sun-kissed, fragrant, luscious, wet scarlet berries nodding among
the grass, or eating the huge cultivated fruit smothered with
sugar and cream, one fervently quotes Dr. Boteler with dear old
lzaak Walton. Shakespeare says : "My lord of Ely, when I was last
in Holborn, I saw good strawberries in your garden there." Is not
this the first reference to the strawberry under cultivation?
Since the time of Henry V, what multitudes of garden varieties
past the reckoning have been evolved from the smooth, conic
EUROPEAN WOOD STRAWBERRY (F. vesca) now naturalized in our
Eastern and Middle States, as well as from our own precious
pitted native! Some authorities claim the berry received its name
from the straw laid between garden rows to keep the fruit clean,
but in earliest Anglo-Saxon it was called streowberie, and later
straberry, from the peculiarity of its straying suckers lying as
if strewn on the ground; and so, after making due allowance for
the erratic, go-as-you-please spelling of early writers, it would
seem that there might be two theories as to the origin of the
name.

Since the different sexes of these flowers frequently occur on
separate plants, good reason have they to woo insect messengers
with a showy corolla, a ring of nectar, and abundant pollen to be
transferred while they are feasted. Lucky is the gardener who
succeeds in keeping birds from pecking their share of the berries
which, of course, were primarily intended for them. In English
gardens one is almost certain to find a thrush or two imprisoned
under the nets so futilely spread over strawberry beds, just as
their American cousin, the robin, is caught here in June.

A young botanist may be interested to note the difference in the