THE death of poor Joseph had spread consternation through the village. If children left the house and went off into the fields, there was constant anxiety until they returned. They might find poisonous plants that would tempt them with their flowers or their berries, and poison them. Many said, with reason, that the best way to prevent these terrible accidents was to know the dangerous plants and teach the children to beware of them. They went and found Ma?tre Paul, whose great knowledge was appreciated by all, and asked him to teach them the poisonous plants of the neighborhood. So Sunday evening there was a numerous gathering at Uncle Paul’s. Besides his two nephews and his niece, Jacques and Mother Ambroisine, there were Simon, who had come upon the two unfortunate children on his way home from the mill, Jean the miller, André the plowman, Philippe the vine-dresser, Antoine, Mathieu, and many others. The day before, Uncle Paul had taken a walk in the country to gather the plants he was to talk about. A large bunch of the principal poisonous plants, some in blossom, others with berries, were in a pitcher of water on the table.

“There are people, my friends,” he began, “who shut their eyes so as not to see danger, and think themselves safe because they wilfully ignore peril. There are others who inform themselves about what may be a menace to them, persuaded that one warned person may be worth two unwarned. You belong to this latter class, and I congratulate you. Countless ills lie in wait for us; let us try to diminish their number by our vigilance, instead of giving ourselves up to lazy carelessness. Now that a frightful misfortune has overtaken one of our families, who does not realize the extreme importance of our all knowing, so as to avoid them, these terrible plants that claim victims every year? If this knowledge were more extended, the poor little fellow whose loss we now lament would still be his mother’s consolation. Ah! unfortunate child!”

Belladonna

Uncle Paul, whom thunder never caused even to knit his brows, had tears in his eyes and his voice trembled. The good Simon, who had seen the two children in each other’s arms under the hedge, felt more moved than the others at this recollection. He pulled down the broad rim of his hat to hide the big tears that were rolling down his rough cheeks bronzed by the sun. After a few moments of silence Uncle Paul continued:

“The death of the unfortunate little boy was caused by belladonna. It is a rather large weed with reddish bell-shaped flowers. The berries are round, purplish-black, and resemble cherries. The leaves are oval and pointed at the end. The whole plant has a nauseous odor and a somber appearance, as if to announce the poison it conceals. The berries particularly are dangerous because they may tempt children by their resemblance to cherries and their sweetish taste. Enlargement of the pupil of the eye and a dull, fixed stare are the characteristics of belladonna poisoning.”

Paul took from the bouquet in the pitcher a sprig of belladonna, and passed it around in the audience so that each one could examine the plant closely.

“What do you say that is called?” asked Jean.

“Belladonna.”

“Belladonna; good. I know that weed. I have often found it near the mill, in shady places. Who would believe those pretty cherries held such a frightful poison.”

Here André asked: “What does the word belladonna mean?”

“It is an Italian word meaning fine lady. Formerly, it seems, ladies used the juice of this plant to keep their complexion white.”

“That is a property that does not concern our brown skin. What concerns us is this confounded berry which may tempt our children.”

“Are not our herds in danger when this weed grows in pastures?” Antoine next inquired.

“It is very seldom that animals touch poisonous plants; they avoid browsing what might harm them, warned by the odor, and above all by instinct.

“This other plant with large leaves, whose flowers, red on the outside and spotted on the inside with white and purple, are arranged in a long and magnificent cluster almost as high as a man, is called digitalis. The flowers have the form of long, tun-bellied bells, or rather of glove-fingers; therefore it is called by different names, all referring to this peculiarity.”

Fox-glove

“If I am not mistaken,” said Jean, “it is what we call fox-glove. It is common on the edges of woods.”

“We call it fox-glove on account of its resemblance to the thumb of a glove. For the same reason it has elsewhere the name of gloves of Notre-Dame, gloves of the Virgin, and finger-stall. The name digitalis, borrowed from the Latin, also refers to the finger-shaped flower.”

“It is a great pity that fine plant is poisonous,” commented Simon; “it would be a pleasure to see it in our gardens.”

“It is, indeed, cultivated as an ornamental plant, but in gardens under stricter vigilance than ours. As for us, my friends, who hardly have time to watch over flowers, we shall do well not to put digitalis within reach of children by introducing it in our gardens. The whole plant is poisonous. It has the singular property of slowin............