Again and again, the Onion, whose name today is only mentioned with bated breath, crops up among old plant superstitions. Because of its structure of enveloping sheaths, the Egyptians rightly considered it a splendid symbol of the universe. In Christian days, St. Thomas patronized it. Its cousin, the Leek, bears the blossom which Welshmen still hail as their national flower. It is worn by all loyal patriots on March first, St. David’s Day.
The Thistle, Scotland’s national flower, was once sacred to Thor. In those days it was regarded as a safeguard against lightning, from which it got its colour. Ireland’s Shamrock belongs to the Trefoil family, and is sometimes called Dutch Clover, though the Wood-Sorrel is claimed by some to be the true Shamrock. St. Patrick once used it as a natural symbol of the trinity, through which it became nationalized.
Superstitions of the four-leafed Clover have lingered in the imaginations of men almost more than those of any other plant. To be efficacious in bringing good luck, the little talisman must be found unawares. If slipped into the shoe of a lover, it will insure his safe return. The finding of a five-leaved Clover brings bad luck.
Superstition plays its part in the evolution of knowledge, and speculation is the parent of modern science. Astrologers, reading the fortunes of nations and individuals in the stars, paved the way for the great and exact science of astronomy. Studious alchemists in searching for a cheap way to make gold, laid the foundations of the profound science of chemistry. In a similar way, the old herbalists, with their secret potions and mysterious compounds, were the instigators of the accurate study of medicine, and most important from our standpoint, were instruments which greatly advanced the love and growing appreciation of plants and flowers.
CHAPTER XII
Mysticism in the Plant World
“Who passeth by the Rosemarie
And careth not to take the spraye,
For woman’s love no care has he,
Nor shall he though he live for aye.”
One day John G. Allen of Cherry, Arizona, went fishing along a small tributary of the River Verde. His skill with the rod seeming to fail him, he decided to make his outing profitable in other directions by hunting through some neighbouring cliff-dwellings for pottery. While wandering through those ancient and curious abodes, he accidentally discovered a section of wall which looked as though it might have been built to close a former opening. Careful investigation revealed the truth of this surmise, for, with a little perseverance, he broke through and removed enough stone to admit his body into a small room or recess, which contained some pottery and household utensils of extreme age.
In one corner of this prehistoric place, Mr. Allen discovered a few Corn cobs and about a dozen Squash seeds. More as a joke than anything else, he planted twelve of the seeds the next spring.
Eleven of them remained insensate to the revivifying influence of earth, sun and water, but the twelfth took courage and, bursting the walls which had imprisoned it for hundreds and possibly thousands of years, sprang up into a hardy, healthy vine, which eventually bore a huge, green, extremely warty Squash weighing nearly twenty-five pounds. This vegetable visitor from a shadowy age was named the “Aztec,” and attained great fame.
There have been other and more striking instances of the suspended animation which permits plant life to lie quiescent for countless centuries, ready for an opportune time to resume the regular cycle of its existence. There are those who are always ready to cry “fraud,” and conclusively prove these marvels false, but there is abundant evidence to show that plant embryos can and, in some cases, do survive long periods of time.