Mabch 28, 1919] 



SCIENCE 



295 



ample, one holds a position, not a job ; he is 

 employed by the month or year, not by the 

 day; he earns a salary, not wages. But 

 these are all superficial differences. There 

 are other distinctions, significant, funda- 

 mental. May I speak briefly of two of 

 them? 



First, The Nature of the Preparation Re- 

 quired. — One may learn how to raise veget- 

 ables and flowers with success by begin- 

 ning as gardener's helper, imitating the ex- 

 perienced practitioner, substituting in his 

 absence, and thus gradually acquiring suffi- 

 cient skill to proceed independentlj^, and, in 

 turn, pass on his information and skill to 

 other apprentices. But, with rare excep- 

 tions, what the journeyman has learned, is 

 all that he can pass on ; like father, like son. 

 But where is the opportunity for progress 

 here ? The history of agriculture in China, 

 or Palestine, or with our own aborigines, 

 gives the clear answer. There is little or no 

 opportunity for progress. Cloth would be 

 spun on hand looms to-day had no other 

 factor been introduced into spinning than 

 the instruction of daughters by mothers. 

 This kind of instruction does not make for 

 progress; it can never convert a trade into 

 a profession. The spinning jenny was not 

 invented by a spinner, nor the wireless tele- 

 graph by a telegraph operator, nor the sci- 

 ence of agronomy by practical farmers. 



Progress depends upon a fullness of 

 preparation exceeding the limits of antici- 

 pated requirement in practise. This is why 

 I have never liked the phrase, "teaehei's 

 training class." Horses may be trained, 

 and a well-trained horse may be depended 

 on to do accurately and promptly the tricks 

 that are taught him. But place him in a 

 new situation, or confront him with a new 

 problem, or an old one somewhat altered — 

 and you may then learn clearly and easily 

 the difference between training and educa- 

 tion. 



In order to become a horticulturist, as 

 distinguished from a practical gardener, 

 one's knowledge must exceed the antici- 

 pated demands upon it in practise. He 

 must not only know how and when to culti- 

 vate, but why; not only the names of his 

 plants, but the nature of plants — why 

 leaves are green, what flowers are for, how 

 seeds are formed, how roots absorb mois- 

 ture, how plants feed, the nature of plant 

 diseases (as well as when and how to spray) , 

 the nature and kinds of variation, the basis 

 of selection, why some varieties tend to run 

 out, why corn ' ' mixes in the hill. ' ' This is 

 the knowledge that gives power, this is the 

 basis of progress. I do not mean that such 

 fullness of knowledge is always necessary in 

 order to raise good crops — to be a good 

 gardener ; but it is necesary in order to be 

 able still to raise good crops in spite of un- 

 foreseen obstacles — the new insect or fungus 

 pest, an excessive drought, a season of un- 

 usual weather in general ; it is necessary in 

 order to raise increasingly better crops, in 

 order to introduce improvements in prac- 

 tise, in order to become a horticulturist. 



Horticulture is an art, and like all arts, 

 it is based upon certain sciences; a knowl- 

 edge of these fundamental sciences is neces- 

 sary — soil technology, economic entomology, 

 the elements of botany, with special empha- 

 sis on plant phj-siology ; something of plant 

 pathology, the principles of plant breeding, 

 ecology or the relation of plants to their 

 environment; something of physics and 

 chemistry, plant geography, and the his- 

 tory of cultivated plants. Moreover one 

 should know the history of his profession, 

 be acquainted with the classic publications, 

 the names and lives of the founders and 

 leading horticulturists. One can never 

 keep abreast of the times (let alone becom- 

 ing a leader) who does not keep in touch 

 with the new and modern books, and the 

 current periodical literature of the subject. 



