APART from its rich glowing colour, its eagerness to 

 greet the spring, and its contented gladdening of 

 latest autumn, the Dandelion can be loved for the 

 enemies it has made* It is the enemy of the all- 

 destroying grass that obtrudes in every suburban 

 wood, relentlessly killing off the delicate wild 

 flowers and transforming the varying labyrinth 

 into monotonous sod. No one can watch the grass 

 year after year slowly killing off the spring beauty, 

 the Blood-root, the Bellwort, and other varied 

 delicacies of the new season, without feeling a 

 vindictive pleasure when the Dandelion comes along 

 and elbows a conspicuous place for itself. Grass is 

 to many an object of solicitude bordering on venera- 

 tion. To a still wider circle it is a thing to keep off, 

 and few regard it with complete indifference. To 

 walk on a white man's grass is as great an affront as 

 to cast your shadow on a Hindoo's food. Children 

 are enjoined from playing upon it, and its proper 



59 



