken for _la passio_, the passion of Christ.

Our _Garden Rhubarb_ is a true Dock, and belongs to the "many-kneed," buckwheat order of plants. Its brilliant colouring is due to varying states of its natural pigment (_chlorophyll_), in combination with oxygen. For culinary purposes the stalk, or petiole of the broad leaf, is used. Its chief nutrient property is glucose, which is identical with grape-sugar. The agreeable taste and odour of the [160] plant are not brought out until the leaf stalks are cooked. It came originally from the Volga, and has been grown in this country since 1573. The sour taste of the stalks is due to oxalic acid, or rather to the acid oxalate of potash. This combines with the lime elaborated in the system of a gouty person (having an "oxalic acid" disposition), and makes insoluble and injurious products which have to be thrown off by the kidneys as oxalate crystals, with much attendant irritation of the general system. Sorrel (_Rumex acetosus_) acts with such a person in just the same way, because of the acid oxalate of potash which it contains.