108 COTTON 
the darling of Apollo. Wet, cloudy, and rainy 
days, except in so far as they are necessary to supply 
the comparatively small amount of moisture re- 
quired, have no place in its calendar, and are 
unfavorable to vigorous, abundant growth and 
to the yield of seed and lint. 
The blossom itself tells us this. In the morning 
of a bright, clear, warm day, it opens to its full 
extent to drink in the sun, but as soon as the damp 
evening approaches, it closes as if it would keep 
cold and dew wholly without. In every way the 
plant shows its nature and its longing for warmth 
and sunshine. Its green leaves even appear to 
turn to the east in the morning, waiting for the 
sun to rise, and seem, in a measure, to follow it in 
its course until it sets in the west; then they droop— 
as if the day’s work were finished —and await the 
coming of the sun again. 
Climate has much to do with cotton. A native 
of tropical lands, it does its best in temperate cli- 
mates, and seems unable to venture beyond the 
limits of its adopted home. No other staple field 
crop in our country is so circumscribed. Other 
than grass, corn (our leading crop by acreage and 
production) has gone to every part but our western- 
most limits: wheat, oats, rye, though all somewhat 
choice of soil, yet fear neither heat nor cold; but 
cotton, wedded to the Southern sunshine, pines 
away and, Rachel-like, will not be comforted, when 
taken from its Dixie home, 
