LUTHER BURBANK 



If it rained too much, drainage took up the 

 excess. When the rains did not come, the soil 

 was sprinkled. 



Under cultivation, and kindly care, the discour- 

 agements of its life grew less and less, and the 

 encouragements to thrive grew more and more. 



Soon this violet, as if assured of reproduction, 

 abandoned the blossoms at its base, and threw its 

 energies into making bigger and brighter and 

 more beautiful blossoms at its top. Where it had 

 half-heartedly advertised to the bees of old, it no\v 

 concentrated its efforts to win the approval of the 

 new-found friend whose dooryard brought it 

 opportunity. 



And this is the life story of that kind of violet 

 which we now call the pansy. 



On the one hand, in the woods, we see its wild 

 kin-folk still struggling against unequal odds; on 

 the other we see its own large, beautiful pansy 

 petals, and the increased brilliancy of its hues; 

 each a response to environment. 



Truly, in the pretty face of the pansy, we may 

 read the vivid story of man's importance as a 

 friendly element in the lives of plants. 

 * * * * * 



Where do the flowers get their colors? 

 "From the bees," said Mr. Burbank. "And from 



us." 



[116] 



