A Handful of Weeds 351 



tinuous war. We can almost say that the worse 

 nuisance a weed is from the agricultural standpoint, 

 the more highly is it adapted to the conditions of 

 its life, the more is it a triumph of reproductive 

 Nature. 



It is common just because it has been able to 

 travel, to endure, to survive, to live down and 

 crowd out a host of things, prettier perhaps, but 

 less able to battle for existence. 



Some weeds have timed themselves with won- 

 derful accuracy to the operations of the farmer. 

 That bugbear of English wheat-growers, the scar- 

 let-poppy, has acquired the habit of ripening its 

 seed-vessels at the precise time when the wheat is 

 ready for the sickle. 



In our land and latitude, after wheat is reaped, 

 the fields are taken possession of by weeds which 

 regulate their affairs with such nicety that they 

 grow, blow, mature their seed-vessels, and scatter 

 their seed, all between the ingathering of the har- 

 vest and the coming of the frost. 



"They blow," we say, for all weeds bear flowers. 

 Most sorts belong to that immense and successful 

 botanical family, the Compositae, which produce a 

 very great number of very minute flowers, often so 

 grouped as to resemble single larger flowers. To 



