gives several interesting illustrations.  Thus, “In the German folk-tale of ‘The Man of Iron,’ a princess throws a golden apple as a prize, which the hero catches three times, and carries off and wins.”  And in a French tale, “A singing apple is one of the marvels which Princess Belle-Etoile and her brothers and her cousin bring from the end of the world.”  The apple figures in many an Italian tale, and holds a prominent place in the Hungarian story of the Iron Ladislas.[3] But many of these so-called mystic trees and plants have been mentioned in the preceding pages in their association with lightning, witchcraft, demonology, and other branches of folk-lore, although numerous other curious instances are worthy of notice, some of which are collected together in the present chapter.  Thus the nettle and milfoil, when carried about the person, were believed to drive away fear, and were, on this account, frequently worn in time of danger.  The laurel preserved from misfortune, and in olden times we are told how the superstitious man, to be free from every chance of ill-luck, was wont to carry a bay leaf in his mouth from morning till night.

One of the remarkable virtues of the fruit of the balm was its prolonging the lives of those who partook of it to four or five hundred years, and Albertus Magnus, summing up the mystic qualities of the heliotrope, gives this piece of advice:—­“Gather it in August, wrap it in a bay leaf with a wolf’s tooth, and it will, if placed under the pillow, show a man who has been robbed where are his goods, and who has taken them.  Also, if placed in a church, it will keep fixed in their places all the women present who have broken their marriage vow.”  It was formerly supposed that the cucumber had the power of killing by its great coldness, and the larch was considered impenetrable by fire; Evelyn describing it as “a goodly tree, which is of so strange a composition that ’twill hardly burn.”

In addition to guarding the homestead from ill, the hellebore was regarded as a wonderful antidote against madness, and as such is spoken of by Burton, who introduces it among the emblems of his frontispiece, in his “Anatomie of Melancholy:”—­

  “Borage and hellebore fill two scenes,
  Sovereign plants to purge the veins
  Of melancholy, and cheer the heart
  Of those black fumes which make it smart;
  To clear the brain of misty fogs,
  Which dull our senses and Soul clogs;
  The best medicine that e’er God made
  For this malady, if well assay’d.”

But, as it has been observed, our forefathers, in strewing their floors with this plant, were introducing a real evil into their houses, instead of an imaginary one, the perfume having been considered highly pernicious to health.