NDER one guise or another 

 the fickle goddess Fortuna would 

 seem to have established her in- 

 fallible interpreters or mediators. 

 The lovelorn maiden with the 

 daisy, its petals falling beneath 

 her questioning finger-tips to 

 the alternate refrain, " He loves 

 me. He loves me not," is a sac- 

 rificial episode in the life of the 

 daisy wherever it grows. 



The still younger maiden with 

 her dandelion ball, whose feath- 

 ered parachutes must be dislodged upon the breeze 

 with three puffs from her little puckered mouth, 

 with all sorts of fate depending upon the odd 

 or even number of the remnant seeds, is as uni- 

 versal as the dandelion itself, while the more 

 homely symbols of wish-bone, horseshoe, or horse- 



