98 STATE POMOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



A'ines, flowers and small truits should not be considered luxu- 

 ries but necessary adjuncts to the farm home and if the women 

 on the farms could realize what they might accomplish with a 

 little labor the city would be far less attractive for the voung 

 people who every year so eagerly flock to our great centers of 

 industry in search of employment — and enjoyment. 



Country life is often called " isolated " and " dreary ; " no 

 doubt it was in the past to a great extent but the rural mail 

 carrier with his daily round and the many " farmers' " telephone 

 lines have changed all this and the remote dweller in the country 

 is now in touch with the whole world. 



Some of the most famous prima donnas are more than ama- 

 teur gardeners. Calve retires in summer to her country home 

 among the mountains and donning the peasant costume, deftly 

 wields hoe and spade, often sending baskets of fruit and vege- 

 tables of her own raising to her friends in Paris. She says she 

 owes her voice and superb health to wooden shoes and potatoes. 



An English countess has at great expense opened a " school 

 of horticulture " for young women where they are given 

 scientific training, also Fraulein Bertha Krupp, the owner of the 

 largest gun works in the world, has recently become interested 

 in gardening and will start a school at Essen where girls may 

 learn the trade. Such examples ought to be a great inspiration 

 to the women of today as they show the high esteem which is 

 placed upon horticulture as an employment for women. 



Mrs. Hemans in her delightful poem " The Spells of Home " 

 paints an exquisite picture of rural life : 



"By the soft green light in the moody glade. 



On the banks of moss where thy childhood play'd, 



By the household tree through which thine eye 



First looked in love to the summer sky. 

 "By the dewy gleam, by the very breath 



Of the primrose tufts in the grass beneath, 



Upon thy heart there is laid a spell, 



Holy and precious — oh, guard it well. 

 "By the sleepy ripple of the stream, 



Which hath lull'd thee into many a dream, 



By the shiver of the ivy leaves 



To the wind of morn at thy casement eaves, 



By the bees' deep murmur in the limes, 



By the music of the Sabbath chimes, 



By every sound of thy native shade. 



Stronger and clearer the spell is made. 



