ecorations on the great day of
their lives. It was meant to typify fruitfulness, and it is to be noted
that the orange-tree bears both fruit and blossom at the same time, and
is remarkable for its productiveness. It is possible, then, that the
idea of orange-blossom for bridal decoration was brought from the East
by the Crusaders; but it is uncertain at what date the custom began to
be followed in England. However introduced, and whether retained as a
symbol or merely for the exquisite beauty of the flower, it will
continue to hold its place in the affections of the maiden-bride, to
whom it seems to sing:

'Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,
Long continuance and increasing,
Hourly joys be still upon you,
Juno sings her blessings on you.'

CHAPTER X.

ROSEMARY FOR REMEMBRANCE.

'Doth not Rosemary and Romeo both begin with a letter?' asks Juliet's
nurse. Yes, but what did she mean by the query, and by the further
remark that 'Juliet hath the prettiest sententions of it, of you and
rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it'? For answer we must make
some search into the beliefs and customs of the past.

Rosemary is the 'Ros-marinus' of the old herbalists, but it is not a
native of Britain, and there is no exact record of when it was
introduced here from the South of Europe. Mention of 'Ros-marinus'
occurs in an Anglo-Saxon vocabulary of the eleventh century, where it is
translated Feld-madder and Sun-dew. There is some doubt whether this has
reference to the actual plant now known to us as rosemary, but in no
case was it the Rose of Mary, as some have supposed. It is not a rose,
and the 'Mary' is from 'marinus,' or 'maris.' The old English spelling
was Rosmarin, or Rosmarine; in these forms one finds the word used by
Gower, and Shenstone, and other old poets.

In the South of Europe the rosemary has long had magic properties
ascribed to it. The Spanish ladies used to wear it as an antidote
against the evil eye, and the Portuguese called it the Elfin plant, and
dedicated it to the fairies. The idea of the antidote may have been due
to a confusion of the name with that of the Virgin; but as a matter of
fact the 'Ros-marinus' is frequently mentioned by old Latin writers,
including Horace and Ovid. The name came from the fondness of the plant
for the sea-shore, where it often gets sprinkled with the 'ros,' or dew
of the sea, that is to say, sea-spray. Another cause of confusion,
perhaps, was that t