Autumn 



ing sister, the common stick- tight, whose 

 ugly brownish flower-heads are frequent 

 in moist, waste places, is equally tenaci- 

 ous of life — and of our clothes, to which 

 its barbed seed-vessels cling so persistently 

 that every walk across country means that 

 we have innocently extended its unwel- 

 come sway. 



Indeed, we can hardly spend a morn- 

 ing out of doors at this season without 

 having our attention drawn constantly to 

 the many ingenious devices adopted by 

 the different plants for the distribution of 

 their seed. On ourselves and on our dogs 

 we find not only the troublesome barbs 

 of the stick-tight, but also the flat, hooked 

 pods of the tick-trefoils, the bristly fruit 

 of avens and goose-grass, and the prickly 

 heads of the burdock. In the thicket the 

 birds are already stripping the dogwoods 

 of their red, blue, and lead-colored ber- 

 ries, either releasing the seeds upon the 

 spot or carrying them to some other and 

 142 



