ON HARNESSING HEREDITY 
rators have finished the architect’s house, and the 
keys are turned over to the new owner—then, 
and from that moment, the structure begins to 
depreciate until it crumbles in decay. The 
furniture movers dent the stair rails, the chil- 
dren scratch the doors, dust begins to darken and 
destroy the lustre of polished surfaces; and the 
sun and night, and the frosts and the thaws, and 
the rain and the heat, slowly and irresistibly carry 
the structure on its downward grade. 
But when the architect of plants has combined 
old traits into the production of his ideal, he has 
fashioned something which, if his work is well 
done, the suns, and the rains, and the frosts, and 
-the winds will not depreciate; he has produced a 
living thing which, in spite of discouragements, 
and neglect, and abuse, will keep on, and on, and 
on—improving as it goes. 
How few, indeed, are the materials which the 
architect of buildings has at his command, when 
compared with the range of living traits which the 
architect of plants may call into play! 
—Our search, then, is a search for stored 
up heredities—a search for living traits. 
