96 ANNUAL REPORT. 
what then? Are they not a part of us, and have they not erformed their 
part faithfully and well? Where would this Socicty have been to day with- 
out them? Who, in this broad commonwealth, would have devoted their 
time and means so persistently in experimenting up nm and bringing out 
things that are useful in themselves and beautiful in their nature, fruits and 
flowers, hardy to withstand the vicissitudes of our climate through all the 
extremes of heat and cold? And now, for the sake of a few croakers that 
have taken but little interest in our work, shal: they be sacrificed upon the 
altar of this Society, as they have already been made a burnt offering, as it 
were, upon that of the State? Of all the producers within her borders they 
are the only ones that pay a direct tax upon their growing crops. When 
the assessor goes abroad in the land, he smells the nurseryman afar off, and 
pricks up his long ears. In vain you may tell him that your stock has been 
much reduced, and consists largely of cullings that must go to the brush 
heap; but you cannot convince him in that way. He sees a value to every- 
thing, and it must be made good to the State. Why is it that the nursery- 
man should be taxed, while tramps and tree peddlers go scot free? Are not 
his sins already more than he can bear? But it is not my purpose here to 
extol the beauties of wise legislation. I had rather dwell among the 
flowers,—those little stars of earth that were snatched by angels’ hands 
from the wreck of Eden and transplanted along the exiled paths of Adam, 
to cheer him on his lonely way, to restrain his affections, and eventually to 
bring back his weary wandering feet to his father’s house again. Breathes 
there a soul that does not feel the refining influence of flowers? If so, to 
him paradise is lost! Scarce has winter’s beautiful snow began to dis- 
appear ere its more beautiful namesake rears its pageant head and sheds its 
perfumes abroad— 
Free as the air our lungs inhale, 
Pure as the odors of the gale 
Of spicy islands, from whose seas 
Our nostrils snuff the fragrant breeze. 
_And then in quick succession comes the attendant train,—a bridal party on 
their wedding tour, dressed in all colors save that of black alone; for theirs 
is a life of joy; sorrow is unknown. 
But what means this sudden burst of bloom? All nature seems aglow, 
and earth herselt in rapture clasps her hands for joy. Those are the fruit- 
bearing blossoms. They come not too soon lest frosts should blight their 
prospects, nor yet too late to ripen up their loads of luscious fruits, to bless 
mankind with luxury and health. 
A wise Creator must have planned it all. And yet through all the sum- 
mer months our paths are incessantly strewed with flowers; no sooner does 
one set step aside than another takes its place, not copying the works of its 
predecessor, but forming, still forming and still executing some now design 
in an endless multiplicity of characters and colors. And then when frosts 
appear, and nature’s outdoor pets begin to droop and die, the blue-eyed 
Gentian gives a parting smile, and winter, stern winter cumes and forces 
all within a safe retreat, where ivy-curtained walls and window plants in 
bright profusion bloom, to cheer our hearts and gladden all within. Our 
homes are what we make them, make them what we will. 
