People Who Have Made the World More Beautiful 



LUTHER BURBANK AND THE EIGHT-HUNDRED-DOLLAR VERBENA 

 By May Ransom 



[The following is the first of a series of pen pictures of men and women, who, by voice 

 and pen, have helped to beautify life and its surroundings. In such a series the "Flower 

 Wizard" of California rightfully takes a prominent place.] 



IT is certain!}^ true that a prophet is 

 often without honor in his ovni coun- 

 try. I had this truth brought home 

 to my mind most forcibly some time ago 

 when a San Francisco friend came to ^'see'^ 

 the famous horticulturist. We were aware 

 that his home was somewhere in our midst, 

 but did not realize that the little vine- 



LUTHER BURBANK AS HE LOOKS TO-DAY 



clad cottage on the outskirts of Santa Rosa 

 had been the Mecca of scores of visitors 

 from across the land and across the sea. 



We were all familiar since the days of 

 childhood with the expression, "Fine Bur- 

 bank potatoes !" That was the rather un- 

 poetical extent of our knowledge concern- 

 ing him; yet his fame, like the Burbank 

 seedling, has extended to all quarters of 

 the globe, and the very catalogue he issues 

 to florists is used as a text-book in the 

 colleges of Germany, Eussia and other 

 European countries. 



As to having met him in the daily paths 

 of life, his face was almost unknown in 

 our little commonwealth; yet government 

 officials and college dignitaries with in- 



itials of profound import to their names, 

 humbly seek the boon of his presence. Mr. 

 Bur]3anlrs personality is, by his own wish," 

 a sealed book to the world at large. The 

 great work of creating and perfecting new 

 forms of plant life for the sustenance and 

 delectation of mankind necessarily occu- 

 pies him with thought and labors in which 

 none other may share. 



"Ordinary visitors'^ were barred. The 

 rules were stringent. But the friendship 

 of a lifelong growth was not to be denied, 

 and so we started. There was nothing 

 particularly novel or charming in the little 

 white cottage with its tangle of frost-kissed 

 vines, nothing extraordinary about the 

 clumps of red geraniums bordering the 

 fences, but there certainly was something 

 unusual about a peculiar sixteen-foot hose 

 which whirled its mighty arms in midair 

 as though to discourage the unwelcome in- 

 truder. Had it been placed there pur- 

 posely? "Fools rush in where wise men 

 fear to tread," was the thought uppermost 

 in my mind as I ran the gauntlet, while 

 my friend called out in a demi-semi 

 quaver, that "perhaps she had better re- 

 main with the team." I sternly reminded 

 her that she "had traveled all of fifty miles 

 for this" — "in union there is strength" — 

 "the die was cast," etc. We were on our 

 good behavior — on pins and needles, too, 

 so to speak — but it was an acrobatic feat 

 to dodge that hose, keep off the lawn and 

 off the dripping walk. 



We were met at the door by Mr. Bur- 

 bank himself. With a peculiarly boyish 

 smile (I saw nothing else) we were ush- 

 ered into the office where he had been at 

 work by an open window, knee deep, on 

 an inhuman mass of correspondence. Dis- 

 armed at once, my friend chatted freely. 



