CROWDED OUT. 



One summer a little plantain grew 

 close by a stalk in a cornfield. Every 

 time the plow or the cultivator came 

 alon,2;', the plantain was glad that he was 

 so close to the cornstalk. All his com- 

 rades were ruthlessly cut down and he 

 was left alone. All he could see was 

 corn, corn, corn all around, and only a 

 speck of the blue sky overhead. 



In his loneliness he tried to get the 

 corn to talk, but his efforts were in vain. 

 How^ever, the little plantain rejoiced and 

 congratulated himself that he had been 

 able to ripen hundreds of seeds, and that, 

 if he lived, he might have some company 

 the next summer. He at least liked to 

 hope that. 



The long hot summer was drawing- to 

 a close when one day he felt something 

 drop on the head of his flower stalk. 



''What is that?" exclaimed he, jerking 

 his head to one side. 



''Nothing but a mustard seed," replied 

 a strange voice. 



"I am so glad to see you," said the 

 lonely plantain. "I have stood here alone 

 all summer long. What a dreary time I 

 have had of it! From morning until 

 night I see nothing but cornstalks which 

 are so high-headed and aristocratic that 

 they wi)l not deign to neighbor with me. 

 One day they told me to be quiet and 

 leave them alone, for they were too busy 

 to even talk — they were just growing, 

 growing, growing every minute of the 

 time. 



"You see, having set his mind upon 

 getting a certain sum of silver from this 

 field, the farmer gives the corn such good 

 care that it is trying to do its best for 

 liim. I Io)v T wish that he would care 

 ff)r mc! T must quake with fear every 

 time I hear a footstep or a rustic. 



"You do not know how glad I am to 

 have company," said the plantain ; "but I 

 am afraid that the farmer may not let 

 cither of us stay another year. How did 

 you get here, anyhow?" 



"A bird that had been over in the 

 meadow on the other side of the house, 

 and that was flying across this field, 

 dropped me," said the mustard seed. 



"Well, well! The farmer's old hen 

 brought me here on her feet," replied the 

 plantain. 



The beautiful fall days had come. 

 The farmer and his men were gathering 

 the corn. Followed by his playful shep- 

 lierd dog, the farmer's little boy came out 

 in the field with his father. As the two 

 playfellows were having a romp, a 

 rounding thing covered with spines that 

 had caught in Rover's coat, was brushed 

 off. The newcomer w^as a queer little 

 thing and was ever so much larger than 

 the mustard seed. 



Both the plantain and the mustard seed 

 watched it suspiciously, but they feared 

 to speak until all the hands were out of 

 hearing. 



"Who are you, we would like to 

 know?" asked the plantain haughtily. 



"You needn't fear; I wouldn't touch 

 you. I catch hold of only travelers who 

 can carry me about. I am a cockle-bur 

 — but you are no better than I." 



"We are very glad t.o have you here," 

 replied the plantain in a more friendly 

 voice. "This has been a very lonely 

 summer." 



A few days later the friends were 

 exchanging- experiences. "I came from 

 thie barnyard," explained the plantain. 

 "There were so many of us besides our 

 family. There were the purslane, the 

 Jamestown weed nnd the smartweed, all 



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