326 Field, Forest, and Wayside Flowers 
The gorse (Fig. 92), the hawthorne, and the 
orange-tree are guarded by thorns indeed. But 
” 
the so-called ‘‘thorns’’ which mar our delight in 
the queen of flowers are in reality prickles, and 
so are the natural defences of the blackberry and 
the thistle. 
Further south, where life teems, under a semi- 
tropic sun, and the struggle for existence is keen 
in proportion to the number of the organisms en- 
gaged in it, many plants are provided with defen- 
sive and even offensive weapons, which make them 
formidable to all who venture too near. The cac- 
tus, for instance, is a succulent plant, growing on 
sandy plains, glaring rocks, or shining beaches, 
where such juicy stalks would be peculiarly grate- 
ful to parched throats; and it is dotted all over its 
surface with dense clusters of small but very pen- 
etrating and poisonous prickles. The pineapple, 
another refreshing thing native to thirsty lands, has 
foliage like the cheval-de-frieze of medieval war- 
fare. The fruit ‘‘sits,’’ as its southern cultivators 
. might say, in the midst of a ring of erect sword- 
shaped leaves, every one of which is bordered, for 
its entire length, along both edges, with sharp 
thorns. The pineapple gatherers are obliged to 
work in leathern boots reaching to their hips, and 
