222 NEBRASKA STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



stamens must shed their pollen to fertilize the blossoms, and when the 

 blooms fall the tiny fruit appears; then how the roots must work. 

 But they do not falter. Every day the cherries grow larger and 

 larger. But where do they find that rich tissue with which each one 

 is wrapped until the whole tree is one vast bouquet of beauty. A 

 stupendous flower touched and painted by unseen fingers. I have 

 known a man to gather seven bushels of those beautiful cherries from 

 a single tree. How much hard work was done to reach splendid results. 



There is the strawberry. Did you ever see such a diligent little 

 toiler. Just watch that plant; consider the berries, how they grow; 

 invisible machinery is at work to turn out "God's best." The fruit 

 might be of the color of cobble stones — no, it must not only be luscious, 

 but lovely in color and form. It must be complete, and there is a ball of 

 delicate juices wrapped in tissue of glowing red which makes the 

 mouth water to think of it, and just think how that little plant has 

 to work to turn out a dozen or two of those wonderful berries fit for 

 a king's table. 



There is a grand apple tree, not as imposing in appearance as the 

 columnar Lombardy or the giant cottonwood. But it is a faithful, 

 hard working tree. It is a Jonathan. First the immense task of pro- 

 ducing that glorious mantle when the tree is one mass of bloom, and 

 you might say as you look on that great mass of fragrance and beauty 

 where the happj^ bees are gathering their treasures, "This is enough. 

 Don't try to do any more," but the reply is, "we have only just be- 

 gun, wait until fall." In the meantime who can describe the work of 

 those faithful toilers, the roots and the leaves. Between the bark and 

 the wood there is a highway of commerce. You put your hand on it, 

 and you do not feel the rush of enterprise, the coming and the going, 

 and when the golden autumn comes on that noble tree there are 

 thirty bushels of the choicest fruit— perfect in form as if turned out 

 by the most intricate machinery, with a coloring such as only artist 

 nature can paint. Such a luscious pulp wrapped up in such dainty 

 covering. You may take off your hat to that tree, as one of the most 

 industrious of all the armies that toil for man. So look all over the 

 farm and it is work! work! everywhere. 



Here is the timber grove. How cool and delightful when the 

 breeze comes through on a summer day. You saj'^ it is all quiet here, 

 yes, quiet, but busy. Do you know what the record of those yearly 

 rings mean? They are the records of a summer's work. Two feet 

 added to the height, an inch added to the diameter; figure up the ag- 

 gregate, and how many loads you can take froni the forest, and then 

 you only take away the equivalent of the growth. Those trees are in 

 haste to grow, that their labors may feed the stove and bring the 

 warmth of summer into the chill of winter. They have been condens- 

 ing the sunbeams for you, and storing them up, wrapping them in 

 that rough bark so you can have posts for your farm, poles for your 



