LUTHER BURBANK 



den, and no one would have taken the slightest 

 interest in the tiny fruit in any event. So day 

 after day I returned and took up the search again. 

 I covered the ground systematically in every direc- 

 tion, moving each vine, and anxiously scrutinizing 

 the soil about its roots, and lifting every chance 

 leaf under which the little seed receptacle might 

 have lodged. 



And at last this patient search was rewarded. 

 Several feet away from the original vine, snugly 

 lodged at the base of another vine, the missing 

 seedball was found. 



Whether it had been removed by some bird 

 that had plucked at it inquiringly, thinking that it 

 might furnish food; or whether some stray dog 

 running through the potato patch had quite by 

 accident broken it off and projected it to where it 

 was found, I never knew. It sufficed that I had 

 the precious seeds again in my possession, and I 

 took good pains to see that they were safely stored 

 for the winter. 



On removing the seeds from the capsule, it was 

 found that there were twenty-three of them. The 

 coming of spring was eagerly awaited to reveal 

 what hereditary possibilities were stored in these 

 seedballs. 



Twenty-Three New Varieties 



When spring came, I planted the seeds out of 



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