192 THE JOY OF GARDENS 



next year by gathering the dodder berries and casting 

 them into the fire with the tumbleweed. It, too, bears the 

 garb of innocence, appearing an inoffensive, slender vine 

 curling affectionately about a flower stem. Like the Rus- 

 sian thistle, dodder belongs to the rank and file of Satan's 

 great army of evildoers. 



"Yes, dodder is another society parasite," mused the 

 cynic, rubbing his spectacles. "I know the type well. 

 Under the guise of gentleness it sneaks into your privacy, 

 invades your secret thoughts, feeds on your comforts and 

 hospitality, and, while appearing well before the world of 

 fashion, it gives not a whit for its entertainment or its 

 living. The dodder parasites are among the most hateful 

 things of society. They are like leeches, crying 'More, 

 more,' and when they have worn you out, wasted your 

 substance, they fling you aside and take up with your 

 enemy, if he happen to have comforts worth pursuit. 

 Root out the dodder, children; crush it under your heel. 

 The woods and the world are full of dodder parasites." 



