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peas. People never ask for a particular kind as they do for 
apples. But a trip through our “ melting pot,” as we sometimes 
call our experimental plant-breeding plots, will change forever 
the average person’s concept of peas. They vary in flower from 
white, through salmon pink, to purplish red. The vines may be 
pea giants ten to twelve feet tall or pea dwarfs only one foot 
igh. Four pods may hang in one cluster, or only one or two. 
The leaves may be with or without tendrils; green, bluish-green, 
yellow, or almost white in color. Some varieties have canary 
yellow pods, others have bright warm red, others dark purple, 
and still others various shades of green and bluish-green pods. 
ome varieties have pods with no parchment lining, and these 
can be eaten like string beans. In Chinatown, New York City, 
this kind is sold. 
Almost a hundred years after these non-parchmented or sugar 
peas were introduced into France, Madame de Maintenon, 
queen, in all but name, of one of the most sumptuous courts ever 
known to civilization, writes: “ The subject of Peas continues to 
absorb all others; the anxiety to eat them, the pleasure of having 
eaten them, and the desire to eat them again, are the three great 
matters which have been discussed by our Princes for four days 
past. Some ladies, even after having supped at the Royal table, 
and well supped too, returning to their homes, at the risk of suf- 
fering from indigestion, will again eat Peas before going to bed. 
It is both a fashion and a madness.” 
All themes must close. This quotation from the intimate let- 
ters of a beautiful lady seems a fit ending for a study of asso- 
ciations between two of the most interesting of earth’s life forms 
—peas and people. 
