There are but few of our flowering plants that grow so widespread over the world. It occurs in North America from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast, in Europe, in Asia, and in the Arctic regions. This extensive range may in part be accounted for by the fact that our plant belongs to the large and aggressive family of the _Compositæ_, and is thus related to such invaders as daisies, burdocks, and thistles. Still, the dandelion has more to recommend it than mere family connection; for, despite its lowly aspect, it is no poor relation, but, as we shall hope to show in the present article, it has many virtues of its own which entitle it to respect. Prominent among these is its adaptability to the different conditions under which it grows. It seems to make the best of everything. If by chance a seed falls upon poor, thin soil, the young plant sends forth, as rapidly as possible, a rosette of leaves pressed close to the earth. And thus, on the principle that "possession is nine points of the law," it secures for its roots the use of a certain amount of territory quite safe from the encroachments of other plants. In rich ground the case is quite different, for here there is so much nutriment in a small quantity of earth, that the struggle for soil is not such a life and death matter as in the less favored localities. Consequently we find a large number of plants crowded together as close as they can stand; and it is obvious that if, under these circumstances, the dandelion should develop a flat rosette of leaves, the grass and other plants growing around would soon overshadow it, and it would have small chance for life. Our plant, therefore, extends its leaves upward, and does its best to elongate them so as to keep pace with the growth of its rivals. But as these are for the most part grasses and plants which grow by elongation of the stem, the race for sunshine is rather in favor of these other plants, for the reason that a given amount of material put into a stem makes a stiffer organ than when put into a leaf. Still, even with these odds against it, the dandelion seems well able to hold its own, for it probably derives more or less advantage from the recurved lobes, or teeth, which give the plant its name. These are admirably fitted to act in much the same manner as a ratchet; and when the neighboring grasses are blown against the dandelion, a blade may slide along the margin of the leaf toward the base; but, as it springs back from its own elasticity, it cannot slide in the opposite direction, for a tooth will catch it, and thus force it to help support the leaf, and hold it up to the sunshine. We need not stop to consider how the dandelion behaves in soil which is neither very rich nor very poor, for enough has been said to show that it has not much to fear from any rivals it may meet under ordinary circumstances.