74 
DON'T PLUCK IT 
generation have settled into long mounds of moss and 
lichens* There the floral treasures are to be found, 
and there they should be left to live out their lives, 
emblematic of the joy that lingers where all seems 
shadowy and dark. 
There are flowers that can fight their way among 
the grasses of the hills and fields, and give a happy 
and defiant invitation to all who seek them. The ox- 
eye Daisies of summer may be gathered in armfuls. 
The Cone Flower, too, seems to thrive in spite of its 
rich attractiveness. The Asters of advancing summer 
and the Golden-rods of autumn are also of the 
composites that thrive in spite of inconsiderate 
collecting. Jo Pie Weed, tall and vigorous, displays 
its purple crown of flowers and four-leaved whirls 
of green where marsh and land vegetation meet. 
It perpetuates the name and fame of an Indian 
medicine man. But there are so many flowers that 
suffer and are threatened with local extermination 
that their friends are warranted in appealing to the 
public to spare them. The beautiful blue of the 
Fringed Gentian is seen less frequently than hereto- 
fore. It is an annual and unless its flowers are allowed 
to fill their mission and produce seed it cannot 
survive. The deeper ultramarine and lighter shades 
of the Lobelia are also growing more scarce by 
the choked and sluggish streams, and the Cardinal 
Lobelia, the brightest of all the sisterhood of flowers, 
