root was of great use to Circe, who, by the magic of simples, wrought so many wonders.

The mention made of mandrakes in the thirtieth chapter of Genesis, has proved the source of much discussion; though it is quite evident that some other species of plant was spoken of, as being a thing much prized. St. Augustine, who has commented on this passage, says, "It was a great curiosity to behold, as it was very beautiful to the eye;" but wondered why Rachael should set so high a value upon it, unless for its scarceness.

Pliny says, that Pythagoras composed a book on the magical virtues of plants, and first called the mandrake anthropomorphous, or man-shaped; this gave rise to the common practice of imposing on the ignorant by cutting the roots of briony into such a form. "There are many," says Mr. Martyn, "in several parts of Europe, who carry about and sell roots to ignorant people, which handsomely make out the shape of a man or woman; but these are not the production of nature, but contrivances of art, as divers have noted, and Matthiolus plainly detected and exposed. He learned this way of trickery from a vagabond cheater under his care; his words are, 'that is vain and fabulous which ignorant people and simple women believe, for the roots which are carried about by impostors, to deceive unfruitful women, are made of the roots of briony, and other plants; for in these, yet fresh and virent, they carve out the figures of men and women, first sticking therein the grains of barley or millet, where they intend the hair should grow; then bury them in sand until the grains shoot forth their roots, which at the longest will happen in twenty days; afterwards they clip and trim those tender

strings in the fashion of beard, and other hairy teguments *.'" Though much out of repute, even in "I have had them very

Martyn's time, he says,

gravely offered me for sale."

Another virtue of this root was the power of procuring sleep. Cleopatra thus asks for it,

"Give me to drink mandragora.

Charmian. Why, Madam?

Cleopat. That may sleep out this great gap of time my Antony is away."

And lago, having basely deceived Othello, with a malignant joy, adds,—

"Not poppy nor mandragora,

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,

Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow'dst yesterday."

The plant which in its natural form more faithfully represents an animal is the Scythian or Tartarian Lamb, or Barometz, in the language of the country; and, as it grows, it might, at a short distance, be taken for an animal rather than a vegetable production. It is one of the genus Polypodium: root decumbent, thick clothed with a very soft close wool, of a deep yellow colour, stipes from one foot and a half in length, appearing above the ground. It is well known to be a root which, from the variety of its shape, is easily made to take the form of a lamb, which the Tartars call Barometz. In China it is known by the name of Rufous Dog. Towards one end of the root, it fre

There is an admirable specimen of this species of imposture, still to be seen, the property of a gentleman, who was applied to for permission to have it copied, but he refused his consent.

quently becomes narrower, and then thicker, so as to give the resemblance of head and neck, and has sometimes two pendulous hanging excrescences, resembling ears; at the other end is a short root, resembling a tail.

Mr. Bell, in his "Journey to Ispahan," thus describes a specimen he saw: "It seemed to be made by art to imitate a lamb. It is said to eat up and devour all the grass and weeds within its reach. Though it may be thought that an opinion so very absurd could never find credit with people of the meanest understanding, yet I have conversed with some who were much inclined to believe it; so very prevalent is the prodigious and absurd with some part of mankind. Among the more sensible and experienced Tartars, I found they laughed at it as a ridiculous fable." Lou

X

reiro affirms that the fresh root when cut yields a tenacious gum, like the blood of animals, and is used as a styptic to stop the bleeding of wounds.

De la Croix, in his "Connubia Florum," gives the following classical description of it :

Surgit humo Baromes. Præcelsa in stipite fructus,
Stat quadrupes. Olli Vellus. Duo Cornua fronte
Lanea, nec desunt oculi; rudis accola credit
Esse animal, dormire die, vigilare per umbram,
Et circum exesis pasci radicitùs herbis

Carnibus ambrosiæ, sapor est succique rubentes
Post habeat quibus aliena suum Burgundiæ nectar,
Atque loco, referre pedem, natura dedisset,
Balatu si posset, opem implorare voracis

Ora lupi contra, credas in stirpe sedere

Agnum equidem, gregibusque agnorum albescere colles.

Dr. Darwin, in his "Loves of the Plants," with poetic licence, adopting the fable says-

"E'en round the pole the flames of love aspire,

And icy bosoms feel the sacred fire:

Cradled in snow, and fauned by arctic air,
Shines, gentle Baromes, thy golden hair;
Rooted in earth, each cloven hoof descends,
And round and round her flexile neck she bends,
Crops the gray coral moss, and hoary thyme,
Or laps with rosy tongue the melting rime,
Eyes with mute tenderness her distant dam,
Or seems to bleat, a Vegetable Lamb."

The rare but occasional occurrence of vegetation in certain trees and shrubs, happening to take place about the period of our Saviour's birth, induced the superstitious peasant to believe, that such trees threw out their leaves with a holy joy, to commemorate that anniversary; as in like manner oxen and stags were supposed, and had been seen, to kneel down at

midnight on Christmas Eve, in humble adoration. Shakspeare has beautifully described this tradition, when the Ghost in Hamlet disappears at the crowing of the cock:

"It faded on the crowing of the cock.

Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long :
And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad:
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes; no witch hath power to charm ;
So hallowed, and so gracious is the time.

An oak of the early-budding species has, for two centuries, enjoyed a fame for pious gratitude, for it was considered a matter of fact with many, that it shot forth its leaves on every Old Christmas-day, and that no leaf was to be seen before, or even after, that day during winter. A lady, in 1786, curious to prove the truth of this assertion, proceeded to Cadenham, in the New Forest, where the oak grew. On the third of January, the usual guide was ready to attend her; and on being desired to climb the oak, and search whether there were any leaves, he said, it would be to no purpose, but if she came on the Wednesday following she might see a thousand. He was prevailed on, however, to climb up, and on the first branch he reached, there appeared several new. leaves, fresh sprouted from the buds, nearly half an inch long. The guide was more astonished than the lady at this premature production, for so strong was his belief in the truth of the whole tradition, that he

The sudden departure of ghosts from the earth at that period of the morning is a matter of ancient belief. Philostratus, giving an account of the apparition of Achilles' shade to Apollonius Tyaneus, says, that it vanished with a little glimmer as soon as the cock crowed.