380 



HOETICULTURE 



May 8, 1920 



George Watson^s 

 Corner 



"Ton In y«ar Mxutll corner and me 

 in Bilne." 



If old Laghupatanaka that light 

 flier commonly known as the crow 

 should still be flying over the banks 

 of the JanUavee which we now call 

 the Ganges he will no doubt be sur- 

 prised to see some strange things ap- 

 pearing these days originating from 

 the far off Occident. For instance we 

 learn from a news item that the 

 Princes of Calcutta, who follow the 

 noble art of gardening under the 

 benign influence of Saraswatee the 

 goddess of the fine arts had a flower 

 show in that ancient Oriental city 

 February 20 and 21 last. Among the 

 flowers exhibited there was a wide 

 Tariety covering "all classes" and 

 special mention is given to the beau- 

 tiful displays of petunias, larkspurs, 

 and antirrhinuns. Among the vege- 

 tables exhibited were very fine speci- 

 mens of Sutton's Marrowfat peas 

 which we are informed grow well even 

 In the plains of Hindustan and were 

 of superior size and quality. Kohl 

 Rabi, turnips, tomatoes, cauliflowers, 

 carrots, beets and beans were there, 

 and as for cabbages they had Pride of 

 India and Eclipse Drumhead that 

 called for loud acclaim — one specimen 

 of the latter being fourteen inches 

 across the head and twenty-two pounds 

 in weight. This show we understand 

 was held in celebration of the cen- 

 tenary of the Calcutta Agricultural 

 and Horticultural Society. It will 

 rather surprise some folks in Boston 

 and Philadelphia that there was a hor- 

 ticultural society in the effete East a 

 hundred years ago; but it is probably 

 to be credited to the early British 

 settlers and we have to take our hats 

 off to them. Do we hear old Laghupa- 

 tanaka ask "Is civilization a failure. 

 or is the Caucasian played out?" 

 Perish the thought. 



The dream of the ardent enthusiasts 

 in the flower world is raising some- 

 thing better than anybody else does. 

 How we all glorj' in that dream until 

 we run up against the efliciency ex- 

 perts. They douse you at once with 

 facts and figures and tables showing 

 costs and costs and costs and nothing 

 to show for it. Of course they are 

 tioth right and both wrong but neither 

 of them can see it. Only the wise and 

 ancient Laghupatanaka, the crow. 

 can look down on the everlasting 

 struggle between the dreamer and the 



digger and wink his solemn eye with 

 equal credit to both which thought 

 may console John Watson of the 

 Nurserymen's Association who told 

 the boys in Boston: 



"If we say that price must be based 

 on cost then we put out prodixts on 

 the same plane with bricks and mor- 

 tar and shingles. Competition in cost 

 and quantity-production leads inevita- 

 bly to price competition and the sure 

 result of that is deterioration in 

 quality. I prefer to think of the bet- 

 ter competition that is wholesome and 

 inspiring, the effort to produce some- 

 thing better than anybody else can 

 produce. If we reject the idea of mer- 

 chandising at cost plus a profit on 

 each article produced can we not 

 claim something of the status of the 

 artist. And may we not consider the 

 matter of service an element in price 

 making." 



I never met John Watson but from 

 the foregoing I can see that he has a 

 soul and that he realizes that digging 

 tor dollars is not the alpha and omega 

 of our short sojurn here in this jolly 

 old world. Which makes me wonder 

 why he quotes as a sage that Indiana 

 golden-rod George Ade thusly: 



"It doesn't signify how long you 

 stick around; its what you put across 

 that counts." 



That's the slogan of the safe-break- 

 er, the sheep-stealer, chicken-thief, the 

 cut throat, the liar, the breaker of the 

 whole bunch of the ten command- 

 ments handed down to Moses by the 

 Almighty. Its the slogan of the devil 

 and from all accounts that lad finds 

 the atmosphere of Indiana a congenial 

 medium if we may judge from many 

 things that have emanated from there. 

 Did the Veitch's put anything across 



when they sent E. H. Wilson into the 

 wilds of Asia? The Veitch's are out of 

 business for years and yet the world 

 is just beginning to enthuse on Rosa 

 hugonis and lots of other things that 

 these poor old "stick arounds" have 

 given us with nothing to show from 

 our side of the ledger. 



Put across your grandmother! I 

 don't care what you put across. Its 

 what you try to do that's fine and 

 beautiful and uplifting that counts! 

 If you're struggling in the right di- 

 rection no matter how often you 

 stumble, no matter if you never reach 

 your ideals, you have done what you 

 could with a glorious goal for your 

 ideal, if you keep on "sticking around" 

 with your eyes straight heavenward 

 instead of slobbering around in the 

 mud like a hippopotamus. That's the 

 big thing. But of course don't forget 

 "to keep your powder dry." When 

 the wise army general said that, I am 

 sure old Laghupatanaka, the crow, 

 must have given him a wig wag to 

 temper his mad rush on to victory or 

 death. And also to watch out for the 

 "stupidity" of the Iris. 



We have to thank Brother Sturte- 

 vant for the idea that there is such a 

 thing as "stupidity" in a plant. If that 

 be true about an iris, why can't it 

 be true about a rose? Listen to this 

 from Alexander B. Scott in the Rose 

 Annual; 



"I reached my ideal last year in a 

 crimson-scarlet. I looked at that new 

 rose of mine last year and considered 

 it my ideal of a perfect scarlet-crim- 

 son rose. I propagated four plants 

 from it and now this year — the blamed 

 thing won't grow." 



The italics are ours. And might we 

 suggest a-la-Sturtevant that the reason 



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