4l8 MINNESOTA STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



be an ornament to the landscape, matching the sky, the green of 

 the earth and the trees. Every farm should be planned as a grace- 

 ful, fitting framework and the buildings as a picture to fit the 

 frame, fitted to the appropriate surroundings. 



The great west, after years of struggle, has conquered the ad- 

 verse forces and is prosperous, and now the horticulturist should 

 preach the evangel of beauty everywhere, both by example and pre- 

 cept. He should branch out and test new things, and hold best that 

 which is good. 



In the office of the skilled architect there hang the plans and 

 specifications of the monster building with its framework of steel. 

 So over every farm in the land there hangs an ideal of what it 

 should be, and the farmer should pull down the plan and work to it. 

 Few men know what they can do or what is in store for them or 

 the possibilities of that little empire of theirs, reaching down to the 

 center of the earth and up to the stars. 



In the air and earth, in the shower and sunbeam, which belong 

 to them, are thousands of bushels of luscious fruit held in solution. 

 Plant vines, bushes and trees, and the bounty of Providence will 

 crystalize upon them. Also in this ideal there are marvelous scenes 

 of loveliness — fair landscapes with their enchantments, flower gar- 

 dens with the witchers' of their beauty and a cheering procession of 

 loveliness. So plant flowers and in the wake of your hoe and spade 

 they will spring up to cheer you — before you a brown and bare 

 patch of earth, behind you an Eden. 



I am no pastor knight with more theories to give you. I work 

 and am happy to be "the man with the hoe." The hoe instead of 

 the implement of degradation is the wand in the hand of the King 

 uncovering the secrets of nature, evoking forms of beauty from the 

 unknown. For nearly thirty-five years in the great west I have 

 been testing and experimenting, paying out thousands of dollars, 

 finding what I could not do. Even our failures are some of the most 

 valuable assets we have, and our successes, which are many, are 

 the hope of the future. Some things will not succeed. Don't fool 

 away your time with rhododendrons, azalias and kalmias, and things 

 of that kind. They are exclusive, aristocratic easterners and will 

 have nothing to do with us. You might as well try to transplant a 

 Boston bred lady out on a great western prairie. I have tried that, 

 too, and it don't work. But while we fail on many choice flowers, 

 there are others extremely well adapted to our soil and climate 

 which will do as well with us as anywhere on earth. 



I love my work and my present parish. For forty-six years I 

 have been a professional man, and my work not without results, 

 my highest expectations realized. But I work now for the most ap- 

 preciative audience I ever had, 30,000 paeonies alone in about 400 

 varieties. Thousands of phloxes, gaillardias, columbines and other 

 perennials rise up to give me royal salutations. They never grumble 

 or find fault. They are a cheerful, smiling company, and while I 

 work among them there seems to thrill through my very being the 

 ache and eagerness of the overshadowing love — anxious to reveal 

 itself through my brain and hands to men. It is as though a voice 



