lish weed of the weediest sort thrives and flourishes abundantly on a remote, uninhabited island of the Antarctic seas. How did it get there? Well, the first observers who found it on the island noticed that it grew in the greatest quantities near a certain spot, which turned out on examination to be the forgotten grave of an English sailor. Here was the solution of that curious mystery in geographical dis tribution. The grave had of course been dug with a civilized spade; and that spade had presumably been brought from England. Clinging to its surface at the time it was used were no doubt some little unnoticed clots of British clay, embedded in whose midst was a single seed, that rubbed itself off, it would seem, against the newly-dug earth. The embryo germinated, and grew to be a plant; and in a very few years, in that unoccupied soil, the whole island was covered with its numerous descendants. Finding a fair field and no favor, which is the very essence of natural selection, it had been fruitful, and multiplied, and replenished the earth to some purpose, as all weeds will do when no human hand interferes to prevent them. The greater part of our existing weeds, as I already remarked, come to us, like all the rest of our civilization, good, bad, or indifferent, from the remote east. In many cases their country of origin is not even now fully known; they are probably as antique as cultivation itself, contemporaries of the bronze-age or stone-age pioneers, and have spread westward with corn and barley till they have now fairly made the tour of the world, and like all other globe-trotters might consider themselves entitled at last to write a book about their travels. Our little shepherd's purse is a good typical example of these cosmopolitan voyagers; there is hardly a quarter of the world where it does not now grow in great profusion; yet it is nowhere found far from human habitations; it loves the roadside, the garden, the fallow, the bare patch in towns where the tall board of the eligible building site "lifts its head and lies' with more brazen impudence than even the London Monument. Even today, nobody knows where this ubiquitous foundling, this gypsy among plants, really comes from. It is a native of nowhere. All that the most authoritative of our botanists can find to tell us about it is that it may be "probably of European or West

Asiatic origin, but now one of the commonest weeds in cultivated and waste places, nearly all over the globe without the tropics. Like the rat and the cockroach, it follows civilization in every ship; it spreads its seeds with every sack of corn; and it accompanies the emigrant, in the very dirt on his boots, to every corner of the colonizable earth.

It doesn't necessarily follow, however, that all weeds are ugly or inconspicuous. Some familiar pests, which seem to have been specially developed to suit the exigencies of cornfield cultivation, are both noticeable and handsome. Our scarlet corn-poppies, our blue corn-cockles, our purple corn-campion, are instances in point; so is the still more brilliant southern cornflag or wild gladiolus that stars, with its tall spikes of crimson blossom, the waving expanse of French and Italian wheat-fields. I think the reason here is that corn is wind-fertilized, so the plants that grow among its tall stems, in order to attract the fertilizing insects sufficiently, have themselves to be tall and very attractive. In other respects, however, it is curious to notice how closely these beautiful weeds have accommodated their habits to the peculiar circumstances of cornfield tillage. The soil is ploughed over once a year; so they are all annuals; roots or bulbs would be crushed or destroyed in the ploughing; they flower with the corn, ripen with the corn, are reaped and thrashed with the corn, and get their seeds sown by the farmer with his seedcorn in spite of his own efforts. One of the most deadly and destructive among them, indeed, the parasitical cow-wheat, which fastens its murderous sucker-like roots to the rootlets of the corn, and saps the life-blood of the standing crop, has gone so far as to produce seeds that exactly imitate a grain of wheat, and can only accurately be distinguished from the honest grains among which they lurk by a close and discriminative botanical scrutiny. This is one of the best instances known of true mimicry in the vegetable world, and it is as successful in the greater part of Europe as such wicked schemes always manage to be.

Still, as a rule, weeds undoubtedly are weedy-looking; they are the degraded types that can drag out a miserable existence somehow in open sunlit spots, with short allowance of either soil or water.

V

660

the forest primæval is cleared, a tation usurps the soil, a vegeta necessarily comes from else America, where the substituti of such very late date, we limits of the two floras, nat sive, with perfect ease Strange as it sounds to sa weeds of cultivation have of all eastern America to the true native woodla fully as the European horses and cows has the soil to the exclusi Indian and his corr common plants the York, Philadelphithe familiar dand Ox-eye daisies of land. In open doctrine, the Bri fields of the g American plan man, has slun modest shade Nay, the nati noted this co

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dern weeds she have the best of it in the Jangerous tion. Basta America, this side the Albeige end, ander a regime of universal civilizaarrots, who legas was a forest-clad region till a

weds broadcast. come centuries since; and when its

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cleared, French and English supplanted the native woodland Bat the Mississippi Valley had er the very beginning a vast basin prairie-land; and on these prairies, innumerable stout of the true weedy sort had such ■ room to grow and compete with one ber as nowhere else in the whole r. save perhaps on the similar South American pampas. Here, then, the strugfor existence among field-weeds would

dest and fiercest; here the most peradaptations of plant life to meadow pasture conditions would be sure to ve themselves; here the weed would arally reach the very highest pitch of preternatural and constitutional weediness. As long, however, as the forest intervened is between the open prairies and the eastern farms, these rude western weeds had no chance of spreading into the sunny crofts ne and gardens of the neat New England farmer. But when once the flowing tide of civilization reached the prairie district, salita change came o'er the spirit of the cone. Mods flower's or the tick-seed's dream. By the

cutting down of the intermediate forest belt, man had turned these adventurous plants into vegetable plants into vegetable Alexanders, who found new worlds, hitherto unsuspected, before them to conquer. They were equal to the occasion. The prairie vegetation set out on its travels eastward, to reach, and soon I believe to cross in its thousands the barrier of the Atlantic.

The railways helped the prairie migrants greatly on their eastward march; indeed, what is the good of railways if it isn't to facilitate communications between And the run of the railplace and place? ways exactly suited the weeds, for almost all the great trunk lines of America lie due east and west, so as to bring the corn and pork of the Mississippi Valley to the great

orts of the Atlantic seaboard. Drought the pests of agriculture .ell. The waste spaces along their orm everywhere beautiful nurseries eeds to multiply in; and the prevailnorth-west winds, which in America ow on an average three days out of four the year round, carried their winged seeds bravely onward toward the unconscious farms of Pennsylvania and Connecticut. Another way, however, in which the prairie plagues spread even more insidiously was by the eastern farmer using western seed, in the innocence of his heart, to sow his fields with, and thus introducing the foe in full force with his own hands into his doomed domain. One of the worst pests of Wisconsin and Minnesota has thus been naturalized in Canada through the use of Western clover-seed. Some twenty years ago, prairie weeds were unknown everywhere along the Atlantic seaboard; now, they dispute possession with the European buttercups, dandelions, or goosefoots, and will soon, in virtue of their sturdier and stringier prairie constitution, habituated to long drought or broiling sunshine, live down those damp-loving and dainty cis-Atlantic weeds.

In time, too, they must reach Europe; and here they will in many cases almost entirely swamp our native vegetation. In fact I think there can be little doubt that, with the increase of intercourse all over the world, a few hardy cosmopolitan weeds must tend in the long run to divide the empire of life, and map out the cultivable plains of the globe between them. Symptoms of this tendency have long been noted, and are growing clearer and clearer every day before our eyes. Weeds are keeping well abreast of the march of intellect, and are marching, too, wherever (like the missionaries) they find a door opened in front of them. In fact, they stand in the very van of progress, and sometimes spread even into uncivilized tracts as fast as the salvationist, the slave-trader, and the dealer in rum, rifles, and patent medicines generally.

Now, every country, however uncivilized, has a few true weeds of its ownlocal plants which manage to live on among the cleared spaces by the native huts, or in the patches of yam, Indian corn, and plantain. The best of these weeds-that is to say, the weediest-may be able to compete in the struggle for life even with

the well-developed and fully-equipped plagues of more cultivated countries. Thus, even before the opening out of the prairie region, a few American plants of the baser sort had already established themselves by hook or by crook in Europe, and especially in the dry and congenial Mediterranean region. I don't count cases like that of the Canadian river-stopper, the plant that clogs with its long waving tresses all our canals and navigable streams, because there the advantage of Canada, with its endless network of sluggish waterways, is immediately obvious; a plant developed under such special conditions must almost certainly live down with ease and grace our poor little English crowfoots and brookweeds. But the Canadian fleabane, a scrubby, dusty, roadside annual, with endless little fluffy fruits as light as air, has, for more than a century, held its own in the greatest abundance as a highway vagabond in almost all temperate and hot climates; while the Virginian milkweed, also favored by its cottony seeds, is now as common in many parts of the Old World as in the barren parts of its native continent. I don't doubt that in time these picked weeds of all the open lowland regions, but more especially those of the prairies, the pampas, the steppes, and the veldt, will overrun the greater part of the habitable globe. They are the fittest for their own particular purpose, and fitness is all that nature cares about. We

shall thus lose a great deal in picturesque variety between country and country, because the main features of the vegetation will be everywhere the same, no matter where we go, as they already are in Europe and Eastern America. Toujours perdrix is bad enough, but toujours luit d'âne— always sow-thistle-is surely something too horrible to contemplate.

Nevertheless, the symptoms of this dead-level cosmopolitanization of the world's flora abound to the discerning eye every where around us. At least three North American weeds have already made good their hold in England, and one of them, the latest comer, a harmless little Claytonia from the north-western States, is spreading visibly every year under my own eyes in my own part of Surrey. Thirty years ago Mr. Brewer, of Reigate, noted with interest in his garden at that town the appearance of a small exotic Veronica; the "interesting" little plant

Most of them have fly-away feathery seeds, like thistles, dandelion, groundsel, and coltsfoot all of them have advanced means of dispersion of one sort or another, which ensure their going every where that wind or water, beast or bird, or human hands can possibly carry them. Some, like burrs and tickseed, stick into the woolly fleeces of sheep or goats, and get rubbed off in time against trees or hedgerows others, like the most dangerous Australian pest, are eaten by parrots, who distribute the undigested seeds broadcast. A great many have stings, like the nettle, or are prickly, like thistles, or at least are rough and unpleasantly hairy, like comfrey, hemp-nettle, borage, and bugloss. The weediest families are almost all disagreeably hirsute, with a tendency to run off into spines and thorns or other aggressive weapons on the slightest provocation. Their flowers are usually poor and inconspicuous, because weedy spots are not the favorite feeding grounds of bees and butterflies, to whose æsthetic intervention we owe the greater number of our most beau tiful blossoms indeed, a vast majority of weeds show an inclination to go back to the low habit of self-fertilization (long cast aside by the higher plants), which always involves the production of very grubby and wretched little flowers. As a whole, in short, the weedy spirit in plants resembles the slummy or urban spirit in humanity; the same causes that produce the one produce the other, and the results in either case tend to assimilate in a striking man

ner.

Till very recently, the cosmopolitan weed was for the most part one of Mediterranean or West Asiatic origin. It could at least claim to be a foster-brother and contemporary of nascent civilization, a countryman of the Pharaohs, the Sennacheribs, or the Achaemenids. Of late years, however, new weeds from parts unknown, without pedigree or historical claims, are beginning to push their way to the front, and to oust these comparatively noble descendants of Egyptian and Mesopotamian ancestors. The Great West is turning the tables upon us at last, and sending us a fresh crop of prairie weeds of its own devising, as it now threatens us also with the caucus, the convention, and the Colorado beetle. A return-wave of einigration from west to east is actually in progress; and in weeds, this return-wave

promises in the end to assume something like gigantic proportions. Many years ago, the great Boston botanist, Asa Gray, prophesied its advent, and his prophecy has ever since gone on fulfilling itself at the usual rapid rate of all American phenomena, social or natural.

It is easy enough to see why the western weeds should have the best of it in the end, under a régime of universal civilization. Eastern America, this side the Alleghanies, was a forest-clad region till a couple of centuries since; and when its forests were cleared, French and English vegetation supplanted the native woodland flora. But the Mississippi Valley had been from the very beginning a vast basin of treeless prairie-land; and on these sun sinitten prairies, innumerable stout plants of the true weedy sort had such elbow room to grow and compete with one another as nowhere else in the whole world, save perhaps on the similar South American pampas. Here, then, the struggle for existence among field-weeds would be widest and fiercest; here the most perfect adaptations of plant life to meadow or pasture conditions would be sure to evolve themselves; here the weed would naturally reach the very highest pitch of preternatural and constitutional weediness. As long, however, as the forest intervened between the open prairies and the eastern farms, these rude western weeds had no chance of spreading into the sunny crofts and gardens of the neat New England farmer. But when once the flowing tide of civilization reached the prairie district, a change came o'er the spirit of the cone. flower's or the tick-seed's dream. By the cutting down of the intermediate forest belt, man had turned these adventurous plants into vegetable Alexanders, who found new worlds, hitherto unsuspected, before them to conquer. They were equal to the occasion. The prairie vegetation. set out on its travels eastward, to reach, and soon I believe to cross in its thousands the barrier of the Atlantic.

The railways helped the prairie migrants greatly on their eastward march; indeed, what is the good of railways if it isn't to facilitate communications between place and place? And the run of the railways exactly suited the weeds, for almost all the great trunk lines of America lie due east and west, so as to bring the corn and pork of the Mississippi Valley to the great

shipping ports of the Atlantic seaboard. But they brought the pests of agriculture just as well. The waste spaces along their sides form everywhere beautiful nurseries for weeds to multiply in; and the prevailing north-west winds, which in America blow on an average three days out of four the year round, carried their winged seeds bravely onward toward the unconscious farms of Pennsylvania and Connecticut. Another way, however, in which the prairie plagues spread even more insidiously was by the eastern farmer using western seed, in the innocence of his heart, to sow his fields with, and thus introducing the foe in full force with his own hands into his doomed domain. One of the worst pests of Wisconsin and Minnesota has thus been naturalized in Canada through the use of Western clover-seed. Some twenty years ago, prairie weeds were unknown everywhere along the Atlantic seaboard; now, they dispute possession with the European buttercups, dandelions, or goosefoots, and will soon, in virtue of their sturdier and stringier prairie constitution, habituated to long drought or broiling sunshine, live down those damp-loving and dainty cis-Atlantic weeds.

In time, too, they must reach Europe; and here they will in many cases almost entirely swamp our native vegetation. In fact I think there can be little doubt that, with the increase of intercourse all over the world, a few hardy cosmopolitan weeds must tend in the long run to divide the empire of life, and map out the cultivable plains of the globe between them. Symptoms of this tendency have long been noted, and are growing clearer and clearer every day before our eyes. Weeds are keeping well abreast of the march of intellect, and are marching, too, wherever (like the missionaries) they find a door opened in front of them. In fact, they stand in the very van of progress, and sometimes spread even into uncivilized tracts as fast as the salvationist, the slave-trader, and the dealer in rum, rifles, and patent medicines generally.

Now, every country, however uncivilized, has a few true weeds of its ownlocal plants which manage to live on among the cleared spaces by the native huts, or in the patches of yam, Indian corn, and plantain. The best of these weeds-that is to say, the weediest-may be able to compete in the struggle for life even with

the well-developed and fully-equipped plagues of more cultivated countries. Thus, even before the opening out of the prairie region, a few American plants of the baser sort had already established themselves by hook or by crook in Europe, and especially in the dry and congenial Mediterranean region. I don't count cases like that of the Canadian river-stopper, the plant that clogs with its long waving tresses all our canals and navigable streams, because there the advantage of Canada, with its endless network of sluggish waterways, is immediately obvious; a plant developed under such special conditions must almost certainly live down with ease and grace our poor little English crowfoots and brookweeds. But the Canadian fleabane, a scrubby, dusty, roadside annual, with endless little fluffy fruits as light as air, has, for more than a century, held its own in the greatest abundance as a highway vagabond in almost all temperate and hot climates; while the Virginian milkweed, also favored by its cottony seeds, is now as common in many parts of the Old World as in the barren parts of its native continent. I don't doubt that in time these picked weeds of all the open lowland regions, but more especially those of the prairies, the pampas, the steppes, and the veldt, will overrun the greater part of the habitable globe. They are the fittest for their own particular purpose, and fitness is all that nature cares about. We shall thus lose a great deal in picturesque variety between country and country, because the main features of the vegetation will be everywhere the same, no matter where we go, as they already are in Europe and Eastern America. Toujours perdrix is bad enough, but toujours lait d'âne— always sow-thistle-is surely something too horrible to contemplate.

Nevertheless, the symptoms of this dead-level cosmopolitanization of the world's flora abound to the discerning eye every where around us. At least three North American weeds have already made good their hold in England, and one of them, the latest comer, a harmless little Claytonia from the north-western States, is spreading visibly every year under my own eyes in my own part of Surrey. Thirty years ago Mr. Brewer, of Reigate, noted with interest in his garden at that town the appearance of a small exotic Veronica; the "interesting" little plant