The perfume of the Canada thistle is equal to 

 that of most wild flowers and superior to many. 

 It is wholly refined, with no taint of coarseness. 

 With what vulgar effrontery a cheap perfume 

 assails the nose. But here is a despised thistle 

 which brings itself to notice by an influence not 

 plebeian but patrician. You might pass this thistle 

 day in and day out and never susped: it had any 

 such virtue, till you had gone out of your way to 

 cultivate a closer acquaintance. Call it a weed if 

 you will, it has an individuality that separates it 

 from other common plants, and by reason of which 

 it commands attention. 



Floating in nebulous masses about the black- 

 berry thicket, the delicately conspicuous hue of 

 the fireweed catches the eye. If you will but 

 watch the slender pods you may now and again 

 see one suddenly open and its four walls silently 

 withdraw, while there emerges from the interior a 

 phantom shape, the filmy mass of pappus-down 

 with rows of golden seeds attached. This white 

 cloud of silk gradually takes shape, as the mist 

 might rise from a mountain lake, lingers a mo- 

 ment, and then sails away on a passing breeze — 

 ethereal still as the mist — growing less and less, 



75 



