and saying: _In
nominee Patris, Filii, et Spiritus Sancti_." The Meleflower is the
_Achilloea Ptarmica_ or Sneezewort.

By the plant so gathered, she was enabled to cure distempers, and to
impart the faculty of prediction.

YEW.

Although the Yew--a Conifer--which is so thoroughly English a
tree, is known to be highly poisonous as regards its leaves to the
humans subject, and as concerning its loppings or half-dead
branches, to oxen, horses, and asses, yet a medicinal tincture (H.) is
made from the young shoots, which has distinct and curative uses.
Both the Yew and the Ivy were called _abiga_, because [620]
causing abortion. From which word when corrupted was formed
_iua_; and under this latter name, says Dr. Prior, the Ivy and the
Yew became inextricably mixed up.

Moreover, the red berries, or their coloured fleshy cups, are not
poisonous when taken in moderation, but rejecting the seeds.

Gerard says: "When I was yong, and went to schoole, divers of my
school-fellows and likewise myself, did eat our fils of the berries of
this tree, and have not only slept under the shadow thereof, but
among the branches also, without any hurt at all, and that not one
time, but many times."

Yet Leo Grindon says, much more recently: "Though the juice and
pulp of the sweet and viscid berries are not harmful, still the _seeds_
of the Yew, and the _leaves_ are deadly poison."

In the _Herbal_ of 1578, Lyte tells us the Yew is altogether
venomous, and against man's nature. "Such as do but only sleep
under the shadow thereof become sick, and sometimes they die;"
and, "the extract of yew is used by ignorant apothecaries to the great
peril and danger of the poor diseased people."

The Yew tree (_Taxus baccata_) occurs in mountainous woods and
rocky glens about Britain, but is rare as of native growth. Its name,
Taxus, is a corruption of toxos, an arrow, since arrows in the old
time were poisoned with the juice of yew.

The tree was planted frequently by our forefathers in churchyards,
because of its value in the manufacture of bows. It is exceedingly
long lived, and often attains great magnitude of girth.

A ghastly superstition was attached to the Yew when thus growing
in a churchyard, that it would prey upon [621] the dead bodies lying
beneath its sombre shade. So Tennyson writes (_In Memoriam_):--

"Old Yew! which graspest at the stones
That name the underlying dead,
Thy fibres net the dreamless head,