November 
spring to appear in every open place; it is 
summed up in its blossom, like the sparrow in 
its song; with the same delightful persistence, 
in its mute, bright way it tells its simple tale 
through spring, summer, and autumn—a gold- 
en thread to bind the months from April to 
November, until at last it punctuates the long 
year’s inflorescence with a shining period. 
The dandelion is witness to the fact how 
much of truth there is involved, and often un- 
perceived, in common things. How many had 
ever noticed, until Darwin (I think it was he) 
called attention to the clear purpose of a pe- 
culiarity in this plant — which everyone must 
wonder he had not noticed for himself—viz., 
that the short and commonly drooping stem of 
the blossom becomes much elongated and erect 
as the seeds ripen, with the evident design of 
raising its head above the grass or other sur- 
rounding vegetation, and affording free expos- 
ure to the winds to scatter the feathery seeds? 
We have all seen millions of these yellow disks 
—spatters of molten sun-drops—close to the 
ground, and noted the tall pedestals support- 
ing the subsequent downy spheres, without a 
thought of any significance in the change. 
This lowly weed can at least teach us the lesson 
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