98 STATE POMOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 



the wigwam of the Indian, or to find liim sitting under his own vine? 

 They are of the class, " who, having e^'es, see not; and ears, hear 

 not." The voiceless lips of the flowers never speak to his soul, to 

 tell hini the message that their Maker has sent by them to all ; and, 

 alas ! we too often find persons living in civilized countries, yes, 

 and even in our own good State, who are just as deaf and blind to 

 all the beautiful influences of flowers as the untutored Indian. I 

 suppose there always will be such people in the world, (as it is said 

 that it takes all kinds to make a world), but be that as it may, we 

 find that both floriculture and horticulture have taken almost giant 

 strides in the last half century ; yes, even within the last quarter of 

 a century. Well and truly has the poet Whittier said : 



" I look across the lapse of half a eenturj% 

 And call to niind old homesteads, wliere no flower 

 Told that the spring had come, but evil weeds. 

 Nightshade and rough-leaved burdock in the place 

 Of the sweet doovvvuj'- greeting of the rose 

 And honeysuckle, where the house walls seemed 

 Blistering in the sun, without a tree or vine 

 To cast the tremulous shadow ot its leaves 

 Across the curtainless windows from whose panes 

 Fluttered the signal rags of shiftlessness.'' 



Man}' of us here can look back over half that length of time and 

 remember man}' a place, (or homestead rather), in our own towns, 

 which were then bare and unsightly, but which to-day are surrounded 

 with beautiful flowers and luxuriant vines, with thrift}-, well-kept 

 orchards in the background, arbors covered with fruitful grape vines 

 and currants and other small fruits scattered here and there about 

 the grounds, all forming a picture very much the reverse of the 

 poet's above. Homesteads, such as he has too truly delineated, are 

 to-day exceptions, and these exceptions are found mostly in locali- 

 ties where refinement and culture have made but slow progress. 

 And if the persons who are responsible for these exceptional cases 

 could only be led to see what a great drawback to the beauty of the 

 rural landscape the barren and desolate aspect of their farm-houses 

 and out-buildings is, I have no doubt they would exert themselves 

 to produce a different state of things. 



How well I remember the gardens of the village, in Massachusetts, 

 where I lived forty years ago. It was a place of considerable size, 

 about twenty-four miles from Boston. There were but two gardens 

 that one could really call flower gardens. I bad to pass them both 



