18 THE AMERICAN BOTANIST 



But apparently there was more than one divinity shaping 

 my ends. The very next morning, as I was walking along 

 the railroad tracks in South Milwaukee, on my way to break- 

 fast at the Bucyrus Steam- Shovel cafeteria, I spied a clump 

 of blue dandelions in full bloom. 



Now, if I had not just heard from the reverend father, 

 this sight would have filled me with supreme joy. But, as it 

 was, it came as a sort of anticlimax. It was as if Sir Galahad, 

 after nine weary years of search for the Holy Grail, had re- 

 turned home successful, only to find all the five-and-ten-cent 

 stores .displaying hundreds of Grails in their windows. 



But there was this consolation: these C. & N. W. dande- 

 lions were n't exactly blue — they were more of a purple. Then 

 a horrible thought struck me ! Perhaps my memory was at 

 fault after all these years, and the original blue dandelions 

 hadn't been a true blue! 



Anyhow, I have collected the seeds and destroyed the 

 plants. With these seeds and the ones received from the 

 reverend father, I may be able to establish a monopoly, after 

 all. 



My quest is at an end ? Perhaps. And yet I cannot help 

 feeling that there's many a slip between the seed and the blue 

 dandelion. Something may happen to my crop. I may yet 

 be sorry that I have burned my dandelion plants behind me ; 

 that I have killed the plants that bore the golden seeds. 



