Apart from its rich glowing colour, its eagerness to 
greet the spring, and its contented gladdening of 
latest autumn, the Dandelion can be loved for the 
enemies it has made* It is the enemy of the all- 
destroying grass that obtrudes in every suburban 
wood, relentlessly killing off the delicate wild 
flowers and transforming the varying labyrinth 
into monotonous sod. No one can watch the grass 
year after year slowly killing off the spring beauty, 
the Blood-root, the Bellwort, and other varied 
delicacies of the new season, without feeling a 
vindictive pleasure when the Dandelion comes along 
and elbows a conspicuous place for itself. Grass is 
to many an object of solicitude bordering on venera- 
tion. To a still wider circle it is a thing to keep off, 
and few regard it with complete indifference. To 
walk on a white man's grass is as great an affront as 
to cast your shadow on a Hindoo's food. Children 
are enjoined from playing upon it, and its proper 
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