A YEAR IN THE FIELDS 



bacco. Now if they catch the Colorado 

 beetle of us, it will go far toward paying 

 them off for the rats and the mice, and for 

 other pests in our houses. 



The more attractive and pretty of the 

 British weeds — as the common daisy, of 

 which the poets have made so much, the 

 larkspur, which is a pretty cornfield weed, 

 and the scarlet field-poppy, which flowers 

 all summer, and is so taking amid the ripen- 

 ing grain — have not immigrated to our 

 shores. Like a certain sweet rusticity and 

 charm of European rural life, they do not 

 thrive readily under our skies. Our flea- 

 bane has become a common roadside weed 

 in England, and a few other of our native 

 less-known plants have gained a foothold in 

 the Old World. Our beautiful jewel-weed 

 has recently appeared along certain of the 

 English rivers. 



Pokeweed is a native American, and 

 what a lusty, royal plant it is ! It never 

 invades cultivated fields, but hovers about 

 the borders and looks over the fences like a 

 painted Indian sachem. Thoreau coveted 

 its strong purple stalk for a cane, and the 

 robins eat its dark crimson-juiced berries. 



It is commonly believed that the mullein 



148 



