The rare but occasional occurrence of vegetation in certain trees and shrubs, happening to take place at the period of Christ's birth, gave rise to the belief that such trees threw out their leaves with a holy joy to commemorate that anniversary. An oak of the early budding species for two centuries enjoyed such a notoriety, having been said to shoot forth its leaves on old Christmas Day, no leaf being seen either before or after that day during winter. There was the famous Glastonbury thorn, and in the same locality a walnut tree was reported never to put forth its leaves before the feast of St. Barnabas, the 11th June. The monkish legend runs thus: Joseph of Arimathaea, after landing at no great distance from Glastonbury, walked to a hill about a mile from the town. Being weary he sat down here with his companions, the hill henceforth being nicknamed "Weary-All-Hill," locally abbreviated into "Werral." Whilst resting Joseph struck his staff into the ground, which took root, grew, and blossomed every Christmas Day. Previous to the time of Charles I a branch of this famous tree was carried in procession, with much ceremony, at Christmas time, but during the Civil War the tree was cut down.
Many plants, again, as the "Sesame" of the "Arabian Nights," had the power of opening doors and procuring an entrance into caverns and mountain sides--a survival of which we find in the primrose or key-flower of German legend. Similarly, other plants, such as the golden-rod, have been renowned for pointing to hidden springs of water, and revealing treasures of gold and silver. Such fabulous properties have been also assigned to the hazel-branch, popularly designated the divining-rod:--
"Some sorcerers do boast they have a rod, Gather'd with vows and sacrifice, And, borne aloft, will strangely nod The hidden treasure where it lies."
With plants of the kind we may compare the wonder-working moonwort (_Botrychium lunaria_), which was said to open locks and to unshoe horses that trod on it, a notion which Du Bartas thus mentions in his "Divine Weekes"--
"Horses that, feeding on the grassy hills, Tread upon moonwort with their hollow heels, Though lately shod, at night go barefoot home, Their maister musing where their shoes become. O moonwort! tell me where thou bid'st the smith, Hammer and pinchers, thou unshodd'st them with.