igo THE JOY OF GARDENS 



that has tumbled into this county. When last heard from 

 it had taken root just the other side of the line. Here, 

 you children, help me gather up the stuff. We'll go back 

 to the crossroads in our hunt and make a bonfire. Maybe 

 I can find a yellow pippin for each of you. This is worse 

 than any tramp that follows the railroad. One thing we 

 can say for it is that it pays first and eats last. But I 

 have known other villains to spend less money to carry 

 out a bigger robbery." 



Russian thistle thieves from the farmer, and keeps busy 

 sending out scouts to do mischief to its neighbors. It 

 sucks the life out of the soil, wearing its best clothes while 

 it does it. In the spring it pushes a pretty green head out 

 of the ground, blushes pale pink, turns crimson, and looks 

 so innocent that you hate to pull it up. Its beauty para- 

 lyzes the weed killer. All summer long its good looks 

 save it from suspicion. No one remembers that it is the 

 dreaded thistle. 



When autumn comes, it puts on a sober brown veil ; it 

 dries to a lacy brown, bushy ball, and looks more harmless 

 than ever. It hugs millions of seeds in its pouches. And, 

 as if dead to harm, one fine morning lets loose and sails 

 away, no doubt laughing in its vegetable heart at the 

 trick it played. Now it shall make merry after a fashion 

 of its own. 



Its hour has come for traveling; it is so light that the 

 wind hurls it for miles, so compact that it fails to catch 



