There is a species of hibiscus growing in New South Wales, the showy flowers of which contain a large proportion of mucilaginous juice of a glossy, varnish-like appearance. Chinese ladies use the juice for dyeing their hair and eyebrows. In Java the flowers are used for blacking shoes.
St. John's Wort.
The common people in France and Germany gather this plant with great ceremony on St. John's day, and hang it in their windows as a charm against thunder and evil spirits. In Scotland it is carried about as a charm against witchcraft and enchantment, and the people fancy it cures ropy milk, which they suppose to be under some malignant influence. As the flowers, when rubbed between the fingers, yield a red juice, it has obtained the name of Sanguis hominis (human blood) among some fanciful medical writers.
The young maid stole through the cottage door,
And blushed as she sought the plant of pow'r—
"Thou silver glow-worm, O lend me thy light,
I must gather the mystic St. John's wort to-night."
Vegetable Fungus.
At the beginning of the present century Sir Joseph Banks, of London, had a cask of wine which was too sweet for immediate use, and it was placed in the cellar to become mellowed by age. At the end of three years he directed his butler to ascertain the condition of the wine, when, on attempting to open the cellar door, he could not effect it in consequence of some powerful resistance. The door was cut down, and the cellar was found completely filled with a firm fungus vegetable production—so firm that it was necessary to use an ax for its removal. This had grown from and had been nourished by the decomposed particles of the wine. The cask was empty and touched the ceiling, where it was supported by the surface of the fungus.—Hone.
The Rose at Midsummer.
The gathering of a rose on midsummer eve was once superstitiously associated with the choice of a husband. The custom is stated to be a relic of Druidical times, and is thus mentioned in the Connoisseur, No. 50:—
"Our maid Betty tells me, that if I go backward, without speaking a word, into the garden, upon midsummer eve, and gather a rose, and keep it in a clean sheet of paper without looking at it until Christmas day, it will be as fresh as in June; and if I then stick it in my bosom, he that is to be my husband will come and take it out."
Another custom was to gather the rose and seal it up while the clock was striking twelve at mid-day.