XXVI 



THE POTATO AT HOME AND IN 

 ENGLAND 



WHEN I was a small boy running about wild on 

 the pampas, amazingly interested in everything 

 and making wonderful discoveries every day, I 

 was attracted by a small flower among the grasses 

 pale and meek-looking, with a yellow centre, 

 petals faintly washed with purple, and a lovely 

 scent. It charmed me with its gentle beauty and 

 new fragrance, and surprised me with its resem- 

 blance, both in flower and leaf, to the potato-plant. 

 On showing a spray to my parents, they told me 

 that it was a potato-flower. This seemed incredible, 

 since the potato was a big plant with large clusters 

 of purplish flowers, almost scentless, and, further- 

 more, it was a cultivated plant. They explained 

 that all cultivated plants were originally wild; 

 that long cultivation had had the effect of changing 

 their appearance and making them larger; that 

 was how we had got our wheat, which came from 

 a poor little grass with a seed scarcely bigger than 

 a pin's head. Even the botanists had had great 

 difficulty in identifying it as the original wheat- 



803 



