222 MINNESOTA STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



But there is one class of people who are entirely without pro- 

 tection. The horticulturist may spend his life in arduous toil to 

 improve the condition of his beloved calling, and by so doing add 

 to the comfort and happiness of his fellow man, and never secure 

 a penny for the blessings his skill has wrought. He may receive 

 honorable mention and be called a good fellow for having discovered 

 a valuable new fruit. Or, he may, by years and years of planting, 

 cultivating, cross-fertilizing, budding or grafting, succeed in bring- 

 ing forth some new creation in plant or tree, in flower or fruit that 

 is a wonderful addition to the economic as well as financial condi- 

 tions of the world, but under the law he is left helpless to protect 

 himself or to reap the harvest that his time and energy have entitled 

 him to, while those who have done nothing to deserve it may step in 

 and gather the reward to which our enthusiastic horticultural friend 

 has alone just claim, without so much as even saying by your leave 

 or thinking to thank him for it. 



The situation reminds me of the time when I was a boy and 

 used to go out hunting woodchucks. We had two dogs, one a 

 large fine hound, the other an active little terrier. Both were keen 

 hunters, but when they found a hole with a woodchuck in it, the 

 hound could only bark and try to dig him out, but the ground was 

 hard and the digging a slow process. The little dog would beg and 

 plead to be allowed to have a hand in the matter, for he was cour- 

 ageous and a good fighter, and he knew he could get the woodchuck 

 if only he could have a chance, but the big dog was selfish and 

 would not let his little comrade come near until at last from sheer 

 exhaustion he had to lie down and regain his breath and strength. 

 This was the little dog's opportunity. Into the hole he would dart, 

 scratching and struggling and squeezing his little body along deep 

 into the hole until the woodchuck was reached, and then such a 

 battle as took place was only to be judged by the barking and squeal- 

 ing that was heard, until, in a grip of death, they would both come 

 scrambling out ; then the big hound would fight off the little hero, 

 grab up the woodchuck and with head high in the air and a sullen 

 growl would say, "you go away; this is my game," and nothing the 

 little dog could say or do would gain for him credit for the part he 

 had so courageously performed. I always thought that the old 

 hound deserved to be chained up to a post and the little hero al- 

 lowed to have his woodchuck and the privilege of shaking it all he 

 wanted to. And that's what ought to be clone for the horticulturist. 

 A chain of law should be put upon the public, and it should be re- 

 quired to keep hands off until he had shaken the fruit of his efforts 

 or discovery enough to fill his basket full of reward. 



