HI
ILLINOI

S

UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

PRODUCTION NOTE
University of Illinois at
Urbana-Champaign Library
Brittle Books Project, 2012.

COPYRIGHT NOTIFICATION
In Public Domain.
Published prior to 1923.

This digital copy was made from the printed version held
by the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
It was made in compliance with copyright law.
Prepared for the Brittle Books Project, Main Library,
University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
by
Northern Micrographics
Brookhaven Bindery
La Crosse, Wisconsin
2012

4
'All

Alf

Z'

,,
'. ,I I 1, -,,,-,I d
-

,

,

-:,

, , j-

I-

'
,
- , -, , : : , -1 -I , -- " I - -., . ,,,, ' "'Q,;:.;- 4 -,711. I-" - -. ,:, ----,, ----'V ,
_x
,
" Ill-'. ,-- ".Yktl,
I I
,'0,
I
-, , iz" I , , 11 , , ,
'
,
,,,,,,, , , -, , ", , , li,- - , -_ ,- 11 . I-, , I'I,- , , , :-_; - " '' - ll I I (- , , , , I " ,' j, , I,, , ,- , , , , I
.,
1
. ,--, I 11"I , ,l, %,"'t ",
, , ,,, -, ,, , v ,
I ,I I . , , ,
', ;- ,"I',-' "', -.,,- ,, - I ,, -:"t,',,-,'.- - ,,I ,-I,,
,:
, ',-

,,,,

... ', ,,
,--,
-,-Il "
-,

,

;l

-

L,
,

': '. , ,-,,
,,,-i, ",-:o "

,, ,---, _,,,
"- ,, , , I

-

"

' ': ,-'
--

"

, ,
-V
,

- , ,t , ,

, - ,,",," ,'--,,, ,
"-t',
",
,

,,_, ,. -,::,, L",' "':, ,,,'-," I,"'_-".,
L
,
-_ " " ' ,,,, ,-,-,-,
'
,"
-

, -,'-, ,,,-,
,,,
11: ; , - ' ,

,

r

,-, - ,

I

I
_I L
-,

,

-

, ,L , i
I

'.
,

I

I

'L

, :""

'
I-,--, 77 1.-I -,"' , ,,'I
- --1I I ,I I . I
, -' 0 -. - , ,T .,, , 11 I L .,.,
I
, -- ,
,

I'llI'll ',
, I'll , I
-I , "
, ". -4
.
I

,
I , I': - I r,,--'-"
1
I-, - 1, , , , :,-111 -- ,

-

_

'

I

-I

...-.............. ",-1",
I , .
,
"
I
,
I 1,4 "
',

I

,4 , , ** Pt-;

- 1, I
,

11

v
, :
- ' "
- - I -- -- ,;,-; , -, -,r
N, , , ; "",
6 - , ,,',I, , -l"y '-,"',
I
,,
, I
, -, "",N 7,
.
.:
k, ,,, ,, "q' , ""', ' ,I"
L " - , ,,- , '
v,
, t,L""',, ,' , ,,, -, ,
,,
,
,-' ," ,
,
I - , - - ,,- ' ,i"",
. -1I ' "--," , " - ",- "
I
I
,
I
I
- ,
,,
I,- -'
I , ',- '
, ,
- ,"L
'','
'I ,'- ' -- " ' , -i ' L%'; ', ,, ,, ,-,, , -,
L'
" ',y
L
,
-,
- ,
,I, L I -,I,, , , " _ ,
_i
,
I
, -"
,
,
'
, , ,
,
,
'L - * W l" " ,
-- " ,
.,
,
, I- I " ,I , , _
I", ,
.
" ,
- ,
"I I1, II
,
:,
,
I ,,
7, 7
I 'L, , ,
- , . . , - ,-- , -,
I
I
, , - , ,,. ,
!
I
- , , I
, ,
I,"
,
I,
I
- - ,
I- I
- 1,
,
,
" - - - ,,, , ,_,-IL I
,
,, I , .1
,,, .'-L I
, "
, . ,I,-,. , I , " LI , I I
,-, I
-,
': -",. I I j- , I ' , " ':L " - 7",-I ,I ,
!
,
,,
. l
1,
., ,.
,, ,
"
,
, ,
I 1
- - -1 , "
I :.
L ,
- -, j
, , ,,,
, ,
,
- .
,
I
I
- -, I
-,', ,
,
,-"
, , , , ,, I ,
,- : I
" - , ,
I
, ,
I
I
I
I
,
11
. 1,
T1
-1
-: ," , , : , -,.I
I ,
,
-,
,, . ,
" -,
r , "
"
:
- , -,
, - : ,- - ," -,, I - I , ,
n
-I
- C, I 'LI . I ,
,
. -I , I Ii,
I
-,
r , ,
I
I I
11
I
V I
-, ", i - , . , ,
,
,
I I
I
i , ; I
, ,
I
-I I
I II,
I
.
I
I
- -- I
.
,
,I. I,
I I
I ,
-,
' , : L, ,
I " ,
, .l.
I ,r
, ,
,
I
,
.
I 11
I
, ,
, '-, ,
' " L '
I
' -- -,,
I
' ,
i ,
I
.,
- I
II
, "
II
,i
,
, ,, 1
,
,
, ,
_
_
, "I
I,,
e
:
- - - --. I .1
i
I
,
,I I
I I
, - I - , I " , ,
I
, I , ,, , I
I
.
I
- - ! I ,
-,
I I
L 1 - , I I " I- ,
, , - - ,
.
,I
I ,
I '.
, , I
I ,
; ,
,
I
,
,
IL
I
I I I
,
- :
ll - - L
- , I
L
t- l I, , .
.
I
, 1
- ,
I
I I
, ",
,
,
,
I,
L
II'll, . , " I- . , -,,
,
,
I"
I
I
- ,
, I
I
I I I
L
, ,
- , , - ,4 - , ,-. ,-,
. I
.1
I
,", ,
,
I
1,
- 1 "I
I
I , z, , - IL , ,
:, I, -, . I',
,, -, ,
,
I
I
.
, ,
,
,-- I,
,
, -,,, ": ,
L
I
L,'
,,"
I
,
" I. ,: I I I
,
,
I
I
I
,
,' I , ,
, , I , I II
-' , 4' ,,, '
,
,
. ,
,
,
-, II , 1 , ] , I I
11', :
'' L- ' ,
I
-: I
, , " , -,II I
L
I
I , , I
,
- , I
;- , I
,
, - : ,
, ,
, - - I
;
1,
,,, ,
:I'," , , 'L
,, ,
I
, :
,
I
,,, ", -, -,", IL
", ,
.
' ,
L, ,
'
";4- :
1
-, .,
L,
I
.
,
, ,
I,
7.
I
I
, "I ,; ,
,
,
"
,
I
"
,
-,-,
I
I
.
; , *,
I - I
1
:,,I,, - I
, I , I,,
,
, ,, -L'.lrl, ,
I
I
I
L" " I I ."
I
, ,
" - 1. I
2-- : I
L
- I
11 I I
I
. I
,
I
II
,
,
, - 11 i
I I I- ,
.
-, - 1 I
, I
I
.
I
.
I,
,
I ,
, '
I - , I I I -I
I
,
I
I LI
I
I
L ,
I I
I
,
,
,
.
I
,,I 4, ,
,
,
I
-LI: ,
,
,
,
I
,,
.,,, , , , - -,,' , ,
, ,
I , I
IIII I
,,,,
i
I
I " '2 , I - - t .
,
I I, " , I L
,
I
I
I , I,
I "
', , , I ,
, 1
, '* ,,,,, ,,:%,,, ,T ' -- -i ' L '
1"
.J
.
I
11
,
,- 1
4
,
'
- ",
1"
I
I
I
I
,
,
, ,
, , .I - - II I
I
- , ,
I
'. 1, - ,
' :
L
,
,
' l!r " , - , ,,
I
,,
I
, 1, , -, I" ,"L-, . I.'
I
,
- 11" I
:, ,
_ I,
, ,
,,
l - : " :: ,
, :
,
:t "
I
L.
,
1, -,, , ,
II I I, I I
I I :
I I, ,
, ,: ,
,
,
;
, ,
1
I
'L
II
, ;,, ,,
-, , ,
" iI
, , ,,
-,L-, "".
:
"I - - , " , . - 1. ,
"',
, , I _" ,;
,
,
,
, , ,
"
," I ,
,
,z ,- ,, : I :I
I ', r '
I
I
,
I
I
, :; N., , ,, ,,,Ie
I
L'
- I
,
I ,
. ,
II
II
I I I
I
, I
I "I I LI -,
I
I
,
, ':
,
- -,I, " ,!, '4 , - - ,-, ,-- ,7
I
, - , l '-I
..
, , " L, ;
-'.
11
,
, I I I
,
I
- I :, ,
.
- ,
I
,,-,,-,* , , ,,,'
I
L
I;- I I I ,, I
, !- , , , ,
I1
,
:': : I
,,,
r, : ,
,
I
- ",
'L
, . ,
1,
I'll-,
,
I
,
1
, ,, ,, : ,,-' ,
,I
I
I
I
I
II
I I II ,
,':--, : ,-,
;I 11 I I
I ,,
" ," ' ,,,,,,,
I
I L
.
I
I
,I
I
I, ,
I
I
I . I
I
.
I
I
-,
I
,
, ;4
,
' L I "; - , , I
I
- ,
II
I
,. , . ,
I
,
L.
,
, I
, , - L ,- ,," ,,,,, ", ', 7, , , , , ; ,- ,
II ,
I
I I 11 I
I
I
. ,
I- I
, I I,II
,
, I
I
1 I . I - ,- II, , I . I 1, 1, I I I I
'. I , , .
I
I
I
-I
;4 , ,
,
,
, I . I
: ,
I
"I I "
I
,
I
I
,
I
II
,
I
, ,1-1 1; I
L
"
,
,I,
, , ,,
,
I
I
I I
,,
i
, I I
11
I
I
I
,
, L I
I ,
11 , - ]
-I,
,, I,
" -.
, I
I : '. ,
I
I - -"!,, I I I
IIL
L'
I I
.
II
, , ,I , - : -, I - , , ,
I
I I -,, , -, , -,,,;.e ,
,
I
I
I
I
_ -,
I I I
I "
I
I I I
II
I 11 I , I ,
.
I
- ;
. I
, , ; , -, . I I
III
I I
I
I
I
,
I
I
-'
,
I
11 I
I
,
,
,;
'. ,
I
- ,
- ,:
"
I
"
I
' '
I II
i
I I '
,
I
I I
I I
I I I.
I
I I
I , I LI I I
.
'
I
I
II , I I
I
I
II
,
,
- . L I
"
-- I ' _1 , - L -,
I
I
.
I
,
, I
I
.
IL I
I
I
I I
I I
I
,
,
" ",
.' L,, ;
'
- :
I
I
I.
I
" 11
., L 11 , I,,,-- I
-I -- ," ,-- - 11" 1, - I 1,
", "" I . I ,
1. .L I
, - ., I
.
I
I
, I 11 I
II
,
I
I
I
I
I I I I1,
I. , ,
II
I
I
I
,I I
I
I I I I II I i , , I I
,,
I
I
I I
.
I
, 1,
I -L I
:
- ':
iI
" I
: L
I,
, '
' L
I I I
, I
I ,
,
, -'
L
I.
,-, I
-, .1..
.
I
I
- -- 11
1, , 1-:
I ",
I
I
,
,
-I , - .
,I
I I
I
ll
L
I .I
I ,
.
I
I
:I
.
I
I I
I I
,
,I'
I
- , r ',
' , ' , L,
I
II - c, I I
I
II
I I
I
,
,
.,
, , , ,
I
I
I
, ,
1
,
- , . '- , ,
I
11I ,
I
I I
I
I
. I
I
I
I
I
I
I
II
"
I : ,
,
,,
I
I
I
I .
,
I
I
I
I
,
L
,
, I , 11I
.
L,
. ,
" , , " -.- 1, T I I
I
,
I I
.
I ,
,
I
,
-I
I
I
, 'I
-1 I
I
,
I
I "I
I
I
I
I
II
, 11
I , ,
L - i I I
,
r", I "
I
I
,,
I
I
I 1,
,I
I
- , k-l I
I
I
II
I
:: ,
, I
I
II I
I
, - -,
-',
,
,
I I,
.,
I 1, I
L, I
I ,- I
I
II
I
.
T
I . I I
11
,: ,
I ,
I
I
I
II
I
I. , ,
, ,,
I
I -1 I , I I
I i . I
I
, - il 1, " I - - .,
I '
' - , ", " ,
I
;
I
I,
-. rI %
I
II
I
j - , ,
I, , " " I I
I I,
I
I
- I
I
I
- I , , - ;,
.
,
1,
I
, - I " 1
, ,
,
; ,
,
- . I
I I
I
I,
1 I ,,
11
.
- I
I
I
- - I
,
,,
11
,
, , ,
,
,
,
I
L
I
I I
,
,
.
LI
I
- I , - "' , I,I , ." ,- - , ,
- ,- , ,.
,I ,
I
I
1
, ,
' :,' , , , I I ,,
"
I I
. I
I
,, "I
I I
, 1, - - I
- ,
. I 1,
I I
,- I r
,
,
,_L
,- I
,L I
I
,
II
II :, I I , I
L
I
, I I , I .
I
I - 1 , II
I1
, , ,
, ,
1
, ,.- i
I
I
:I!.
- I , i
:I - .
,, L,I I' , -- , L,,
- ,,
:
II
, -, , ,I
..
,
,
I
,
,
I
I
.
I
I . 1, .I
,
I i
I
,
,
/ ,, , , - I,, , , II
, - c-,
,
, , ,
i
11
I
,
I- ,
,
I
I
I
11 I I 1,
I
I
II I III ,
, -, , 'I': --- "ll',"'l,,
II
i , ,I
. !
,
, ; ,I
I
I
- , , ,
I
I
L
.,
I
I
II I
I
- II
-"
I,,
I I
I I II I
,
,
,,I"
. , I
, I,I- . I-I
-, I ,
-, - , I ,
, ,
;
I
e
.
, , ,
, - " -, " I ,
I I
'L
.
,,
I
I
,
I ,I
L
L 1,
II
I I - I
I
- -,-, " I
I
,, , ":, ,I,
I L
I
,I
, ",
,- ; I
,
, -, ,
'I,
i. - I
,
,_ ,
,
,I
_,- L'
I
,
- , I
I
I
I L, -'ll,
1:
I
I
.
I
II L
, L L
I I
: ,
,4 :,. ,,I , - . I
, II I
,
, ,
, ,
,
I , -I
I
. I ,-, , I,;,- .
,
I
,I I I
I
, " '
, "
I ' I, - , ' , "
I
I
I
I
, I
II
I I ,
I
I
I
.
I
I
II "
I ,I I II I - I 11 I
I I
- -1 I , I L 1- I11
-,I - ,: I:i I 1 I
,,, , ,
I
:,
, .
-L , 4 I , , ,
-'
I
I - ,,, I, I :
I
I
I
II
I
1
z LI - IL
.
" -,- - " , ,
,
" , ,-, "
' . I
'
, L,
I I . I -I I
11, ,"I
I
11 I ,
1-" -, . I % ,
,
1.
I
I
- , I
I
,
.
I
.
I- ."
t
, ,
I ,
" , I ,
I
,- , ,
, "
i '.
,
,
I
I
I,
.
I I I
I
11
I
II
I ,
1, I
,, "1,,, ,
, ,I I
, ,L L
,
" " -- - -1
I I
,
- 1 , ,, , L
- I
11
I I
,
1
,
:
I
I
I
,
,
-, - -,
, ;;
- -" , " , , - - ,
- "
,:
,
4 , - ":
. , ' L' "' ' " " I - I
I
;
I
,,, ," ,
I
I I
" I , , I
I
I I LI
I
I
,I
,
LI
",
-, :
I
,
I
I II
,
, - II I I
, , - ,
,
I
I
, ,
I
:1
: I 11
II
I .
I I I
I Il
I
I
I
I .
I
I I
I I
,,
I
,,- "
, , ,I
.
, - - I
I " .
,- " , , ,
I
,; ,-- , , ,
II,
I
I
;
'
,
,
- , -'*; , - ,,,,
-f, ;
' "
L, , ,
,
, " - ;I ,
I, -,11
- ,
,
I
,
L' , ' ,
- '-" L
I
I
I
"L , I ,
,
, ,
,I - ,,,
L
,
I , ,, ,
" I
1 Il ' I '
I
L I L,
. --, ' I ,-,I- . ,,,, - I . I I I" I I I " I I -,- : , , III I. ,, - ll., -_' , I 1,,4 ",, , - , 1,I, I ,,I , . I
, -,
I
I
-,
, ; -', ,,,-, ,
,
III
I
I
I
I
I
-- .
I
,
,
I ,
. I II , I," ,
, _ , ,
,
,,
-I
I,
,-, I , ,
.
I:I
,
"
,
11
,
, - I . I
I
I * , , , -,, I ,,,,
, ,': , ,
,
,, " ,
- L .
,I I
I
I
I
,
- :, I ,
,
,, ,z , I . I,,I,
1,
I
- I,
,L L
.
,,
I
,
-, ,,
,,, '.1, -,- , 11- II. I I - - ,-- , , " -,
I
I
'
I,
,11
11 - , - 11
" 'L,
,
- ,
i! I
,
"; 1, - , , -- , ,L, " , -,t',
,
,, ,' . " , -,, " , , ", ,,- ,L' -L, , ,,,
,;
",
,
I
.
,
I
.
I
- ; ,
.
,
I
- I
I I"I-1- I - "
,
-,' f
- I I
'
- ,
"
' ' " ' ' ,,,
. I I I :
,
L
I I
',
I
I
I
I
I
,
I
' ,,
, ,
,,,, , ,
, , , ,
'
t- ' :"" ' "'-"Z' : 'i j2l:;L'
'; ' ,
1
I
I
I
1,I
,
I
-: ", , , , ,
- , I
I,
n
I
' ,
I '
11 '.
1 'I L - , - '
',-- L-'I, ' ' ','" -, , , -, , ,'- , :-, "-L,", ,
"
"
, .
,' ,
, ',,
L ,
,
,
, ,
__ L ' ,
1
. , 1, , ,,
,
I
,
,
,
_
- ,
"
.'
I- .
, I
-,
, 1, , - : , , - ,
, - ,, , , , , ,, ,
11 , - - I
-,
,
,
L, ,
' *, ' '-: , ,
' , , "I j '
- ', _"
, , L
I -:1 I 11 I I I
I
.
I _ ,I
I I I I I
,
L.v ,,, ,, -, ,, ,,,, , Vl, ,,, - - - '.! _, ,
' L,-, ,
L
'
,
,, ,
L , II
:
,, , ,
I - -,", - II" I -,
,
I I
- - , L I I 'L -, -- - C , _ , I,.__
I I , ,I11
.,
"
_I, : ,p 'I'
, ,
.
I
I , 1,
I
I I
I
I
I
': - - I
, I _
, "
__
,
- ,
- I
I , , ,
.
"
_
, . , _,
_ , , ,
- .
I
I
I,
L
:
L
_
_
, ,
I
. I , I,
L
,
I
I
I . ,,
1,.
,, I
I , ._ , ,. ,
I
,
I
,
I I:- I L ,
_
I - '
,
I I
' L
:
''
I
_
,
.
.
,:
,
,
I " ", 11, , , * , ,
, , I -' I II 1"e" Ir ,
,
I
-1 1,
I
I II,; - ,
'IL
,_"
"
1,L,,
-,, ,
E, , ,,, ,; -, , , ,
"ij
: - ,
,
I
,
I - ' '
I % ,
-,
I
I
, ,,
I
-1 I
I
- I
'
-,
, , L ' , ,, ,I
.1
- , ",
,, ,
"
,
,-,
-1,, "' ,
, - "', -,', ,
,, ; " 1,
I
2, I
I I
I
I,
1 , - - II
I
",, -" , ,, , ,, ", ",,, ,
,,,
", , , . .- ; - ,
,' - - L,, - I
1,
1, ,
I
.
,j
,
,
L' ;,
,
' 'L " , -,' ,
",
- I I I ,- I - -,5'I' - - , , ,"--: : . , r: ,., , -,, , , - " ,. -',,-L
, , ,"
,
" , ,
I
'
-',' - ,
,,
"
,
I
L;
,,,
r
I
- -1 I,.
11
- , I ,
1,
I,
II
, ,,,
I11
.
I
,
,_
, , _ * , , , , ,L
,"I' -, 1
' L, ', "',',
I
j
,,
LI I
I
I I , 1, 1 L ,
, '. : " "" . , -, ,
,
,., , " _
,
__
, _ -'
-" , , - ,
- -1
I
., I
-I Ili , - I
-,
,.
- ,, I
.
- -'' I4 1 T , ,I , I
L
,
I
I, ,--, , -' , -,,
,
,
%', 1., , ITI , I I
; ,
,
4 ,'
,
.
L 'I
"
I
il , ,
I
-,,, -, '' ' ' ' ' : ,
I" I -, I,
I
I
, ,
- - , : , I , ,
.
, ,, ,"
,,,,, - ,
, I
,
. - ,I ,
" . ,
, - I, ' ' ' ' . I
- ,4 - .,
' '_
, ,, , ,'-,-I
11 I .
,
, ,
,
7 ,
,
I
I I I ,,, , ;I ,,, ,4tA ,R ,
I
,
I
_ , "
, ,
L 7
,
-. ,
;,
, ,
,
I
-, , " - , 2- ,- ,, I
- ;e 11 - " "'
,
I
,,
"
- 11 :
'
-,
,
,t
L
, "T , " , - I. 1 -4 Yk 4,:,-,: .,, :
": ,
,
I
I
-, ,
1, k , ,
I
- , ,-, , ',,, , 1 , ,
,
, 1'1' ,
"
I- I
"
L,.
I
- II
,,_ ,
I
,,, . ;' I, ,
, , ',- ir ,, ,:
I I -, . , I
. - , ,I'-;
i
I
I I : i'L ,: , , , 7",,I ,I I
II
I
II - I
,
,It ,
- ; "I I,
,
-1
I
": , I
-I ,
,
, ,, .
11
I
I
I, I , ,
-I III I
I
1,
, I
, -,- ; ,
. - ,
L ., , " , '. , ., I
-, , ,'>
I ,I
, L 11
L'
,,
. - - I
W,
11
-,., -- ,,
- -I
, ,
, , I
,,
II
: '
I
I I .
I
I
I I I
.
1,
--, ,, --,- ,
I
, IK ,
"
, I,
,
I
I .
. I - ,"
I
I
- -1
, I , , I" ,
I - .
I ,
,
I,
I
I
I
':
I,
I :
,
I rl, : , ", ,' -, , , ',"I.
11 I
I I
I
I
. ,
I
"I
,-I
I
I
.
-4
:,, , 1
, ,. -, ,, , i,,4,;,
"
"
. '
L
I
I
I -I I
,
,
,
I I
1 %
I
I
II
,, , ,
11 ,i4,t IF
' , '- ' ,.,,- L, , , , I '
I
I
I
I,, , ,
, I, , , ' '
LL
"i
I I . :
I
I
I
I
. I
I
I
I
I
- I
- ,
. 1, I
1,I" I , , ' I "
, ,
I
, I
,,
I
ll"T-'
I '124
, " ", I , 11 ,I
L
I
I
- L
I L
I
. I ,
I"
j
,
', ,- '.
I
II I :
I I
I
,I
I , 1.I , % ,,i : ,,, , ,- _ I Z ,I 'L,, L, , .",,I , ,
,1 , ,,
- ',$ iL-1,I
11
- , , ;.
,I
I- ,I
I I I I II
I
I I I
I
II
I
I
11
,
, L
i
, II
I
I
- I
I "I
- ,
I 1- , ,
e - ,-,
- ,. , - -, , "
, I I
L'
-I
,
,
I I
I
I1
,
.
I
II
I
I I
, , , ,,
I,
14
,
I
1
I
-1
I
- 1!- -- ,- - , ' -, '!
" , II
'I , I ,
";,
' ., ,i " ,
, ', " '
I
"
'
" I
I
I,
- I
, :
I
",- I
,L
.
I,
, I
I
I
I L
I
I
II L ,
,, ,
,, ,
1 - L, r
,
.
.
" , <,, - -',
, ,I 'I',",, ,,, .- " .ll:-7,, "I,", - 1 : ,I' " , ! ,I
,
,
I
" . -, .
I
, ,,, ,
,
I
,
I
,,'
I I
,
, I
, -,
I ,,
I
,I ,
, , - ;,
I-- 11 ; I , j, , ;, I _, - "L III 1, I ,
I . I
,
a ll ,,
' , 'I -,
,, _, '7' ',,
,' '
, E; ,
_
L *
i II
- ,
I
I
I
I,
:
II ,
I,
Ly
" '- - . I ,
,
I I
I I
,
" "
,
,
,
I 11
1
,7,k,
I
I
, L , 'L,p
,
- ,, "', I
i I
, - I 'L
I
I
I11 , . c
I
:
.
I
I .
, ,_I L
'
,l ,
.
I
, ,, , ,I
4
,
'I
- , , I , -, -,
, II I I ,I ,
_ 'I'
_ :
L, , ' I I ,
,
,, , I , : I I
_ , - I
I
, I
- r
," ,
- - -. '
I - , - - I:
, li -I
1
I
,
1,. ,
I
I
,
,
1,
I
I
I
I
I
I , ,
: ,, , -1 I ,:-- - - -, ": - " L Ij , , I I
11
I, " ,
- 5
,
, ,, I ,, I ,I ,
I , , I '- , I - I
I'
, , , I -- ll -, - I 1,I
I I I
:1 1
7 1I
.,

,
"

li!, -

''

,

, "'5".L",-r
', ,

I

_
L,

'

",,,

"

I

I I . , ,, : ,
11 -1
L ,
r',
I

11,

_ ,, ,

-11

.

I

" '
11 ,

,

, -, '4

I , i , - " , . ,:, : ,,
_: ,

I

'. " L",, , I1,

- I' , : , I '- - '
,, , J L ,
-,
, ',"

-

'

I- , ,
, 1
, ,
: ,, ,
,
11
I ,
,
I
,
I" II - - ,
I
, I 1, ,
- I- , II ,
I
I
I
I.
11 ,
"
, , , ,j - :1- , , I
- , I
' L I, , ,
: - , -,L " , ;, --,
-',
,
I , ,
,
l I
' ,
I
, ,
I
I, I
I;
II
-- ,,
, - 'L- I., I, -,," ,,
,- i --, , , -,"
"
L
I
:
, *, ',
,
L"I1,
, :, 'I,
7 ,
1 , , -I, , , : ,. , , " ,,, I
,
,
,
":
I
- , ,
",
,
i
I. ,
1, I
L
,
,
- , I
I
, -, I ,I
, I
I
I ,
I
I
:
:
, - , I; I - ,
,- , ,
, , ,
.
, ,
, I
,
." ,
I .
I
- I
,
,
,
I
II ,
I I
,
, ,
,I
, L ,
,
- - I I
I
I
I
.
, . . , I I
,,
-,
, ,' - -'- I: . I , " I
I
I
,
, ,
I I
,
",
1 ,-, ,
:I
I
I I "
, ,, , " ,
I
,
- I
:I, ,
II I
I I
, :L!
'L " -' jll *
I, : . , , , ;%,
,
'
I
,
_:I
, L, 1 I
1, I
,
I ; L - - 2 , II
2
,
" , , ,i,','.
- x
,,
- ,
,,
-- ,, -,
,,,- , - I
- ,: ,
" I ",r ,-- ,I, , - I, I,
I
,
,
, -,
,, .
,
' 'T
L, , : , '
' ' '
I
- I I L'
I
" 1, , , ,I
" " - I' ' - :; ",
- ' ,, I
,
- ",
11 I
I
I
.I
,L
'
' '
L
,
.
,
, I
,
L ,
, ,
.
I
,
, r,- ,
z , . , ,
, ,I , I, ,,
I
, L I I
I, I
:
, -' - : L , I
,,,
I I
I
- 11
II
I
,
,,
,,, ,
- , , , , - I
,
,
,
, - , :"
,, ;
-,
.
, , I
, " ,
.
I,- I I . . ,
, .
, -1 , , II I
,
,- ' " ,L
, !
I ' . I ,, I
]
: ' ,
- i
, ,- - ,II, , ,
I -,
,
- I I :- I , ,
,
, ,
I , -- -,-.: LI - :, , . I,
L - "
,
,
L
, ,"
, : :
,
II
,
' -. '-' " ,,, ,
,
L
1, "
-L- , , ,, II, I , I
, ,
,
'
L I
1,
I
-,
I, II ., ,, L ", I, - "
,- ,
."I I I - "
, ,I,
,
I I 1
." ' , ,
I "I I
-, , I
I
I ,
I , I
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
- " , ',' ,. '
I
-L ' 'l -,
,
" "
I I ..
I
I
-, '.
1,.,
, .-, ,
- I
I
I '; I,
L,I' "
_" , ,
!,
I
I ,,
" , I -: ,
-I
.
I
.
I
I
, , - I 1-1
-" I I
,,,,,,, - ,-, - .
, I
ll
I -I
,.
4 "'
" I
, ,
"
, ;,
- I
'r
I- I ,- , , - ,
,
- ,
,
, , ,, I ,
,
,-. -, , -,,, -, .' ,I I,, , 1 , ' I I I
, ,'L ,
, I, i
,
, ', ,- ,
",
" -,
- - - " ' "' ' ' , , ,, ,,, 1,I I L' . I ', .- I ,
,, ,
, ",
- .- - ,,, , , - - ,
,
I
.
I "- .- - Ii
,
,
,
I
I
,
I
I
.
'.
., I
I
,I I
II
*
- ,
, I',' I_' L' I ' ' '
I 1,
,
,,
" . - , - " , , ", , - ,, , ,
I
I
4 I
- I. ,
I I I
I
:.
I
,, ,
, ,
I : , , , - . - , -, I, I ' - '- ,I I
I
I,
,
",
- ?
" , , ,,
- -, " - ,
, , ,
,I ;
,
;
I
I
, ,
I
I
,
, ,,
1,'' "
. . - I -I
I ,
, , I , I
" , II',L,- - I' '- - - ,I ", " - ,, , , , I " , ' , 'L , , ,, , 1.
L ,, " I,
,
,
_
I
, ' , , 1, , I '' ,
L - I ,, ,
, '. ' , , ,,, ,, '- ," ,', , ', , "
,,
,
- :
I
I
I "
1 , , -,
;, ,
,
,
, , , , -L ,
,
I
I, I
I
-1
, I- . " , , ,
,, ,
, - , s,
,: ,
,'
- , , I
_, ',
,.
" ,
,,- ,
, ,,
, ' 'L, - - ,
I, ,
- 1:
'','
I
,
,
I
,
, ,, , ,, I,,
! -,
,
.' L I"
,
, :
I, , ", ,, "I II
,,, -i- , -, , ,,'
, ,
,
I I
,
,,,,? -, -I--' -,,-,,iI- -, -, , I," ::, ','-, ', ",-,,,-O,-- -, W , ,,, -1, , " ,
, L
,
, -, , , , ", , " '! -, :
,,,, ' - ,-L
,',
'o
,,
I I
,
I- j I
-1
II - I
,j , , , ,,,, . ,,
, -",
,
W I I - -, - -- I - ,,, - , , ". ,- I . I . , ",
" 1, I , , -- ,,
,,
- I
.
L ,
I:
,
I
I
,, , , . ,
I I ,
,
"
,
I,
"
- , ,i,
LI,
, ' ',
I
"
" ,' '
,
.
Ii
,
,
I
,
,
I
I
' ,' ,
, .
_
,
I
, , . ,
:,
I
-1 . , I, I
1,
,
:
"
"
I
"
1;,"A l
I x - -, , - - , - I
,
'I L I 5 K, ,- ,V ,
t1 I
I , II ,
,
,: , - :
,,
, , , -" - , . -- ,
-- ,,V,
I
I
L: , I LI
I
,
,
, ,- ' I ' L 'I :1 I
"' 'L -I I ' 'L ',I .,11 , - , I- ,- -- .1
,,
.
I I
I
-1
.
1, I
, ,
,
' P 111
,- --,VIN I ', ;* "it -- I . , I 7W , --- 7"'L"" - , ,-,
'. - ,
,
I ,
\
O
I
-'I, I
I
,
,
- I , ,-I, , ,,,,,
-, , I
-," , , ,: , ,, I - .- ,I , - .
. ,,
'
I
1 " I ,1, "
, i
I
- I
'
' ' L
I, ,I
'' ,
' , -1 - , ,L" ,,
II !, ,
,
,7 , , ,
I - 10,
,
jI
.
,
I I
I
I I
I
-,, , "
I
,I
I
,
I I
, I ,
,
, ,,
L ' -,, L
'
- , ,, ,- ., ,- , " I - "" ",7,
,I I
I
,
1 ,,
, ' I
- ,
, " ,
I
I
I
I ,,
I
, I I,, ,,
,- .-j ,, i ," ,, ,", ,, ,
I
, ,
II
,. , I I
, j 1,
"
, I Il
I
, , I
,, I , ,,
!, ,, - ,
,,
L
I
, I,
If I
'..
"i " ,
,
I
,I -, ,, ,L, , I-,
" , ,
,
, ,
,
I ,
I ,
- ,- - , -, ,
- - - -, , :
,, ,
,
,
I
I
I , , " 1,
I
,
I
A ll ,,,
-,
,I,
I '
' "I I , - " L I- I,I
, i -I,- 'I,,
, ,,v , I"', , 1 I , ,, I "
L
,
-,, , , , ' -I , ,,
Ir
,
, , II ,
,
,,,
,
"
, ,
L" ,-, , , I ,, , ,,
I I
I ,
,
; -, -, , " ", , , , " ,
,
,
I
" I
"
,
,
"-- ,,
1,
, ;
I,
I , ,,, , : ,, , ,- - " , , ,, ,
, ,
,
,
- - , ,
,,,
,. ,
II
I
- I I
,
I
,
I
I
- ,,- , - -,, , ,--, , ,,,,,
,
, ,
. ,
,- ';11
" , , ,, ': :L ,
I
" ,I
I I
, -'. I
,I,
, , 0
-, ,
,
1
- , : 11 - I
-,
- ,
, I
,, , - I I I
I I
I
,. , _,
,
I I
,
,
I
I, I,, , L ,,,
- . I I
. - II
-1 - L I
I
-,
, "", ,
11
I
,
I
, - L -.
I
I
I
.
I
I
I
I
I
'L, L,: " - - , L AL-"' "
11
,
L
,
II II L , , , ,
I I
-,
I
I I'
' , L-L' : , , I
I
I I
I I
I i ,
I , :- I ; ,
I
" ' --C L4 "
- L, 'L ,, , - 1 7", ',-," ''
1
,
,
I
,
,, ,
I
,
L I
I
-I I
I I- I
.
, I"
.
,,.
I
I ,
I
I " , , - :,
,
I
1_
, , I 1, , , , 2 , , '-, L
, I I, -1 . L
I-1,
, ,,
I , - - '- ,
" .
I
,
, - L-l i - ;; " "',
,
I
,
Z, - ,
I
I
I e- -- "L , '-'- 4
"
, , L, :
, ," ,,,
,
"'
1
-, I
,
,_
,- -,
" ,
,
.
, I
I
,
,
,
:1 ' ' ' , , - " ' ' " - ' L
,--11 - ,- , ' ;" n,
I ,
,I I 'i,- - I II
,
, 1,
- ' !,
L", '
I I T
L'
"' ,
-7.'
I, I
,
,,
I
" .
I .
I
I
, ,
I -r
,
, ,I
I I , ,":- ,- , " ", , I"-,:t...... , L , " _, : ', ' ,' I,
C
.
_, I
L _ -, ,
. L , I" - , ,,,
: , ,I
I " .'
'" " I
I
L
l ,
,,
L '
L
,
- 1, L I
, 1, I
;,
- ", - L*,
,
11 I, " I - , - I '
,
- ,
,I
I
I . ," ". I, , - ,
" II
-,' ,,- 1,
I
.
, I
,
II I I
_
,
, , ,,
,
,
-. , ,
, , -, , i1_ , ,
I I
L,, I
L
I ...
'
'.
,
I . ,-,. - - -,, ,' I, ,-,
, -,,
,---: ',-,-,
-- -,
", ," ,
", : I I
- I
,',, ,
1, , , ,
,
-] I ,
I
,
:
I I
I
I
I
.
," , .
I ,,
, I
- ,
' 'I" . ,,,- , ,- ' ,
L' I,! ,, - - , , ,
I I , I I ,,, , II - , .," I
-k - 1'3
- ,.
II,
- 2, - , ,
L, , R , - - ,
,
; ,,,,- , ,-,' " ,
I
I
'
I I , i,
-,
- I . "' , -, ,
,V , ,
1, 1-1, I I
,
, " """, ,, W, ; ,,i'
' ,
, ,
,
$ S ,L
,_ _ ,
_,
_
L-iL; , ,,,, -, , I , , , ,, 1, , i
I
,", i
, I- - , ,
- ,
,"
II
I
I ;
,
I
I
- I I., 5, , '. ?,-- ,, I' , " "J,
1,
L_, .
I 1, I", I I - , ,
- " ,,' L
"', , ,, , ,-, ' , , g ,
, ,'O ", I, ,
,I
,l-, v ",
,'. "
,.
1
- 1 ,"- ;,, , - I
,'
I, I,
- , - 1 11
,
, "
,,
,,,,_,,
-, - - - , , , ,, , - ,
I
,5 1, I I
,
,":
I,
-I I
""
, I- I, I " . ,
, , ,, " , , ,
,I- , 1,
, ,I
,
,,
LL ' ' ' ' ' L' ,
"
-'
--,- , , ,",%' ,",
,' A -- ' " - -1,- ,, ,IT,
I,
, " 'I'Ll" ,I,
. ,
,
I
- , I- .
I , ,
.
11
,
i
Ij- ,
..
,5
,
L
1, ,
I
-, ,
- - ,
".III ,- " ,-- - , ,,, %,-," ', *
, - T
,
,
i "
I,- "
-Z r
, "
,,
, I , , " ", ,
'r - ,I
'' L ,,,,
.
,," ' ,
I - 11
-1
I
,
I
,, , I,
,,
: - ,
_
,
, ,
I - , ,,
"
,,
,,%
"O ,,, -,- ?
,
, . , ,
.- - , ,,,
, 4 P,-" 6W ',
", , I
," _ ,
_
,
,
"
.,
,
I I
,I
ftl
11 '- -, ,
- 1,
o
L,
, ,
-, ; ', , L"'n ,
I
- "', - t , ",,'I, , _; ,1, , , 1 i' 'i ,I, ,,, " I,, , ,
I
.
1,
,
I
I
;
ll . , ,. . I 1, ,,
-, , , ,, ,NN
,
" , , t ;
, " *,
r ,!
iz, I I -- ,, "
,, , - r1f ,
,
",
41
I- 'L ' YL' ' ,' I , , ', , -,L
,
':
1, I
-,
, , ,-, "I
I
L ! ,' , ,
,
-,,
!
,,
,
- :
1,
I
-, , , , " ,, .,, ,,
, .,I:
,-'P -: IL"
", , " ,
,
_I
, - - ,,- ! ',i
,
"
.
,- 1
4r
I
I
"
- L,
I
, - I
I
- I .- w
,
,
.,
-, . " " , ,I r I I
. ,,
,
, ,
11 , ,f ,
,
".
, I ,,
,
,
5 . , I
'.
I ":, . I ,-,
:; 1,, ,
,
L,:
,, ,
,
- II I
.
I
I
I
IL I I
I
,
I
't L
I I ,;,,
, , I
I
-kl
", , ,, 'I ,
I, ,
,
',,'
,I, I, ,, , I
I ,
L,
;, I ;
, 1-ll
I
,
I
,
,,,,
'i
1 ,,
, ,,;
r II
,
,,
,
II ,
,
- . " I, I ,
,
I -I ,
,
I
,I 1, "
- ",
I
I , 11,- , I
I I
I,
, '
II
I
, I I ,
:
, I ,
'j , ,- - ,
I ,I
.
11 I , I
I I
I
, "
I
., , .II -,,
I
-, ,- , ,
I
I
I
I , ,
I
'%, ,
I.1
I
, :
"I
, , ,
-: ,
I II ,I I -, , , $ ,,
-1
,
I I rl
, - I I
.
II I
, Z,
I
I
II
I- I L - 4 ,,,47 , , ',,,,,,
I
I I , ,I
I I -,.,
4
1 ' , l L ,, ' i
,
- I :
I ,I
,
., I
, I I
II II L
- I
,
I,
II, , I
,
, I
,
.
- ',L , ",, 1
- , , I11, , , , ' L
, 5K
I
I
I ,
I I
I I
4
I
11 -I "
I
I. I
-,
- -V,
, 4
,
- , -1 , "
" "I
,
ft , ,, ,- X,
I
" -,
, t, ,
% I - ' ' - -, "I ' - I --, I, ,-'I-" , -, I, I- I -:,- ,,',-,,' ' ", _ 11, I?, I , ,, , " - ' -,
,I
"
,
'; 7,
-ZT
I, ll ,
,II
, I, , -"4r ,, , : ,
, :., ,-,,
I 1 , 1'
,,
,,
'L
,

.

I

I

-

I

-

I

I
I

I

I , .

,

I

L,
' '

Proof Book Number I- Contents
Copyright, 1913, by THE LUTHER BURBANK SOCIETY

Chapter I.

HOW THE CACTUS
GOT ITS SPINES-AND How
IT LOST THEM
A SIDE LIGHT ON
THE IMPORTANCE OF ENVIRONMENT

-J

g

Chapter II.
-

TWENTY-THREE POTATO SEEDS
AND

WHAT THEY TAUGHT
A

GLIMPSE AT -

THE INFLUENCE OF HEREDITY

Chapter III.

No Two LVING THINGS
EXACTLY ALIKE
INFINITE INGENUITY
THE PRICE OF VARIATION

All Rights Reserved

DIRECT COLOR PHOTOGRAPH PRINTS
Illustrating These Three Chapters in
Finished Volume.
Page
6. Armored Against Its Enemies.
9. Every Inch Protected.
13. A Relic of Past Ages.
16. The Cactus Still Bears Leaves.
19. As Smooth as Velvet.
22. A Transformation Seen in the Making.
25. After a Year in the Dark.
27. A Typical Cactus Flower.
30. The Monkey Puzzle Tree.
33. Spineless Cactus in the Patch.
39. Two Kinds of Leaves on a Single Plant.
42. Heredity Shows as Color Streaks.
44. The Sensitive Plant Untouched.
45. The Same Plant Two Seconds Later.
47. Fraudulent Poison Warnings.
49. This Plant Its Own Refrigerator.
51. A Plant Which Digests Insects.
57. Some Potato Seed Balls.
60. Curious Potatoes Grown from Seed.
63. A Burbank Potato.
66. The Geranium's Advertisement.
70. A Geranium Pistil Unreceptive.
71. A Geranium Pistil Receptive.
73. A Carnation Ready to Give Pollen.
74. A Carnation Ready to Take Pollen.
75. A Nest of Flower Eggs-Enlarged.
79. A Pollen-Laden Bee-Enlarged.
81. A Fly-Loving Flower.
84. A Beautiful Orchid and Its Appeal.
85. The Orchid's Striking Ingenuity.
87. Waiting for the Humming Birds.
91. Why It Takes Wind to Make Corn.
95. A Nut Which Becomes a Sailboat.
101. The Devil's Claw-As It Grows
103. The Devil's Claw-Shedding Its Skin.
104. The Devil's Claw-Ready to Bite.

NOTE--Immediately following the silken fly leaves of the finished book, the autographed dedication page to the individual life member will be permanently bound in.
These dedication pages were designed and manufactured for The Society by Tiffany & Company of New York. The
lettering is embossed from copper plates, and the large initial letter is done in gold, hand-illumined. All who have
seen these dedication pages have expressed their appreciation of Tiffany's work, and Mr. Burbank was particularly
pleased with them.
These pages, each with the individual life member's name engrossed by hand and individually pen-and-ink signed by
Mr. Burbank, are now in The Society's fire-proof vault, ready to be turned over to the binders when the last
corrections are made and the finished sheets are printed.

1

ARMORED AGAINST ITS ENEMIES
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print showing the detail of spiny cactus as it grows on the desert, particularly the
typical arrangement of cactus armor; so completely does this armor protect the surface of
every slab that it is impossible to touch the slab
with even the little finger. And in addition to the
large bristling spines which fan out in every direction there are hidden behind each rosette a bundle of undeveloped spines, numbering often as
high as ten thousand to each eye. When the outward spines are cut off, these latter push themselves forward with surprising rapidity to protect
any accidental gap in the armor.

HOW THE CACTUS

GOT ITS SPINES-AND How
IT LOST THEM
A SIDELIGHT ON
THE IMPORTANCE OF ENVIRONMENT

NEARLY

every plant growing on the desert,"

it occurred to Luther Burbank one day,
"is either bitter, or poisonous, or spiny."
Where some, having made the same observation, might have seen only an interesting coincidence, Luther Burbank saw uncovered before him
a new nature-secret-the clew to an obscure but
important truth.
It was, in fact, this seemingly insignificant and
unpromising coincidence which opened up to
Luther Burbank's mind the possibility of making
the deserts of the world moist and green again
with plant life. It was this observation, and the
deductions which followed it, which led the way
to the perfection of an entirely new food and
forage plant. It was this which gave Mr. Burbank
the idea of a way to produce his spineless cactus,
[VOLUME I-CHAPTER I]

LUTHER BURBANK
a plant which already has shown its ability to
outdo alfalfa five to one, and which promises to
produce the sustenance for our cattle on what have
been the waste places of the world; so that our
ranges may be turned into gardens to produce the
vegetable sustenance for a multiplying population.
Let us look at the life story of the cactus as
it unfolded itself to Luther Burbank when he
realized the importance of the simple fact that
desert plants are usually bitter, poisonous, or
spiny.
"Here are plants," thought he, "which have the
hardiness to survive, and to thrive, and to perpetuate themselves, under conditions in which
other plants would die in a day or a month.
"Here are plants which, although there may
be not a drop of rain for a year, two years, or even
ten, still contrive to get enough moisture out of
the deep soil and out of the air, to build up a
structure which, by weight, is 92 per cent waterplants which contrive to absorb from the scorching
desert, and to protect from the withering sun,
enough moisture to make them as juicy as a
watermelon.
"Here are plants which are veritable wells of
water, growing in a land where there are no
springs, or brooks-nor even clouds to encourage
the hope of a cooling rain; here are plants which
[8]

EVERY INCH PROTECTED
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of another form of spiny cactus
which, in addition to the ingenuity of its armor
gives an interesting illustration of the fact that
away back in its history, the plant, instead of
having flat slabs, had round stalks. In this picture the three joints of the round stalk can be
clearly seen and an idea can be gained of cactus
as it grew at the period just following the disappearance of its leaves.

LUTHER BURBANK
are rich in nutriment for man and for beast, here
in the desert where the demand for food is the
most acute-and the supply of it the most scanty.
"And here they are, ruined for every useful
purpose, by the bitterness which makes them
inedible, or the poison which sickens or kills, or
the spiny armor which places their store of nutrimnent and moisture beyond reach.
"There must be some reason for that bitterness,
that poison, those spines.
"What other reason could there be than that
these are Nature's provisions for self defense?
"Here are the sage brush, with a bitterness as
irritant, almost, as the sting of a bee, the euphorbia
as poisonous as a snake, the cactus as well armored
as a porcupine-and for the same reason that
bees have stings, that snakes have fangs, that
porcupines have arrow-like spines-for self-protection from some stronger enemy which seeks
to destroy."
Self preservation comes before self sacrifice,
apparently, in plant life just as it does in human
life.
The plum trees in our orchards outdo each
other in bearing fruit to please us; the geraniums
in our dooryards compete to see which may give
us the greatest delight.
[10]

ON ENVIRONMENT
But may it not be because, for generations, we
have fostered them, and nurtured them, and cared
for them?
May it not be because we have made it easy for
them to live and to thrive?
May it not be because we have relieved them of
the responsibility of defense and reproductionthat they have rewarded our kindly care by
fruiting and blooming, not for their own selfish
ends, but for us?
No man was ever kind to a cactus; no man ever

cultivated the sage brush; no man ever cherished
the poisonous euphorbia.
Is it, then, to be wondered at, that the primal
instinct of self preservation has prevailed-that
what might have been a food plant equal to the
plum transformed itself into a wild porcupine
among plants?
That what might have been as useful to the
horse as hay changed its nature, and became bitter,
woody, inedible?
That what might have been a welcome friend
to the weary desert traveler grew up, instead, into
a poisonous enemy?
"If the bitterness, the poison and the spines
are means of self defense," thought Mr. Burbank,
"then they must be means which have been
[11]

LUTHER BURBANK
acquired. The plants were here before there were
animals to feed on or destroy them, so there must
have been a time in their history when they had
no need for such defense.
"It must be true, then, that away back in their
ancestry there were desert sage brushes which
were not bitter, desert euphorbias which were nbt
poisonous, and desert cactus plants which had
not even the suspicion of a spine. It could only
be the long continued danger of destruction
which could have produced so radical a means of
defense.
"We have, then, but to take these plants back
to a period in their history before defense had
become a problem-in order to produce an edible
sage brush, a non-poisonous euphorbia, a spineless
cactus."
How, in a dozen years, Mr. Burbank carried the
cactus back ages in its ancestry, how he proved
beyond question by planting a thousand cactus
seeds that the spiny cactus descended from a
smooth slabbed line of forefathers - how he
brought forth a new race without the suspicion
of a spine, and with a velvet skin, and how he so
re-established these old characteristics that the
result was fixed and permanent - all of these
things will be explained in due course where the
discoveries involved and the working methods
[12]

A RELIC OF PAST AGES
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print which clearly demonstrates the
correctness of Mr. Burbank's theory that cactus
was at one time spineless. This picture is a sixtime enlargement of a cactus seedling just after
it has poked its head above the ground. Below
its thorny head are to be clearly seen two perfectly
smooth leaves extending laterally. These leaves,
although rudimentary, and dropping off a few
days after the cactus is above the ground, are
vivid reminders of a former age when all cactus
plants had stalks or leaves that were as smooth as
these.

LUTHER BURBANK
employed may be made applicable, as well, to the
improvement of other plants.
It suffices, here, to say that, beginning with his
simple observation and reading the history of the
cactus from its present-day appearance, he was
able to see outlined before him the method by
which a plant producing rich food and forage has
been produced, which, more than any other plant,
promises to solve the present-day problem of
higher living costs.
"But, Mr. Burbank," asked a visitor at the Santa
Rosa Experiment Farm, "do you mean that the
cactus foresaw the coming of an enemy which was
to destroy it? Is it believable that a plant, like
a nation expecting war, could armor itself in
advance of the necessity? And if the cactus did
not know that an enemy was later to destroy it,
would it not have been destroyed by the enemy
before it had the opportunity of preparing a means
of defense?"

Let us look into the history of the plant as it
revealed itself to Mr. Burbank and see the answer
to these questions.
The likelihood is that parts of Nevada, Arizona,
Utah and Northern Mexico were once a great
inland sea-that the deserts now there were the
[14]

ON ENVIRONMENT
bed of that sea before it began its long process of
leakage or evaporation.
In these deserts, so far as is known, the North
American cactus seems to have originated.
Back in the ages before the evaporation of the
inland sea was complete, the heat and the moisture
and the chemical constituents of the sandy soil
combined to give many plants an opportunity to
thrive. Among these, no doubt, was the cactus, an
entirely different plant in appearance from the
cactus of today, no doubt, with well defined stalks
and a multitude of leaves, each as large as a
man's head.
As the heat, which had lifted away the inland
sea, began to parch its bottom, the cactus, with the
same tendency as is shown by every other plant
and every other living thing, began to adapt itself
to the changing conditions.
It gradually dropped its leaves in order to
prevent too rapid transpiration of the precious
life-supporting moisture. It sent its roots deeper
and deeper into the damp sub-stratum which the
sun had not yet reached. It thickened its stalks
into broad slabs. It lowered its main source of
life and sustenance far beneath the surface of the
ground and found it possible, thus, to persist and
to prosper.
Perhaps there were other plants in the making
[15]

THE CACTUS STILL BEARS LEAVES
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of two cactus slabs with actual
leaves starting from them. These leaves push
their way forth, only to fall away and be followed
by the spines which come out behind them. Rudimentary, as they are, they are the evidence of an
old trait which has not been entirely obliterated.
The likelihood is that the original leaves of the
cactus were as large as a man's head.

ON ENVIRONMENT
of the desert not so adaptable as the cactus,
plants which perished and of which man has no
knowledge or record.
And so, we may assume, the cactus and those
other plants which adapted themselves to the new
conditions crowded out those which were unable
to fit themselves to survive, and covered the drying
plains with their verdure.
But there came animals to the bed of this
one-time sea, attracted, perhaps, by the cactus and
its contemporaries, which offered them food of
satisfying flavor and easy access.
Of the plants which had survived the evaporation of the sea and the heat of the broiling sun,
there were many, quite likely, which failed to
survive the new danger-the onslaught of the
animals.
Species by species the vegetation of the desert
was thinned out by the elements and by the
animals; and the animals, with plant life to
feed on, multiplied themselves in ever increasing
hordes, till perhaps the cactus was but one of a
dozen plants to survive.
Then came the fight of cactus to conquer the
beasts which sought to devour it-the fight as a
family, and the fight within the family to see which
of its individuals should be found fit to persist.
Of a million cactus plants eaten to the ground
[17]

LUTHER BURBANK
by ravenously hungry antelopes, we will sayantelopes which had increased in numbers year
by year while their food supply year by year was
relentlessly dwindling -- of these million plants
gnawed down to the roots, perhaps but a thousand
or two had the stamina to throw out new leavesand try over again.
But just as in its previous experience, the
cactus had changed the character of its stalk, so
now it undertook another change-the acquisition
of an armor.
This armor at first consisted of nothing but a
soft protuberance, a modified fruit bud or leaf,
perhaps, ineffectual in warding off the onslaughts
of the hungry animals.
So, of the thousand or two left out of the
million, there may have been but a hundred which
were able to ward off destruction.
These hundred, stronger than the rest, though
eaten to the ground, were able still to send up new
leaves, and with each new crop the hairs became
stiffer and longer, the protuberances harder and
more pointed, until finally, if there were even only
one surviving representative of the race, there was
developed a cactus which was effectually armored
against its every animal enemy.
One such surviving cactus, as transformed
throughout ages and ages of time, meeting new

[18]

AS SMOOTH AS VELVET
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of four cactus leaves after Mr.
Burbank had taken the plant backward in its evolution to spinelessness. Not only have the outward spines vanished, but all of the thousands
of rudimentary spines, bundled up inside, as well,
have gone. Contrasted with its wild parent varieties, it is not only possible to handle this spineless cactus with impunity, but it is so soft and
velvety that it can safely be rubbed over the face.
Either in the form of slabs, or cut into strips, or
ground into meal, cattle instinctively prefer cactus to any other food. The elephants from a passing circus showed an immediate liking for the new
food and vigorously trumpeted for more.

LUTHER BURBANK
conditions with changes so slight as to be almost
imperceptible, but gradually accommodating itself
to the conditions under which it lived and grewone such survivor out of all the billions of
cactus plants that have ever grown, would have
been sufficient to have covered the deserts of the
world with its progeny-to have produced all of
the thorny cactus which we have in the world
today.
"You see," said Mr. Burbank, "the cactus did
not prepare in advance to meet an enemy-it
simply adapted itself to changing conditions as
those conditions arose. First, surviving the desert
drouth and the broiling sun, it threw its roots deep
so that its main source of life was below ground.
Then, attacked by an enemy which ate off the
leaves above the surface, it still had life and
resistance to try again. Ineffectually, at first, it
began to build its armor, but each discouragement
proved but the incentive to another attempt. It
is a beautiful picture: the whole cactus family,
in a death struggle for supremacy over an
enemy which threatens its very life-millions and
millions of the family perishing in the struggle,
and perhaps but one victorious survivor left to
start a new and armored race.
"It is wonderful, too; but, whenever we plant a
[20]

ON ENVIRONMENT
cactus slab today we see evidences of adaptability
more wonderful than this.
"The slab of cactus is a brilliant green as we
put it in the ground. It is flat, of an oval shape,
an inch or less in thickness. Its internal structure
is of soft, mushy fibre, mostly water.
"As that slab sends down roots, it begins to
prepare itself to bear the burden of the other slabs
which are to grow above it.
"The thin, flat shape thickens out until it is
oval, or almost round; thus presenting a curved
surface in four directions instead of in two, it
braces itself against the winds which will play
with the new slabs far above it.
"Its mushy wood fibres grow tough and
resistant; it loses much of its watery character.
"It changes in color, from green to brown; it
loses its velvety skin and develops a bark like
that of a tree.
"Within a year after planting, this cactus
slab will have changed in appearance and in
characteristics to fit itself to the new conditions
which surround it.
"It will have changed its structure to bear
weight and stand strains. It will have modified its
internal mechanism to transmit moisture instead
of to store it. It will have remodeled its outer
skin to protect itself from the ground animals from
[21]

A TRANSFORMATION SEEN IN THE MAKING
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print which shows a transformation
in the making. In this picture the change in the
bottom slabs of a cactus plant can clearly be seen
to have lost their flat oval characteristicsand to
have thickened out into a round shape, better
suited to stand the strain of carrying the heavy
slabs above. Also the green color and smooth texture of the leaf can be seen to have changed to a
woody bark, affording protection from abrasion
and rodents. The transformed slab on which this
plant is grown was as flat and smooth and oval
and green, when planted, as those which can be
seen above it. The photograph was made two
years after planting. This is simply one of countless evidences, to be found throughout all plant
life, that plants are what they are by reason of
their environment.

ON ENVIRONMENT
which, when it was a slab high up on another
cactus plant, it knew and feared no danger!"
Is it more wonderful that, unseen by us, a
plant should have adapted itself to the desert,
and, through the ages, have armored itself against
an enemy, than that, before our eyes, in a single
year, it should meet the same conditions in an
equally effective way ?
Is it more wonderful that it should grow spines
than that it should grow slabs which in turn have
the power to grow other slabs?
Is not the really wonderful thing the fact that
it grows at all?
The cactus is one of the most elastic of plantseducated up to this elasticity, perhaps, by the
hardships and battles through which its ancestry
has come.
A slip cut from a cherry tree, for example,
must be planted in carefully prepared ground of
a suitable kind, at a certain time of the year, with
regard to moisture and temperature-it must be
watched and cared for until it takes root and
begins for itself. Under continued cultivation, the
cherry tree has lost some of its ability to make its
own way.
But the cactus, having come up from a line
[23]

LUTHER BURBANK
of warriors with every hand against it, needs no
such care. Every one of the fifty or more wart-like
eyes on its every slab is competent to throw out
a root, a fruit or another slab-whichever the
occasion seems to warrant.
Lay a cactus slab on hard ground, unscratched
by a hoe, and the eyes of its under side will throw
long yellow roots downward, while the eyes on
the upper side await their opportunity, once the
slab is rooted, to throw their other slabs and their
blossoms upward.
As the tiny buds grow from the eyes, it is
impossible by sight or microscopic examination to
determine which will be roots, which will be
fruits, or which will be other slabs. It is as though
the cactus, inured by hardship, and prepared for
any emergency, waits until the very last possible
moment to settle upon the best suited means of
reproduction-as though the bud, having started,
becomes a root if it finds encouragement for roots,
or a fruit if seed seems desirable, or an upward
slab if this can be supported.
Nor does its attempt at reproduction require
much encouragement. Fifty young cactus slabs
laid on a burlap-covered wooden shelf four feet
above ground were found to have thrown long
roots down through the burlap and through the
cracks of the boards within a few days.
[24]

AFTER A YEAR IN THE DARK
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of a big cactus leaf which lay
forgotten for one year in a dark closet in Mr. Burbank's old homestead. By accident, the door of
the closet was left open for a few days, allowing
a faint light to reach it, and the slab responded
by throwing out a large but sickly looking baby
slab toward the light. During its year in the dark,
this slab, of course, had no moisture except what
was confined within itself and what it could get
from the air; and the only evidence of its deprivation is shown by the fact that at the bottom of the
slab, and in other spots, the fibre has begun to turn
to wood.

LUTHER BURBANK
A cactus plant pulled from the ground and
tied by a string to the branch of a tree remained
hanging in the air for six years and eight months.
During this time it had no source of nourishment,
and its slabs withered and turned brown. But,
planted again by sticking one of its slabs six
inches in the ground, it immediately took root,
and within a few weeks began to throw out new
blossoms and slabs.
Another detached cactus slab, long forgotten
in a closet, and after having been in the dark
for more than a year, was found to have thrown
out a sickly looking baby slab when the closet
door was left open for a few days.
The more the adaptability of the presentday cactus and its tenacious hold on life are
observed, the more easy it becomes to understand
its fight against a devouring enemy which lived
during the desert-forming age, and to see the
origin of the thorny cactus of today.
Nor is the cactus the only desert plant which
shows evidences of such a struggle.
The golden rods of the desert are more bitter
than the golden rods of the plains.
The wormwood of the desert is more bitter
even than the wormwood which grows where there
have been fewer enemies.
[26]

A TYPICAL CACTUS FLOWER
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of a beautiful cactus flower,
showing that, however much this plant offends by
the ugliness of its grim armor, it more than makes
up by the beauty of its blossom. Most cactus flowers are large, delicate, and their brilliant colorings
range from perfect whites to deep reds-from
brilliant yellows to rich purples.

LUTHER BURBANK
The yuccas, the aloes, the euphorbias, all have
counterparts in their families who, needing less
protection, show less bitterness, less poison, fewer
spines.
And even rare cactus plants from protected
localities, and those of the less edible varieties,
give evidence, by the fewness of their spines, that
their family struggle has been less intense than
the struggle of the cactus which found itself
stranded in the bed of a former inland sea.
A plant which has shown even greater adaptive
powers than the cactus is the well known algae
family.
One branch of this family furnishes an apt
illustration of the scant nourishment to which a
plant may adapt itself.
Microscopic in size, it lives its life on the upper
crust of the Arctic snow, storing up enough energy
in the summer, when the sun's rays liquify a thin
film of water on the icy surface, to sustain life in
a dormant stage during the six months night of
the northern winter.
With nothing but the moisture yielded from
the snow, and what nutriment it can gather from
the air, this plant, called the red snow plant,
multiplies and prospers to the extent that it covers
whole hillsides of snow like a blanket-covers
[28]

ON ENVIRONMENT
them so completely that the reddish color of the
plant, imparted to the snow, first gave rise to the
tales of far northern travelers as to the color of the
snowfall, and explained the apparent phenomenon
of red snow.
Another division of this family, going to the
opposite extreme, thrives in the waters of Arrowhead Sulphur Springs in California-lives its life
and reproduces itself in water so hot that eggs may
be boiled in it.
Compared with these microscopic members,
one thriving on the Arctic snows, the other in water
at the boiling point, there is still another member
of this family which has become the largest plant
in the world. This, the gigantic seaweed of the
Sargasso Sea, is taller and larger than the greatest
giant redwood which California has produced.
And so on; some of this family of the algae
grow on and in animals, some on other plants,
some on iron, some on dry rocks, some in fresh
water, and some in the salt seas.
The monkey puzzle tree, a form of which is
illustrated by a direct color photograph print,
shows an adaptability to environment as striking
as that of the cactus-although for an entirely
different purpose.
At the top of the monkey puzzle tree, so called,
[29]

THE MONKEY PUZZLE TREE
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of a splendid specimen of monkey puzzle tree. This tree is a striking example
of a plant which has become spiny for protection.
The monkey puzzle tree bears but few seeds and
protects them, with this armor, from destruction
by the monkeys. The nuts are borne at, or very
near the top, and the spines are so sharp that it
is impossible for any animal to climb the tree.
Where the cactus spines are designed to protect
the plant itself, the monkey puzzle spines are designed to protect the offspring of the plant, represented by its seed.

ON ENVIRONMENT
are borne several nuts containing the seed of the
plant.
In the case of the cactus the thorns were thrown
out to protect the plant itself from destruction, but
in the case of the monkey puzzle tree the animals
threatened not the tree itself but its offspring--its
nuts were so highly prized by the monkeys, and
their number was so few, that it was forced to take
protective measures to keep its seed out of the
reach of enemies.
From this we begin to see that each plant has
its own family individuality, its own family
personality. Some plants, in order to insure
reproduction, produce hundreds or thousands of
seeds, relying on the fact that in an over-supply
a few will likely be saved and germinated; while
other plants producing only a few seeds protect
them with hard shells or bitter coverings, or, as in
the case of the monkey puzzle tree, with sharp
spines which make access impossible.
In the deep canyons of California's mountains
there grows a member of the lily family, the
trillium.
At the bottom of these canyons there are places
where the sunshine strikes but one side. The
flowers on the shady side of the canyons are larger,
and the leaves of the plants are broader, and the
[31]

LUTHER BURBANK
bulbs are nearer the surface than those of the
plants which grow where the sun gets at them.
On the other side of the same canyons the
bulbs grow deep in the soil, and the leaves and the
blossoms transform themselves to protect their
moisture from the sun.
Which is all that the cactus did when the sea
was turned into a desert.
Along the Pacific coast from Oregon well down
into California, there grows a common wild flower
of the pipewort family.
Inland a little way, say ten or fifteen miles, the
stalk of this plant is smooth and with hardly the
suspicion of a hair. But along the shore, where
the northwest winds pick up all of the finer
particles from the beach and form a sand blast,
the plant has developed a stalk so covered with
hairs that it is as woolly almost as a sheepperfectly protected against the sand-enemy.
Which is all that the cactus did when the
antelopes came to destroy it.
Let the cactus, battle scarred and inured to
hardship, teach us our first great lesson in plant
improvement:
That our plants are what they are because
of environment; that simply by observing their
[32]

LUTHER BURBANK
structures, their tendencies, their habits, their individual peculiarities, we can read their histories
back ages and ages before there were men and
animals-read it, almost, as an open book; that
our plants have lived their lives not by quiet rote
and rule, but in a turmoil of emergency; and, just
as they have always changed with their surroundings, so now, day by day, do they continue to
change to fit themselves to new environments;
and that we, to bring forth new characteristics in
them, to transform them to meet our ideals, have
but to surround them with new environments-not
at haphazard, but along the lines of our definite
desires.

SPINELESS CACTUS IN THE PATCH
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print which conveys a perfect idea of
the density which a field of Mr. Burbank's cactus
attains. The picture is that of a patch of cactus
under four years old, some of it less than three.
Each plant shown in this picture was started simply by placing a single slab in the hard adobe soil
-a soil on which few useful plants will grow.
On the acre which this picture shows there is still
a growth of cactus, in spite of all that has been
cut off, weighing more than one million pounds.
The rapidity of cactus growth is illustratedby the
fact that a single hot day in June will add a ton in
weight to this acre cactus patch.

TWENTY-THREE POTATO SEEDS
AND

WHAT THEY TAUGHT
A

T

GLIMPSE AT

THE INFLUENCE OF HEREDITY

HE Springtime buds unfold into leaves

before our eyes-without our seeing them
unfold.

We have grown ,accustomed to

look for bare limbs in March; to find them hidden
by heavy foliage in May; and because the process
is slow and tedious, and because it goes on always,
everywhere, about us, we are apt to count it
commonplace.
Just as we can understand that the tree in our
yard, responding to its environment-to the April
showers, to the warm noons of May, to the heat
of Summer and to the final chill of Fall-has
completed a transformation in a year, so, too,
can we more easily understand the gradual transformation of the cactus in an age. So, too, can
we realize that the individual steps between the
first ineffectual hairy protuberance, and the final
[VOLUME I-CHAPTER II.]

LUTHER BURBANK
spiny armor, each a stronger attempt to respond
to environment, were so gradual as to be almost
imperceptible.
But those rudimentary, half formed leaves
which come forth from every eye of the cactus
slab before the thorns or fruits come out-those
leaves which, as if seeing that they have no useful
purpose, as if realizing that they are relics,
only, of a bygone day, drop off and die-what
environment has acted to bring them forth?
And those two smooth slabs that push out when
the tiny seedling has just poked its thorny head
above the ground-to what environment do they
respond?
How shall we account for this tendency in a
plant to jump out of its own surroundings, and
out of the surroundings of its parents, and theirs,
and theirs-and to respond to the influences which
surrounded an extinct ancestor-to take back to
the days when the desert was the moist bottom of
an evaporating sea and before the animals came
to destroy?
A group of scientists were chatting with Luther
Burbank when a chance remark on heredity led
one of them to tell this bear story.
It seemed, so the story ran, that a baby bear
[36]

ON HEREDITY
had been picked up by miners within a few days
after its birth-before its eyes had opened. The
cub, in fact, was so small that it was carried
several miles to the camp tied in the sleeve of one
of the miner's coats.
Raised to adult bearhood by these miners,
without ever having seen another bear-relieved of
the necessity of finding its own food and removed
from the wild environment of its ancestry-this
bear became as thoroughly domesticated, almost,
as an old maid's cat.
What would such a bear do if thrown on its
own resources? Would it have to begin at the
beginning to learn bear-lore?
Bears are great salmon fishers, for example.
But is this skill taught by the mother to the
baby bear-or is it a part of every bear at birth?
That was the question of interest.
One day, when the animal had arrived at
maturity, it was taken to a tiny salmon stream.
Here was a bear which had never fished for
salmon, which had not even tasted fish; a bear
which, if bears have a language, had never
received a moment of instruction in self support;
a bear which, taken before its eyes were open,
had never seen its mother, had never known an
influence save the artificial, to it, atmosphere of
the mining camp.
[37

LUTHER BURBANK
Brought to the salmon stream, however, there
was not an instant of delay; it glanced about,
located a natural point of vantage, straddled the
brook with its face down-stream, and bending
over, with upraised right paw, waited for the
salmon to come.
It did, unhesitatingly, just what any normal
wild-raised bear would have done.
With wonderful dexterity it was able to scap
the onrushing salmon out of the stream and to
throw them in an even pile on the bank with a
single motion.
As other bears would do, this domesticated
bruin stood over the stream until it had accumulated a sizable pile of the salmon on the bank.
Going to this pile, it quickly sorted over the
fish, making now two piles instead of one-with
all of the male salmon in one pile, and all the
female salmon in the other.
Then, with its sharp claw, it proceeded to split
open the female salmon and to extract the roe,
which it ate with relish. This consumed, it
finished its meal on the other meat of the fish.
Untaught, it recognized salmon as food; distinguished males from females; knew the roe as
a delicacy.
Unpracticed, it knew, instantly, just how to fish
for salmon and how to find the roe.
[38]

TWO KINDS OF LEAVES ON A SINGLE PLANT
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print showing how the eucalyptus, although transformed from an herb to a tree, still
retains leaf-formations inherited from early ancestry.

LUTHER BURBANK
"Right here on this experiment farm," spoke
up Mr. Burbank, "you might find hundreds of
evidences of heredity more striking than thatmore striking because they are the evidences of
heredity in plant life, instead of in animal life.
"Right here," said he, "you will find plants
which show tendencies unquestionably inherited
from a line of ancestry going back perhaps ten
thousand years or more-tendencies, some of
them, which now seem strangely out of place
because the conditions which gave rise to them
in their ancestors no longer exist; tendencies like
those of the cactus and the blackberry to protect
themselves from wild beasts when wild beasts are
no longer an enemy; tendencies to deck themselves
in colors designed to attract the insects of a
forgotten age-insects which, perhaps, no man has
ever seen.
"Where some incredulity might be expressed
as to whether the bear had not actually been taught
to fish for salmon, or seen another bear perform
the act, there can be no such question in the case
of heredity in plants.
"Here," said he, as a bed of sweet peas was
approached, "is a plant which has inherited the
climbing, twining tendency.
"That is an evidence that, at some time away
back in its history, this plant has likely been

[40]

ON HEREDITY
crowded for room. Plants which grow high do so
usually because, at some stage in their existence,
they have had to grow high to get the sun and the
air which they need. Low-lying plants, like the
pumpkin for example, give evidence that they have
always enjoyed plenty of space in which to spread
out.
"The bear of your story may have slipped
away, unknown to its keepers, and seen another
bear fish for salmon; but if these tendencies and
traits, and, if the ability to perform the feats
necessary for existence are not passed down from
mother to son-if they do not come down through
the line of ancestry, if all of the old environments
of the past have not accumulated into transmissible heredity, what enables that sweet pea to
twine around the stake?"
"A closer observation of the sweet pea will
show us that its tendrils are really modified leaves,
produced, like the spines of the cactus, by ages of
environment which, added up, combine to make
heredity; and that their actual sensitiveness to
touch is so highly developed that they almost
instantly encircle and hold fast to any suitable
support within their reach.
"It would be interesting to take a moving
picture of a sweet pea as it grows, as similar
[41]

HEREDITY SHOWS AS COLOR STREAKS
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of two dahlias which give striking evidences of the effect of heredity. Both of
these dahlias are crosses and each shows distinctly the effect of the cross. The upper dahlia
has six lemon yellow petals without marking or
discoloration of any kind, one violet petal, solid
in color, and one lemon yellow petal with a violet
streak. The other dahlia shown in this photograph has six petals which are solid brick-red,
and two with bright yellow streaks in them.

ON HEREDITY
motion pictures have been taken; making our
separate snap shots one every three minutes
instead of fifteen or sixteen to the second, so that
the reel would cover a period of fifteen days; then,
with a fifteen day history recorded on our film, to
run it through the projecting lantern at the rate
of fifteen or sixteen pictures to the second, thus
showing in seven or eight minutes the motions
of growth which actually took fifteen days to
accomplish; on the screen before us, with quick,
darting motions, we should see the sweet pea
wriggle and writhe and squirm-we should see it
wave its tendrils around in the air, feeling out
every inch within its reach for possible supports
on which to twine.
"We should see, by condensing half a month
of its life into an eight minute reel, that this sweet
pea has inherited an actual intelligence-slow in
its operation, but positive, certain-an inherited
intelligence which would be surprising, even, in
an animal."
"All through plant life we find these undeniable
evidences of heredity.
"I have here, for example, two tiny seedlings
which look almost alike. They are distantly
related. One is the acacia and the other the
sensitive plant.
[43]

THE SENSITIVE PLANT UNTOUCHED
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of the sensitive plant and its
cousin the acacia. Although these plants are
clearly related, and resemble each other strikingly, one has the sensitive shrinking tendency,
while the other, through its lack of it, testifies to
an entirely different heredity.

THE SAME PLANT TWO SECONDS LATER
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of the same plants shown opposite, after being touched. In this print it is seen
that the sensitive plant folds its leaves up with
wonderful precision and rapidity, and thus makes
itself as inconspicuous as possible to its approaching enemy. The actual photograph was snapped
less than two seconds after the plant had been
touched, but in that brief time it can be seen that
the transformation was complete, where the
acacia, with a different heredity, shows no response to being touched.

LUTHER BURBANK
"Much as these plants look alike, they bear
witness to the fact that they have within them two
entirely different strains of heredity.
"The acacia will permit us to touch it and
handle it without showing signs of disturbance.
"But its cousin, in the same soil, and of the
same size, immediately folds up its leaves, in self
protection, at the slightest touch.
"From this we read the fact that one branch
of this family has found it necessary to perfect a
form of self defense, while the other has had no
such experience in its heredity."
"I have been much interested lately in an
experiment with common clover-in producing
clover leaves with wonderful markings.
"The only way in which I can account for the
markings with which some clover leaves will
bedeck themselves is that, in the heredity of the
plant, there was a time when, not being poisonous
itself, it tried to simulate the appearance of some
poisonous plant, to protect itself from insects.
"At first thought, it might require a stretch of
the imagination to understand how this could
be-yet a closer inquiry shows that the process
was as gradual and as surely progressive as the
transformation of the cactus.
"In clover, as in other plants, there has always
[46]

FRAUDULENT POISON WARNINGS
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of some clover leaves which
show a strange tendency. These leaves have very
pronounced black and white markings, and it is
Mr. Burbank's belief that these represent an attempt on the part of the clover plant to simulate
a poisonous look as a means of self-protection.
Although the tendency to bedeck themselves with
these warning streaks and blotches of color is
very strong, yet in all his experiments Mr. Burbank has not found a single clover plant which
was actually poisonous.

LUTHER BURBANK
been variation--some few individual clover plants
have always had the white and black markings.
"At some time in the history of the plant those
without the markings have been destroyed, and so,
responding to this new environment, the markings
became more and more pronounced until now we
have not only white triangular markings, but ugly
black splotches going clear through the leaf.
"From these markings we can read the history
of the clover-most of the family having plain
leaves inherited from an ancestry which found no
need to protect itself from an enemy-with an
occasional outcropping of poisonous-locking color
splotches-the inheritance of scattering environments in which self protection was necessary."
"Or we might consider the ice-plant, so called,
which protects itself from the heat of the sun by
surrounding itself with tiny water drops which
have the appearance and serve the same purpose
as icicles; or the wild lettuce, known sometimes
as the compass plant, which turns its leaves north
and south so that only their edges are reached
by the sun; or any of a number of other strange
protective measures which plants have perfectedall manifestations which would be impossible if
heredity were not an always present, controlling
influence.
[48]

THIS PLANT ITS OWN REFRIGERATOR
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of an ice plant showing what
appear to be tiny icicles all over its stems and
leaves. These icicles, in fact, are stored up
moisture which the plant saves up against the
heat of the sun. The need for this extra moisture
is not apparent where this plant now grows, and
it is reasoned, therefore, that the plant has been
stranded at some time or other in its history in
some unusually hot, dry climate.

LUTHER BURBANK
"We have, too, in many parts of the country
plants which have learned to snare and trap
insects and even animals, and to digest them and
to live on them.
"Among these carnivorous plants are the common pitcher plants, and the Venus fly trap.
"The pitcher plants, instead of belonging only
to one family, are to be found in a number of
different families, thus showing that environment
has produced a similar strain of heredity in
separate kinds of plants which are not kin to
each other.
"One of the pitcher plants which grows abundantly in the moist places of the Sierras and in
northern California even catches frogs, small
animals and birds. The plant seems especially
devised to lure the animals into its pitcher. Above
the pitcher is a little lattice and an opening, like a
window, through which the light can shine. The
insects and the animals see a haven from the sun
and rain, and as they go in, there are little fingers
on the plant which push them along and keep
them from coming back.
"Once securely in the trap, the plant secretes a
digestive juice, like our own gastric juice, and
absorbs the animal life as food.
"In these traps it is common to find all kinds
of insects-including the undigested wings and
[50]

A PLANT WHICH DIGESTS INSECTS
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of the curious pitcher plant
growing in California, which lures the insects to
its stomach and digests them with its own supply
of hydrochloric acid. This plant was secured for
The Society in the Sierra Nevada mountains, and
shows not only the ingenious structure, but also
some insects in the process of digestion.

LUTHER BURBANK
legs of beetles and grasshoppers and the bones of
toads and frogs.
"Is this not a more wonderful manifestation of
old environment, recorded within a plant in the
form of heredity, than even that of a bear which
seemed to have inherited the intelligence and skill
to fish ?"
"To my mind," said one of the scientists, "the
by-product of your work is fully as interesting as
the work itself-the viewpoint which you get on
the forces which control life is of even greater
attraction to me than the wonderful productions
which you have coaxed from the soil."
"A by-product, no," said Mr. Burbank; "these
things are a vital part of the day's work. Heredity
is more a factor in plant improvement than
hoes or rakes; a knowledge of the battle of the
tendencies within a plant is the very basis of all
plant improvement. It is not, as you seem to think,
that the work of plant improvement brings with
it, incidentally, a knowledge of those forces. It
is the knowledge of those forces, rather, which
makes plant improvement possible."
"There are really, after all, only two main
influences which enter into the make-up of lifeonly two influences which we need to direct, in
[52]

ON HEREDITY
order to change and control the characteristics of
any individual growing thing.
"The first of these is environment.
"The rains, the snows, the fogs, the drouthsthe heat, the cold-the winds, the change in
temperature between night and day-the soil, the
location in shade or sun-competition for food,
light, air-the neighbors, whether they be plant
neighbors, or animal neighbors, or human neighbors-all of these, and a thousand other factors
which could be thought of, are the elements of
environment-some pulling the plant one way and
some another, but each with its definite, though
sometimes hardly noticeable, influence on the
individual plant.
"And the second is heredity:
"Which is the sum of all of the environments
of a complex ancestry-back to the beginning."
"Just as with the bear, if the story be true, so
in plant life. In every seed that is produced there
are stored away the tendencies of centuries and
centuries of ancestry. The seed is but a bundle of
tendencies.
"When these tendencies have been nicely
balanced by a long continuation of unchanging
environment, the offspring is likely to resemble the
parent.
[53]

LUTHER BURBANK
"But when, through a change of environment,
that balance is disturbed, no man can predict the
outcome.
"So when a seed is planted, no man can be sure
whether the twentieth century tendencies will
predominate; or whether long forgotten tendencies
may suddenly spring into prominence and carry
the plant back to a bygone age."
"How can seeds store up the tendencies of their
ancestry?" some one asked Mr. Burbank.
"How can your mind store up the impressions
which it receives?" he asked in reply.
Hidden away in the twists and turns of our own
brains, needing but the right conditions to call
them forth with vividness, there are hundreds of
thousands, perhaps millions of impressions which
have been registered there day by day.
The first childhood's scare on learning of the
presence of burglars in the house may make us
supersensitive to night noises in middle age.
The indelible recollection of a mother's love
and tenderness may arise, after forty years, to
choke down some harsh word which we are about
to utter.
The combined impressions of a thousand experiences with other human beings seem to blend
[54]

ON HEREDITY
together to help us form our judgment of a single
human being with whom we are about to deal.
As the weeks have rolled into months, and as the
months have melted into years, new impressions
have arisen to crowd out the old, stronger impressions have supplanted the weak, bigger impressions
have taken the place of lesser ones-but the old
impressions are always there-always blending
themselves into our judgments, our ambitions, our
desires, our ideals-always ready and waiting,
apparently, to single themselves out and appear
before us brilliantly whenever the proper combination of conditions arises.
So, too, with the seed.
Every drouth that has caused hardship to its
ancestors is recorded as a tendency in that seed.
Every favoring condition which has brought a
forbear to greater productiveness is there as a
tendency in that seed.
Every frost, every rain, every rise of the
morning sun has left its imprint in the line of
ancestry and helped to mold tendencies to be
passed from plant to plant.
Beneath the wooden looking, hard sheathed
covering of the seed, there is confined a bundle of
tendencies-an infinite bundle-and nothing more.
One tendency stronger than another perhapsa good tendency suppressing a bad tendency-or

[55]

LUTHER BURBANK
the other way; tendencies inherited from immediate parents, tendencies coming down from wild
ancestry, tendencies originating from the influences
of twenty centuries or more ago-tendencies which
are latent, awaiting only the right combination
of conditions to bring them to life; all of the
tendencies of a complex ancestry-some lulled to
sleep perhaps, but none obliterated entirely; that
is a seed.
"The whole life history of a plant," said Mr.
Burbank, "is stored away in its seeds.
"If we plant enough of the seeds, in enough
different environments, we are sure to have that
life history with all of its variations, all of its
hardships, all of its improvements and retrogressions, uncovered before us."
Which brings us to the boyhood lesson which
Luther Burbank learned.
Edison spilled chemicals on the floor of a
baggage car-lost his job as train-boy-and made
electricity his vocation instead of his avocation.
Luther Burbank found a seed-ball on one of
the plants of his mother's potato patch.
Who knows what little thing will change a
career? Or what accident will transform an ideal?
[56]

SOME POTATO SEED BALLS
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photographprint of several potato seed balls, such
as Luther Burbank found. The potato has become
so accustomed to being reproduced by division of
its tuber that seed balls are now a great rarity.
And, while the tuber produces potatoes absolutely
true to type, the seed balls, the rarer they become,
seem, more and more, to lose all connection with
the present, and to hark back to long-forgotten
traits in old heredity.

LUTHER BURBANK
Or what triviality, out of the ordinary, will lead
to the discovery of a new truth?
The potato seed-ball was a little thing, an
accident almost, a triviality, at least, so any practical farmer would have said.
Away back in the history of the potato, when
it had to depend upon its seed for reproduction,
every healthy potato plant bore one or more.
But years of cultivation have removed from
the potato the necessity of bearing seeds for
the preservation of its race. The potato plant, so
certain, now, to reproduce itself through subdivision of its bulb or tuber-so reliant on man for
its propagation-has little use for the seed upon
which its ancestors depended for perpetuation
before men relieved it of this burden.
So the average potato grower, knowing that
next year's crop depends only on this year's
tubers-and being more anxious, alas, to keep his
crop at a fixed standard than to improve it-might
see the occasional seed-ball without knowing its
meaning-or realizing its possibilities.
Luther Burbank saw the seed-ball on his
mother's potato patch. If he did not realize its
possibilities, at least he scented an adventure.
And who can say in advance where adventure
-any adventure-will lead?
[58]

ON HEREDITY
How Mr. Burbank lost the precious potato
seed-ball, how he found it again, and then nearly
spoiled the outcome by not knowing how to plant
the seed-and the practical lessons in method
which he learned-these are things which will be
explained at length in the proper place.
The interesting fact to be noted here, however,
is that, from this seed-ball, he produced twentythree new potato plants.
Each of these plants yielded its own interesting
individual variations-its own interpretation of
long forgotten heredity.
One, a beautiful, long potato, decayed almost
as soon as dug; another was red-skinned with
white eyes; several had eyes so deep that they
were unfit for use; all varied widely.
The twenty-three, in fact, represented as many
different stages in the history of the potato family;
and, having no present-day environment to hold
them in balance, all were unlike any potato which
had ever been cultivated.
Among the number, though, was one tuber
better than the rest-and better than any potato
which Luther Burbank had ever seen. That tuber
was the parent of the almost universally grown
Burbank potato of today.
When Luther Burbank selected from his
twenty-three potato seedlings what eventually was
[59]

CURIOUS POTATOES GROWN FROM SEED
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print showing a group of different
kinds of potatoes produced from seed. From this
it is possible to gain a clear idea of the remarkable variations which potato seeds now produce.

ON HEREDITY
to become the parent of a new race of potatoes,
it may be said that he was then fairly started on
his successful career of plant improvement.
Had he rested on his honors and been satisfied
with this single new production, the world would
always have been his debtor.
For up to that time the potatoes of the world
were small, more or less uncertain of bearing, and
of mediocre yield. The older varieties-disregarding the fact that their yield was but one-fourth of
the present production, would find no buyers in
our markets.
With the same work-indeed with less-both
the pioneer who grew potatoes for his own
sustenance and the potato specialist who produced
his crop on a manufacturing basis, were able to
quadruple their output-to make four measures
of food-four measures of profit-grow where but
one had grown before.
And today, when more pounds of potatoes are
grown than of any other food crop of the world,
the increase made in a single year's crop-the increase gained without any corresponding increase
in capital invested or cost of production-amounts
to an astounding sum in the millions.
Possibly at no other time in the history of the
nation could the Burbank potato have come more
opportunely.
-611

LUTHER BURBANK
These were the days when Pittsburg was a far
western city, and when the great territory beyond
was the home of the pioneer.
The potato is a vegetable designed peculiarly
for the pioneer.
It requires no great preparation either for
planting or harvesting. It grows rapidly on the
rich new soil turned over by the settler; a little
cultivation insures its growth; when ripened it
may lie in the ground and be used as needed;
when the fall frosts come it can easily be banked
in a pit for winter use.
Little care; small outlay; easy preparation for
food; those make the potato the first crop to be
grown when the settler first locates his new home.
Trace now the influence which this one success
had upon a growing nation. It was in 1871. It was
a time when the line between success and failurebetween starvation and comfortable plenty-was
drawn so finely for the pioneer that even the
slightest help was of a value out of proportion to
its intrinsic worth.
A crop failure or shortage, in those reconstruction days after the war, meant a set-back that
would take years to overcome, for the pioneer's
only source of supply, usually, was his own crop.
Any increase, therefore, in Nature's productssuch as the potato-in the days of the pioneer,
[62]

A BURBANK POTATO
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph priint showing a perfect Burbank
potato which illustrates the improvement in size,
and shape, which Luther Burbank wrought
through skillful selection from the variations
which his twenty-three potato seeds bore him.

LUTHER BURBANK
signified more to the world than it ever has since.
Multiplying a potato yield by four, then, meant
more than were such a yield multiplied by ten, or
even by a hundred, now.
But the greatest value which the Burbank
potato gave to the world was not in the increase in
its potato crop; the greatest service it rendered
was not even the seventeen-million-dollar-a-year
addition to America's farm incomes which this
potato has been estimated to have wrought.
The greatest value it gave-the greatest service
it performed-was to turn Luther Burbank into
a new line of invention-into a line in which,
because it is so basic and so vast, even a slight
improvement means a fortune to the world of
consumers-and the perfection of a new food or
forage plant untold billions in added wealth.
It was the potato seed-ball, found by Luther
Burbank, the boy, which gave the world Luther
Burbank, the man.
It was his success with the potato which put in
his heart the courage to forswear the certainty of
farming for the ups and downs of an inventor's
life; and it was the lesson in heredity which it
taught that placed him on the trail of Great
Achievement.

[64]

ON HEREDITY
Plant potato eyes, and you get potatoes like
the parents-improving, or retrograding, a little,
according to the present environment in which
they grow.
But plant potato seeds, and you tap a mine of
heredity, infinite in its uncertainty, but infinite,
too, in its possibility.
That was the boyhood lesson which Luther
Burbank learned.
We shall see, now, how he applied it to other
plants-how he built on it and expanded it-and
how it became the basis of more than 100,000 later
experiments in plant life.

THE GERANIUM'S ADVERTISEMENT
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of a bouquet of geraniums, such
as might be found in any American dooryardto illustrate the ingenious reproductive arrangement which is later explained in text and picture.

No Two LIVING THINGS
EXACTLY ALIKE
INFINITE INGENUITY
THE PRICE OF VARIATION

W

HERE do the flowers get their colors?"
asked a visitor of Mr. Burbank one
day.
"From the bees, and the butterflies, and the
birds," was the reply. "And from us."
Let us pick up a geranium, such as might be
found in any dooryard in America, and see what
Mr. Burbank meant.
If we were to strip off its five brilliant petals
soon after they have opened, and slice the base of
the blossom in half, we should find ourselves
looking into a tiny nest of geranium eggs-round,
white, moist, mushy eggs with a soft skinny
covering for shells.
Carefully packed in a pulpy formation, these
eggs, we should observe, are incased in a well
protected nest, longer than its breadth, oval, except
[VOLUME I-CHAPTER III]

LUTHER BURBANK
that its top extends upward in the form of a single

tiny stalk.
Surrounding this neatly packed nest of geranium 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 cross-wise bundles, nicely balanced,
of beautiful golden-orange pollen-dust, loosely
held in half-bursted 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 flour.
But let us combine one of those eggs with a
grain of that pollen, and three days in the soil will
show us that we have produced a living, growing
[68]

ON VARIATION
thing-a new geranium plant, with an individuality, a personality, of its own-an infant geranium,
which we for the first time have brought into being
-,a thing which has never lived before, yet which
has within it all of the tendencies inherited from
ages of ancestry-tendencies good and tendencies
bad, which wait only on environment to determine
which shall predominate.
By the simple combination of the pollen and
the egg we have produced an entirely new plant,
which may, if we will it, become the founder of
a whole race of new and better geraniums.
How shall we go about it to make a combination,
such as this, between the pollen-dust and the seedlike egg so snugly stowed away within its nest?
Let us examine that central stalk inside the
double guard of pollen-beariing stamens and we
shall have the answer.
As the stamens fall away we begin to see a
transformation in the stalk. Its upper end, which
at first seemed single, now shows a tendency to
divide into five curling tendrils-moist and sticky.
Though we may plant pollen in the ground
without result, we have but to place it on one of
these sticky tendrils as they curl from the end of
that central pistil-stalk to start an immediate and
rapid growth.
[69]

A GERANIUM PISTIL UNRECEPTIVE
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photographprint, greatly enlarged, of the stamens
of a geranium, as they cluster tightly around the
pistil at the time their pollen is ready for the
entering insect. This photograph shows clearly
that it would be impossible to fertilize this flower
while there is still pollen in the anthers.

A GERANIUM PISTIL RECEPTIVE
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print, greatly enlarged, showing the
pistil of a geranium ready for pollenation. In this
plant it can be seen that the stamens have separated and withered away, and that the pistil,
instead of being one straight stalk, has spread its
end into five fan-like sticky lobes. In this photograph print the pollen grains on the sticky surface
can be clearly seen-an evidence of work which
the visiting insects have already done.

LUTHER BURBANK
Once planted there, the pollen grain begins to
throw out a downward shoot, into and through
the pistil-stalk itself-forming itself into a tube
which, extending and extending, finally taps the
egg chamber below and makes possible a union
between the nucleus of that pollen grain and the
egg below which awaits its coming.
So, to produce a new geranium we have but
to dust the grains of pollen upon the sticky stigma
of that central pistil-stalk; and when the flower
has withered away, its duty done, we shall find
within the egg chamber a package of fertile
geranium seed ready for planting.
But there arises, now, a difficulty. While those
little packages of pollen-dust are there, the central
pistil-stalk inside keeps shut up tight, and it has
no sticky surface on which to dust the pollen.
And if we search for another blossom which
shows an open, sticky pistil, we shall find that the
pollen packages which once surrounded it have
gone.
To make our combination between the pollen
grains and the egg-like seeds, therefore, we find
it necessary to search first for one blossom which
is in its pollen-bearing stage, and then for another
blossom which has passed this point and shows
a receptive sticky stigma-we are forced to make
[72]

A CARNATION READY TO GIVE POLLEN
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of the reproductive mechanism
of a carnation, showing how the pistil keeps itself
closed while the pollen of its own blossom is ready
for distribution.

A CARNATION READY TO TAKE POLLEN
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of a carnation, showing how the
pistil spreads itself when it becomes receptive,
and so sharp is the photograph that the microscopic hairs on the sticky inside surface can be
clearly distinguished.

A NEST OF FLOWER EGGS-ENLARGED
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of a carnation's egg nest cut
open. This remarkable photograph clearly shows
the pistil above, and the eggs, or immature seeds,
within the nest.

LUTHER BURBANK
the combination between the two, instead of
between the pollen grains and the eggs of a single
blossom.
Which is exactly what the Mother Geranium
intended we should do.
If the stigma of a blossom were at its receptive
stage when the pollen packages around it burst
open, there would, likely, be combined in the seeds
of its egg chamber below, only the characteristics
of one parent plant-only the tendencies of a
single line of ancestry.
The geraniums growing from those seeds would
be so like in their tendencies of heredity that they
would differ, individually, only as their individual
environments differed.
But when those eggs have brought to them
the pollen from another plant, there are, confined
within them, the tendencies and characteristics of
two complex lines of ancestry; so that the plants
into which they grow will be encouraged into
variation and individuality, not as a result of
environment alone, but as a result of the countless
tendencies inherited from two separate lines of
parentage.
What a scheme for pitting the old tendencies of
heredity against the new tendencies of environ[76]

ON VARIATION
ment-what an infinite possibility of combinations
this opens up!
Truly of a million geranium blossoms no two
could be exactly alike-nor any two of their five
million petals-nor any two of their ten million
stamens-nor any two of their hundred million
honey glands-nor any two of their billion pollen
granules!
What we have seen in the geranium-those
seed-like eggs, the sticky stigma and that microscopic pollen-dust, we should see in some form or
other in every plant that grows.
The act which we might have performed to
produce a new geranium plant-the combination
of one of those seeds with some of that pollenis going on about us always, everywhere-with the
bees, and the butterflies, and the birds, and the
winds, and a score of other agencies acting to
effect those combinations.
Which is the reason for the candy factory at the
bottom of every geranium's little central well. And
for those brilliant petals, and that delicate scent,
and the picket arrangement of the stamen-stalks,
and the cross-wise poise of their pollen-bearing
anthers, and the central pistil-stalk which rises
upward from the egg nest-and everything that is
[77]

LUTHER BURBANK
beautiful and lovely in the bloom of that geranium
-and the geranium itself.
Here is a plant, the geranium, so anxious to
produce variations in its offspring that it has lost
the power of fertilizing its own eggs and risked
its whole posterity upon the co-operation of a
neighboring plant.
It has no power of locomotion-no ability to
get about from place to place in search for pollen
for its eggs or for eggs in need of its pollen;
nor has its neighbor; so they call in an outside
messenger of reproduction-the bee.
The geranium makes its honey at the bottom
of its blossom. It places movable packages of
pollen-dust balanced on springy stamens in such
a way that, to reach the sweets, the pollen hedge
must be broken through. It keeps its egg chamber
closed and its pistil unreceptive while the pollendust is there, and as if to advertise its hidden
sweets to the nectar loving bees, it throws out
shapely petals of brilliant hue and exudes a
charming scent.
And thus, the bees, attracted from afar, crowding into the tiny wells to get their sweets, become
besmeared with pollen-dust as they enter a pollen
bearing bloom-and leave a load of pollen-dust
wherever they find a receptive stigma.
[78]

A POLLEN-LADEN BEE-ENLARGED
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print, greatly enlarged, of a bee,
caught just after leaving a cactus blossom. This
print conveys a vivid impression of the way a
bee gathers and carries pollen. In this picture,
also, can be seen the two bundles of pollen bread
which the bees gather to take home for their own
use.

LUTHER BURBANK
Where did the geranium get its color?
"From the bees," said Mr. Burbank.
Just as the cactus covered itself with spines
until it had built up an effective armor, in the same
way the geranium, by easy stages, has worked out
a color scheme to attract the bees upon which it
depends to effect its reproduction.
In Mr. Burbank's yard there grows, as this is
written, a Chinese lily whose color and whose
scent reveal a different history.
Unlike most common flowers which advertise
to bees and birds and butterflies, this lily sends its
message to the flies.
Flies feed on carrion. The nectar of clover is
not to their liking and the brilliant colors of our
garden flowers fail to attract them. Our refuse
is their food, and they are guided to it by colors
and scents which are offensive to us.
So this Chinese carrion lily, as it has been
named-stranded at some time in its history,
perhaps, in some place where flies were its only
available messengers of reproduction, or blooming
at a period when other means were not within its
reach-has bedecked its single petal with a rich
and mottled purple-in color and in texture
resembling from a distance the color and texture
of a decaying piece of liver.
[80]

A FLY-LOVING FLOWER
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photographprint of a Chinese dragon lily-a wonderful purple flower which by its color and its
odor advertises to the flies in order that its reproduction may be effected. So foul is the smell of
this plant, and so much does its single petal resemble decaying meat, that on Mr. Burbank's experiment farm it has been seen to attract buzzards to
within twenty feet, when they discovered the
deception and flew away as if in disgust.

LUTHER BURBANK
Just as the geranium supplements its advertisement in color with an advertisement in scent, so,
too, the carrion lily has developed an individual
odor-appeal, decidedly like that of meat too long
exposed to the sun.
So obnoxious and so penetrating is the odor
of this flower that each year it has been found
necessary to cut down the plant shortly after it
has bloomed.
And so truly has it achieved its ideal that even
the buzzards, carrion birds that they are, attracted
by its color, its texture and its smell, have
descended in ever narrowing circles-only to fly
away in disgust when they found they had been
lured by a flower.
Where the geranium finds it satisfactory merely
to block the entrance to its honey store with an
array of pollen bundles which must be pushed
aside by the entering insect, the Chinese lily makes
doubly sure of pollenation by means of a still more
ingenious device.
The fly, attracted by the color of the petal and
guided by the hidden odor at the base of the flower,
lights on the sturdy pistil and uses it as a ladder
for descent. The opening around the pistil is just
large enough to afford a comfortable passage way;
but once within the well, the petal closes in and
[82]

ON VARIATION
snugly hugs the pistil, so that the fly, buzzing about
in the chamber below, becomes thoroughly covered
with the pollen-dust.
This done, the lily slowly unfolds and permits
the pollen laden insect to escape.
Many other flowers show equal or greater
ingenuity.
In some varieties of the sage, the pollen-bearing stamens actually descend and quickly rub the
yellow dust on either side of the insect, after which
they fall back into their former position above the
nectar cells.
Most of the orchids, too, show an unusual
ingenuity.
One species bears its pollen in small bundles,
the base of each bundle being a sticky disc. The
structural arrangement of the flower is such that
the insect cannot secure its nectar without carrying
away at least one of the bundles. A pollen bundle
glues itself to the head of the insect and curves
upward like a horn.
As soon as the insect has withdrawn from the
flower, this pollen horn bends downward in front
of the insect, close to its head, so that when the
next flower is entered the dust can hardly fail to
reach a receptive portion of the pistil.
In this orchid there is but a single receptive
[83]

A BEAUTIFUL ORCHID AND ITS APPEAL
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of an orchid, showing not only
the wonderful hues and tints of its petals, but
the ingenious arrangement of its pistil and pollen
bags as well.

THE ORCHID'S STRIKING INGENUITY
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of the pistil and one petal of
the orchid shown opposite, which gives the detail
of its reproductive ingenuity with striking clearness, showing not only the pollen bundles and the
sticky stigma, but also the color guide marks on
the petal which lead the insect unfailingly to the
pollen.

LUTHER BURBANK
stigma and the pollen bundles are separate and
single, too; but in another orchid which has two
receptive stigmas, the pollen bundles are in doublets, held together with a strap.
Thus the insect visiting this second orchid
carries away two pollen bundles on its forehead,
each so nicely placed that their dust will reach
both sticky stigmas of the next flower entered.
Similarly, the pollen of the milkweed is stored
in two little handbags, connected by a strap. When
the bee visits the flower its feet become entangled
in this strap and when it leaves it carries both bags
with it.
And so, throughout the whole range of plant
life, each fresh investigation would show a new
display of ingenuity-infinite ingenuity directed
toward the single end of combining the tendencies
of two lines of heredity-so that the offspring may
be different from and better than the parent.
We should see that there are those flowers
which bloom only in the night. Flowers which, as
if, having tried to perfect a lure for the insects of
the day, and having failed, have reversed the order
of things and send forth blossoms of white or
yellow-luminous colors always-to attract the
moths that fly after the sun goes down.
We should find many interesting half hours
[86]

WAITING FOR THE HUMMING BIRDS
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of nasturtiums seen from different angles, showing how these common dooryard
flowers are designed to attract humming birds, or
other birds, and why bees and butterflies can not
act as their messengers of pollenation.

LUTHER BURBANK
of wonder contemplating such flowers as the
honeysuckle, the nasturtium and many of the
lilies-which have taken special precaution to
place their nectar in long, horn-like tubes, out of
the reach of insects, so that only the birds may
become their messengers of reproduction.
We should see the pathos of those flowers
which advertise for insects that rarely come. The
barberry, for example, which can be pollenated
only during the bright hours of a cloudless day,
and during a time so short that there is little
chance of pollen being brought by insects from
other blossoms. Each barberry blossom, ready
for the insect if it should come, but as if expecting
disappointment, makes sure of self-perpetuation,
if not of self-improvement, by jabbing its pollen
laden anthers on its own stigma with a motion as
positive and as accurate as the jump of a cat.
Or the fennel flower of France, in which the
several pistils bend over and take pollen from the
stamens around them and straighten up again.
Or the flowers of the nettle, in which the
stamens increase their height with a sudden
spring-like action, showering the pollen up over
the receptive stigma.
We should observe that wheat and some of the
other grains, as though discouraged by centuries
and centuries of failure to secure variation, had
[88]

ON VARIATION
settled down to the steady task of repioducing
their kind exactly as it is, depending only on
individual environment for individuality, and
ensuring reproduction by self-pollenation.
We should see plants in all stages of their
attempts to keep their kind on the upward trend,
we should see a range of ingenuity so great that
no man, no matter how many of his days have
been devoted to the study of plants and their ways,
can ever become dulled to its wonders.
"I bought some extremely expensive seed corn
several years back," complained a Santa Rosa
farmer. "But, just as I expected, it ran down.
The first year's corn was fine, and so was the
second; but now it has gone clear back to ordinary
corn. This plant improvement doesn't pay."
"Do you know how corn reproduces itself?"
asked Mr. Burbank.
"Do you realize that if you plant good corn on
one side of a fence, and inferior corn on the other,
the corn cannot see the fence?
"Would you expect that a cross between a race
horse and some family Dobbins would produce a
line of racers?
"You separate your good corn from your poor,
and keep it by itself, and you will find that it does
not run down, but even gradually improves."
[89]

LUTHER BURBANK
Every farmer knows that corn must be planted
in large quantities close together-that a single
kernel of corn, planted in one corner of a lot,
apart from other growing corn, would be nonproductive.
Yet how many of those who depend upon corn
for their living know the reason for this?
The geranium, with its nectar, its scent, its
color and its structural arrangement, has built
up a partnership with the bee to perform its
pollenation.
While corn, with no flower, no honey, no
brilliant reds, no scent, has developed an equally
effective plan of making the breezes act as its
messenger of reproduction.
Here is a plant, tall and supple, that responds
with graceful movements to the slightest breath of
air. At its top it holds a bunch of pollen-laden
tassels-swaying tassels which, with each backward and forward movement, discharge their tiny
pollen grains in clouds, which slowly settle to the
ground.
Below, on the stalk of the plant, are the ears of
corn, containing row after row of the egg-kernels,
needing but combination with pollen from above
to become, each, a seed capable of starting another
corn plant on its life.

[90]

IT TAKES

WIND TO MAKE CORN

In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of corn pollenated and unpollenated. A perfect ear of corn which was allowed
to take the natural course is shown; and beside
it is shown the result when a paper bag was tied
over another ear. This paper bag prevented the
pollen from lighting upon the silken ducts, and
the result was that no kernels were formed.

LUTHER BURBANK
Just as the eggs of the geranium were housed in
a protective covering, so, too, the corn eggs are
sheathed in protective husks. And just as a tiny
stalk protruded from the egg chamber of the
geranium, so, too, does the silk which protrudes
from the end of the husk serve the same purpose
for the corn seed.
Tear the husks from an ear of corn, and it will
be seen that each strand of the protruding silk
goes back to an individual kernel on the ear.
That, between the rows of kernels, like electric
wires in a conduit, each strand of the common
bundle of silk protruding leads back to its separate
starting place.
To combine the characters of two parent corn
plants, all that is necessary is to dust the pollen
from the tassel of one on the silken ducts of the
ear of another.
And the breezes, as they swish a waving field
of corn gracefully to and fro--as they play through
a forest of pines, or as they ripple the grasses of
our lawns--are performing their function in the
scheme of reproduction as effectively as the bee
performs its when it goes from geranium to
geranium in search of sweets.
Consider the simple salt water cell, as seen
reproducing itself under the microscope merely
[92]

ON VARIATION
by splitting in two; and those two each becoming
two, and so on endlessly.
Observe that, with only a single line of
parentage from which to draw tendencies, the
individualities to be found in this, the lowest form
of life we know, are molded wholly by the difference in the saltiness of the water, or the variation
in its temperature, or those other limited changes
within a short-lived environment.
And then consider the geranium, and the
Chinese lily, and the orchid, and the corn-with
a thousand added complications in their lives
brought about by a single dominant purpose-a
thousand self-imposed difficulties and obstacles
which would be needless except for that guiding
desire to give the offspring a better chance than
the parent had!
What a price to pay for variation! What
ingenuity and effort each new combination of
heredities has cost! How many must have been
the plants which advertised for insects that did
not come! How many, finding themselves in an
unequal struggle, have perished in the attempt!
Truly, if the cost of things may be taken
as a measure of their value, how much must this
dearly bought variation be worth in the Scheme
of Things!
[93]

LUTHER BURBANK
"The struggle of a plant to secure variation in
its offspring does not end with the seed," said Mr.
Burbank. "It only begins there."
In the tropics, a common tree near the seashore
is the cocoanut palm. The cocoanuts which we
find in our market, their hard shells outermost,
are but the inside portion of the nuts as they grew
on these trees.
When they were gathered, there was a fibrous
substance surrounding the shell of an inch or
two in thickness-a woody fibre torn off by the
shippers to cut down the cost of freight and
cartage. Around this excelsior-like covering, as
the nut grew on the tree, there was a skin-tight,
water-proof cover, with a smooth or even shiny
surface.
At the top of the nut as it would stand if it
floated in water, are three well defined eyes.
Since these cocoanut

palms grow, usually,

along the water's edge, the nuts often roll into a
brook, or a river, or the ocean, and float away.
Once detached from the tree and started on
such a journey, the eyes disclose their purpose.
One of them begins to throw out a system of roots,
not on the outside of the cocoanut, but growing at
first within the woody fibre between the shell and
the outside skin.
[94]

A NUT WHICH BECOMES A SAILBOAT
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of the cocoanut referred to
opposite, showing clearly the three eyes, one of
which throws out a sail at the same time the
others begin to form matted roots.

LUTHER BURBANK
At the same time the other eyes push out saillike leaves extending several inches above the
outer casing.
Then, with sails set, and aided by the current
of the stream, the nut starts out on its journey to
find an environment of its own.
Once landed, after weeks, perhaps, of travel,
the roots which have been growing inside force
their way out into the moist soil at the water's
edge-the sail leaves begin to grow into stalks,
which later develop into the trunk of the tree,
the waves start to build new ground by washing
sand around it, and the first page in the history
of a new palm in a new environment is written.
The hard shell surrounding the stored-up milk
in the cocoanut is there, obviously, as a protection from the monkeys; to prevent extermination
through their liking for the milk.
And that excelsior packing, and that waterproof housing, are these not as plainly the
palm's attempt to provide for its baby tree a new
environment?
We do not have to go to the tropics for
evidences like these.
There is probably no more familiar weed in
our vacant lots than the common dandelion.
[96]

ON VARIATION
Who can forget its feathery seed-ball waiting,
when ripe, for the first youngster, or the first draft
of air to blow it away on its long sail through the
air as it distributes its seeds-some on stones,
perhaps, and some on plowed ground-such a
multitude of seeds that, though many be lost, some
will find themselves throwing roots into new soil,
rearing their heads into new air-starting life in
a new environment?
Or we might learn a lesson from one of the
wild chicorys which provides some of its seeds
with wings to fly, and other wingless ones. Those
seeds without wings fall at the feet of the parent
plant as if to keep green the old family home;
while those with wings fly away to start new
families, under new conditions, where latent traits
and tendencies-latent elements of weakness or
strength-may co-operate to produce a better
chicory.
Or from that joy of childhood, the squirting
cucumber, which, when ripe, fires its seeds, mixed
up in its milky contents, with such force that they
are sometimes carried a distance of twelve to
fifteen feet.
Or even the sweet pea, or our garden pea, which
when their seeds have dried, have the ability to
throw them some distance from the parent plant.
[97]

LUTHER BURBANK
In Mexico, there is the familiar jumping bean
tree, which calls in an insect to aid in the distribution of its seeds.
While these beans are still green, they are
visited by a moth which lays her eggs in them.
As they ripen, the grub hatches out and lives upon
the food stored within.
As if in partnership with the moth, the jumping
bean tree has provided food for her offspring, so
that the larva has plenty to eat without injuring
the seed within the bean.
And the grub, as it hollows out the bean and
jumps about within it, causes it to turn and rollrolls it into a new environment-repays its family
debt to the tree which gave it food.
In the wooded mountains near Santa Rosa
there grows a pine tree which has worked out an
ingenious scheme for taking advantage of occasional forest fires to aid it in its reproduction.
Most other trees mature their nuts or seeds and
shed them every season. The birds may carry the
seeds afar, or the squirrels may take the nuts to
new environments, or the seedlings may come up
at the foot of the parent tree-but the process of
seed bearing and seed shedding usually completes
its cycle every fall.
The pine tree referred to, however, does not
[98]

ON VARIATION
shed its seeds in this way, nor is there any
inducement in them or their covering to tempt an
animal to carry them away.
They grow in clusters about the trunk and
branches, but remain attached to the tree. The
cones which hold them do not even open up.
Sometimes nine or ten crops of these seed cones
may be observed clinging to a parent tree.
But whenever the woods are visited by a forest
fire, the cones are dried out by the heat, and the
seeds, released, fall to the ground and sprout.
In the localities in which these trees grow, there
would be little chance for their seeds to germinate,
in fact, except after a forest fire had cleared the
ground.
Against the competition of all of the hardy
underbrush to be found in those localities, the
mother tree, it would seem, fears that her seeds
will have but a poor chance.
Yet when the fires have cleared the ground and
killed almost every other living thing, these seeds
spring up almost as quickly and almost as thickly
as grass on a lawn; and, competition removed,
they grow with surprising rapidity into the
making of a new forest.
It has been observed that these trees grow
usually along the sides of deep canyons where the
destructiveness of the fire is the greatest-and only
[99]

LUTHER BURBANK
in canyons where forest fires are frequent-showing that without the aid of the fires, the tree can
not perpetuate itself.
So firmly fixed has this partnership between
the fires and this particular pine tree become that
its seeds, if planted under other conditions, will
not germinate.
Taken from the tree, it is impossible to get
them to grow even with the greatest care in good
soil; but experiment has shown that, if placed for
a few hours in boiling water, they will readily
sprout in even poor soil.
Thus, as if through a strange alliance, the
forest fires clear the ground, scatter the cones and
prepare the seed of this pine tree for germination;
and the pine tree, in turn, rebuilds the forest
which the fires destroyed.
The devil's claw, a tropical relative of our
unicorn plant, has developed the power to bite
and to hold on with almost bulldog grip, in its
scheme of providing new environments for its
young.
This plant, growing low on the ground among
other tropical vegetation where the distribution of
seed becomes a problem, grows a seed pod of
seven inches or more in length.
Its seed pod, while maturing, is encased in a

[100]

THE DEVIL'S CLAW-AS IT GROWS
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photographprint of the devil's claw, as it appears
when growing on the vine.

LUTHER BURBANK
pulpy covering with a thick green skin, and its
bulb and hook suggest some kind of gourd.
When the seeds within are mature, the outside
covering splits and peels away, disclosing a seed
nest which is armored with spines more thickly
than a prickly pear. What, during its early stages,
formed the hook, now spreads into two branches
with pointed ends sharper than pins, almost as
sharp as needles.
Between these four-inch hooks, where they join
the spiny bulb behind them, there appears a hole
from which the seeds, if loosened from their
former pulpy support, may, by pounding and
thumping, find their way out into the world.
As the seed pod lies on the ground, its sharp
hooks coiled in exactly the right position, it awaits
a passing animal. This spring trap may remain
set for many months, but once an animal, big or
small, steps between those fish-hook points, their
mission is accomplished. The first slight kick or
struggle to get away imbeds them deeply, and at
each succeeding struggle the hooks bite in, and in,
and in, until finally the animal, in its efforts for
release, pulls the seed pod from the plant and
starts to run.
Swinging to a leg or tail, suspended by the two
sharp points of its prongs, the spiny housing of
the seed pod comes now into play. At each bound
[102]

THE DEVIL'S CLAW-SHEDDING ITS SKIN
In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print showing the devil's claw shedding its gourd-like covering and spreading out its
two prong-like legs.

THE DEVIL'S CLAW-READY

TO BITE

In this space will be mounted a direct color
photograph print of the devil's claw, its sharp
hooks in readiness, waiting only a passing animal
to carry it away and distribute its seed.

ON VARIATION
or jump, the pod flops up and down, and its prickly
points, adding to the pain of the ever-pinching
hooks, are sure to keep the animal in motion. As
the frightened beast makes haste to get away from
an enemy which it cannot see, the seeds within the
pod begin to loosen and fall out on the ground.
When the last seed has left its shelter, the trap
begins to fall apart-its object accomplished-its
seeds scattered throughout a mile or more of new
environment.
The sailor is awed by the mountains, and the
mountaineer is awed by the sea.
And we, too, are more apt to wonder at the
jumping beans of Mexico and at the devil's claw of
the equator than at the cherry tree in our own
back yard-which outdoes both of these by forming a double partnership.
Just as the geranium bids for the bees, so the
cherry blossom, with its delicate pink and its store
of honey advertises for butterflies and other insects
to bring the pollen from a neighboring tree.
And this partnership concluded, the accounts
balanced and the books closed, it then seeks new
partners in the birds.
That delicious meat around the seed, that shiny
skin of red, and that odor of the cherry as it ripens
-these are a part of the advertisement to the

[105]

LUTHER BURBANK
robins-a lure to get them to eat the fruit and
carry the seed as far as they may to another-a
new-environment.
Shall we wonder at the jumping beans and the
devil's claws when our own cherry trees are getting the bees to give their offspring new heredities
and the birds to surround these heredities with
new environments in which to grow?
Wherever we look we see a new display of
ingenuity-all for the sake of variation-variation
which may mean retrogression as well as advancement-but such infinite variation that, surely,
there can be found one out of a thousand, or one
out of ten thousand, or one out of a million better
than those that went before.
Every flower that delights our eye, and every
fruit which pleases our palate, and every plant
which yields us a useful substance, is as delightful
as it is, or as pleasing or as useful as it is, simply
because of the improvement which has been made
possible through variation.

The Titles of the Remaining Chapters
of Volume I Are:
CHAPTER IV

How Plants Rebuild Themselves to Suit Us
The ForwardMarch of Adaptation.

CHAPTER V

S. .
Let

Us Now Produce a New Pink Daisy.

A PracticalLesson in Harnessing Heredity.

CHAPTER VI

Short-cuts Into the Centuries to Come.
New Plants Secured by Hurrying Evolution.

CHAPTER VII.

New Plants Must Be Found to Meet New Wants.
Human Progress and Plant Progress Go Hand in Hand.

CHAPTER VIII .

How Far Can Plant Improvement Go?
A Peep at What the Future Holds in Store.

CHAPTER IX

Piecing the Fragments of a Motion Picture Film.
How We Avail Ourselves of Evolution.

The above six chapters carry seventy-two hand-mounted full page illustrations made
from direct color photographs.

Comments and suggestions upon the preceding manuscript and accompanying Color-illustrated Synopsis- may be written on this and the following
seven pages, detached from this book and mailed to
THE SECRETARY,

THE LUTHER BURBANK SOCIETY,
Santa Rosa, California.
I submit the following comment, opinion, etc.:

Signature

Member.

This book is a preservation facsimile produced for
the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign.
It is made in compliance with copyright law
and produced on acid-free archival
60# book weight paper
which meets the requirements of
ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper).
Preservation facsimile printing and binding
by
Northern Micrographics
Brookhaven Bindery
La Crosse, Wisconsin
2012