LUTHER BURBANK 



that its top extends upward in the form of a single 

 tiny stalk. 



Surrounding this neatly packed nest of gera- 

 nium eggs with its single upright stalk, and 

 hugging it closely all around, we should see ten 

 modified leaves, a quarter of an inch or so in 

 length, ending, each, in a pointed stalk as big 

 around, perhaps, as a bristle out of a hair brush; 

 ten such leaves in two rows — as if shielding the 

 egg chamber and its central stalk from harmful 

 intruders. 



At the tops of the ten surrounding stalks, we 

 should see the crosswise bundles, nicely balanced, 

 of beautiful golden-orange pollen dust, loosely 

 held in half-burst packages. 



And at their base, we should find the syrup 

 factory of the geranium — a group of tiny glands 

 which manufacture a sticky confection that covers 

 the bottom of the flower with its sweetness. 



Shall we take one of the egg-like seeds from its 

 nest and plant it? We might as well plant a 

 toothpick. 



Shall we take a package of the pollen, and 

 put it in the ground? We might as well sow a 

 thimbleful of Hour. 



But let us combine one of those eggs with a 

 grain of that pollen, and three daj^s in the soil will 

 show us that we have produced a living, growing 



[68] 



