INTRODUCTION 



black heads are rapidly disappearing before the claims 

 of the younger generation. The vines of the Wild 

 Morning-Glory have taken possession of the wire fences, 

 and the tangles of the fence corners, are adorable with 

 youth and beauty, for June has just melted into July 

 and the high-tide of the year is upon us. One by one 

 the members of the choir show in their places, and by 

 the middle of July the full chorus is well under way. 



Of the one hundred and fifty plants noticeable on 

 our summer roadsides, sixty-five are aliens; Asiatics, 

 Europeans, Central Americans. They were not born 

 yesterday. They have been upon their travels for 

 ages. They are the vagabonds of the floral world. 

 They have pushed their way over the mountain walls 

 of India, they have crowded along the dusty highways 

 of Europe, they have embarked on merchant vessels 

 bound for the New World, no doubt some of them 

 shipped with Columbus on the mere chance of a home. 



One wonders at first why so many of our weeds are 

 foreign, but if we recall the natural conditions of this 

 country, the reason is plain. At the coming of the 

 Europeans, from the Atlantic coast to the Valley of 

 the Mississippi, from the St. Lawrence to the Gulf, 

 there was not one dusty sunny roadside on the 

 continent. The native flowers of eastern North 

 America are woodland plants. There had never been 

 any other conditions, therefore none of these native 

 flowers had ever harmonized with a dusty, sunny 

 environment, and when these conditions at length 

 presented themselves, the Europeans were ready 

 for the conditions. They were prepared to thrive in 

 drought, flourish in neglect, and hold their own against 

 warfare and abuse. They came in every bushel of 



