14 



HORTICULTURE 



January 1, 1916 



THE HORTICULTURIST AS KING. 



Address of C. S. Harrison lictori' tin- Mlu- 

 ni'sotii Uortlcultiiriil .Socli^iy, Dii. 7. I'.'l.'i. 



Some of the proiniiies regaidliig our 

 future staggor us with llieir vusliiess. 



"To lilni that overcomcth will I 

 grant tu sit with uie in my throne." 

 Hut how is it down here? "Thou 

 crownest him with riches and honor. 

 Thou hast put all things under his 

 feet." 



Into fields where feet of angels 

 come not, we are chosen as partners 

 of the Heavenly Father to make this 

 a more fruitful and beautiful world. 



In our life work much depends on 

 our attitude regarding our lallini;. We 

 can plod like an ox or like Markam's 

 semi-brute man with the hoe and make 

 that the badge of servitude to toil, or 

 we can make it a wand in a magician's 

 hand to call forth radiant forms of 

 beauty from the somber earth to smile 

 upon us and load the air with fra- 

 grance. We can live down in the base- 

 ment of Horticulture or in the upper 

 story. 



Man is coming to his own. The 

 savage trembled at the lightning 

 stroke which shivered the mighty oak. 

 Little knew he tliat here was a giant 

 at play waiting to be tamed and har- 

 nessed so he could be the most obedi- 

 ent servant— ready at the .Master's 

 beck to leap a continent, dive under 

 an ocean, draw heavy trains, and run 

 acres of machinery. Man reaches out 

 his wand and steam, gas, and oil rise 

 up to do his will. 



If, with the advance of civilization, 

 he wants beautiful things to adorn 

 person or home, he finds subterranean 

 gardens of precious gems almost price- 

 less in value — gems that are immor- 

 telles — flowers that never fade — proph- 

 ets all of the "glory to be revealed." 



You have heard of the marvelous 

 Persian garden of gems — four hundred 

 feet in length and ninety feet wide — 

 made to imitate the most beautiful 

 blooms of earth. It cost millions upon 

 millions. Do you know that it is in 

 your power, with the advance of flori- 

 culture, to create gardens far more 

 resplendent in beauty — great gardens 

 of delight fit for the touch of angel's 

 feet, while the whole is flooded with 

 billows of sweetest perfume. Three 

 years ago that was a patch of barren 

 earth. Now you have pulled down a 

 section of paradise upon it and con- 

 densed there the tints of the morn- 

 ing, the splendors of the evenings, the 

 beauty of the rainbow, and the ef- 

 fulgence which flames in the mantels 

 of the suns. 



I love to think of Nature as a per- 

 son — first born daughter of God. Her 

 head white with the snows of the cen- 

 turies, her cheeks radiant with the 

 flush of recurrent springtime, emblems 

 of eternal youth. She takes you by 

 the hand, leads you into the forests, 

 talks to you of the soul of the tree, 

 tells you how intelligent it is. There 

 is one standing in the oijen. It has 

 performed a feat no civil engineer can 

 emulate. Think of those roots so busi- 

 ly scurrying around in the earth, gath- 

 ering food to send up the cambium 

 high-way to nourish the tree. See the 

 tent cords thrown out to anchor it 

 against the storms. Look at those 

 trees on the outskirts. Among wild 

 animals the strongest are on guard on 

 the outside to protect the herd. So 



SUMMER BEDDING AT HIGHLAND PARK. ROCHESTER, N. Y. 



Formal bedding in park adornment 

 has not been done as extensively in 

 recent years as formerly. It had been 

 overdone and inappropriately done 

 and this abuse was the cause of its 

 discredit. Hut the instance shown in 

 the accompanying picture will cer- 

 tainly not otTend but ajjpeal rather to 

 the judgment- of any person with an 

 eye to the fitness of things. The pub- 



lic parks of Rochester stand second to 

 none in this country as furnishing ex- 

 amples of good taste and judgment In 

 planting. .Most of the iilantiiig is of 

 natural character, presenting many 

 marvelous views and charming vistas. 

 That a bit of neat formal plant adorn- 

 ment is not despised even in Highland 

 Park, our illustration of the scroll- 

 work on the slopes of the reservoir at 

 the entrance of the park goes to prove. 



thesf> sentinel trees guard their wards 

 against the storms. Kool man cuts 

 down the guards and the wards fall 

 before the sweep of the storms. .Moth- 

 er .Xature — dear friendly soul — takes 

 you into her holy of holies and reveals 

 her mysteries. She makes a confident 

 of yoi!. She throws open her doors 

 and shov.s you the wide vistas of a 

 new land you may enter and glorify. 

 Follow her direction and what a friend 

 you have. Cross her. thinking you 

 know more than she does, and she 

 laughs at ?ou. She takes you into the 

 garden and the nursery and discloses 

 her wonders and helps you to work 

 miracles. You plant seeds and bulbs, 

 and beauty rises to greet you. Did 

 you ever think of the royal position of 

 the florist and horticulturist? 



The sacred i)oet speaks of the "labor 

 of the olive." What a flood of light 

 that opens upon us. "All things are 

 yours." Let us go out into the grove 

 you have planted. I once took off my 

 hat to myself. While living in the 

 Republican valley near the 100th me- 

 ridian, I planted some bull pine seed. 

 When the little trees were large 

 enough. I transplanted them in rows 

 six feet apart and started a miniature 

 forest. Twenty-five years after I went 

 to see them. The rows were straight. 

 The trees had fine bodies six inches 

 through. They were miniature col- 

 umns in a temple, holding up a canopy 

 of green. The ground was covered 

 with a thick carpet of needles. It was 

 one of the most pleasing sights I ever 

 saw. Then I thought. "What if I had 

 planted forty acres?" I would have 

 had a Mecca to which horticultural 

 pilgrims would have flocked from hun- 

 dreds of miles. I planted the trees 

 and the faithful servants had kept on 

 working day and night and that beauti- 

 ful grove was the result. Every tree 

 you plant is your servant and how- 

 faithful it is — no shirking — always at 

 it whether you are looking or not. 

 Look at that cherry tree. How the 

 tiny rootlets scurry through the soil — 



loyal children gathering food to send 

 up to their mother. Look at that flood 

 of bloom. Then the fruit grows till a 

 mass of red gleams from the leafy 

 coverts. There is a great difference 

 between a patch of brown earth and 

 your faithful Jonathan. What a mar- 

 V(>1 that little patch of soil, absolutely 

 mill ed by those busy foragers, and 

 the extracts of it glowing in red beau- 

 ty on the tree. Talk of chemists. 

 Those quiet rootlets surpass them all. 

 If you want to be in the realm of 

 nnracles, lay down your hoe a while 

 and sit among your flowers. Your 

 brain devised the plan, your hand 

 planted the seeds and bulbs. "Behold 

 the lilies, how they grow." Now sit 

 tliere and think it out. At your feet 

 are artists no human skill may imitate. 

 Two peonies grow side by side. Golden 

 hiirvest opens with yellow petals fad- 

 ing to purest white. In the center is 

 a miniature Festiva Maxima — blood 

 drops and all. How can those roots 

 send up the golden tints: the snowy 

 wliite and the red. and never have the 

 colors mixed? Close by is a Plutarch, 

 deep brilliant red. The roots inter- 

 mingle. How is it possible to pick out 

 of the dull soil. Nature's eternal drab, 

 that brilliant color for your peony? 

 There are your Irises — the newer sorts 

 absolutely indescriliable. There are a 

 dozen different shades in a single 

 bloom. But those blind artists at work 

 in their subterranean studios never 

 make a mistake. The standards must 

 have just such colors, the falls Just 

 such tints, and where did they get that 

 dazzling radiant reflex such as you 

 see on Perfection Monsignor and 

 Black Knight? But it is always there 

 shimmering in the sunlight. There Is 

 a fairy — a pure snowy queen. How 

 was that sweetness and purity ever 

 extracted from the scentless soil? 

 Every bloom uncorks a vial of perfume 

 which has the odor of the peach blos- 

 som. 



Did you ever sit down in your King- 

 dom and see what a royal throne you 



