name was attached to our present tree, and it is so called by Gerard and
Parkinson.

The Sycamore is chiefly planted for its rapid growth rather than for
its beauty. It becomes a handsome tree when fully grown, but as a young
tree it is stiff and heavy, and at all times it is so infested with
honeydew as to make it unfit for planting on lawns or near paths. It
grows well in the north, where other trees will not well flourish, and
"we frequently meet with the tree apart in the fields, or unawares in
remote localities amidst the Lammermuirs and the Cheviots, where it is
the surviving witness of the former existence of a hamlet there. Hence
to the botanical rambler it has a more melancholy character than the
Yew. It throws him back on past days, when he who planted the tree was
the owner of the land and of the Hall, and whose name and race are
forgotten even by tradition. . . . And there is reasonable pride in the
ancestry when a grove of old gentlemanly Sycamores still shadows the
Hall."--JOHNSTON. But these old Sycamores were not planted only for
beauty: they were sometimes planted for a very unpleasant use. "They
were used by the most powerful barons in the West of Scotland for
hanging their enemies and refractory vassals on, and for this reason
were called _dool_ or grief trees. Of these there are three yet
standing, the most memorable being one near the fine old castle of
Cassilis, one of the seats of the Marquis of Ailsa, on the banks of the
River Doon. It was used by the family of Kennedy, who were the most
powerful barons of the West of Scotland, for the purpose above
mentioned."--JOHNS.

The wood of the Sycamore is useful for turning and a few other purposes,
but is not very durable. The sap, as in all the Maples, is full of
sugar, and the pollen is very curious; "it appears globular in the
microscope, but if it be touched with anything moist, the globules burst
open with four valves, and then they appear in the form of a
cross."--MILLER.

THISTLE (_see also_ HOLY THISTLE).

(1) _Burgundy._

And nothing teems
But hateful Docks, rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burs.

_Henry V_, act v, sc. 2 (51).

(2) _Bottom._

Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your weapons ready
in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble bee on the top
of a Thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag.