The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 8, 1896, Page 15

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, MARCH 8, 1896. 15 > ALIFORNIA has a world-noted | hybridizer in the person of Luther { Burbank of Santa Rosa, 8 man | \\=/ little known on this coast, though | hundreds here as elsewhere enjoy he results of his twenty years of devotion s fascinating art. dly a street-hawker of market prod- | uce but oracularly proclaims before our merits of the Burbank originated by Mr. Bur- | and introduced to farmers by James | gory of Massachusetts. Then we are more or less familiar with the extra | all quality of the Burbank, Wickson, Sweet | | Botan and Satsuma plums and the del clous honey prune; or have read in E ern catalogues and horticultural publica- | ions glowing descriptions of marvels in rid berries sent out from California— | the Golden Mayberry, Great ‘American, Primus and lceberg—all of which are | 1bered among the ‘‘new creations” of her Burbank. In fact, the achieve- nts'of this scientific specialist in th duction of new forms of plant life have e him the wonder of pomologists on two continents. Dr. L. H. Bailey of Cor- University in a recent letter say: he results of Mr. Burbank’shybridiza- tions simply astound me,”” and Dr. Robert H. Lamborn of New York phenomenal succe: winian evolution of thougt number of the American | of cross-bred gladioli and cannas, all flam- | to have Mr. Burbank show us his lovely T ing he went to farming on a small scale in Lunenberg. From earliest boyhood he showed a marked aptness for plant study and experimentation, and before he was 21 had sent out the Burbank potato, which was soon widely known as a standard va- riety. The climate of New England prov- ing too severe for his choicest plants, he sold out in 1875 and came West to Sonoma | County, California, which has since been | the field of his astonishing labor. Though kindly disposed and even con- ciliatory in manner, Mr. Burbank has no mind to have his time wasted by thought- less visitors, as the following instance will show: One day in June, when thereconld be seen from the road two acres of hybrid lilies gloriously abloom and other acres ing like torchesin rows, two ladies alighted from a carriage before the gate and leisure- ly walked up the garden path. Their ex- clamations of delight were heara by a man in a stooping posture over an ailing plant. He arose promptly and came forward, dusting his hands meanwhile on a flaring tropical leaf which ke plucked by the way. His clothes were of coarse brown tweed, but with a certain neatness about the neck. There was a straightforward look in the blue eyes that faced the unwelcome vis- itors, and a barely perceptible smile on the pleasant mouth as he bowed gravely. The foremost ladv addressed him with airy condescension: “We havedriven out from Santa Rosa R Wlllllll\T T VUL VU ZA D e — | CQLTURE, was cut short-stemmed to spare the buds and handed them at the gate as a sort of peace offering. Nor was their chagrin lesseried when the driver, an old resident of the country, remarked a little later: “You ladies was mighty lucky to run across Mr. Burbank the first thing. Most folks as comes oninvited don’t get so much as a sight o’ him—his hull time is so took up with mixin’ plants.” That was about the truth of it. This “‘mixin’ "’ of allied species of vegetable life is unquestionably a slow process, necessi- tating infinite patience and unhindered time. As these experimental grounds are private property, and the plants not for sale at retail, the curious oridle visitor has no justifiable excuse for coming here. On the otker hand, an invited guest is sure to meet with a hospitable reception on the part of the master, whose unaffected cor- diality and responsive intelligence make him delightful to meet. An amusing incident is told of how cer- tain local characters regard Mr. Burbank’s erratic methods of running a nursery. A stranger once got off at the nearest rail- road station, and, iooking about him in- quiringly, finally asked a rural-looking individual if he knew Burbank. The old farmer’s answer was graphic and straight to the point: “You bet yer life I do. I worked fur him once nigh ontoa year. He’samighty cur’ous chap—sold out a big nursery that was payin’ well, an’ went to raisin’ acres an’ acres o’ stuff, an’ every summer digs ’em all an’ burns ’em. I wouldn’t give a Iwo BN g S~ S HA S s [From a photograph.] ACRES OF HYBRID LILIES GLORIOUSLY ABLOOM. ces a lively interest in every new prod- sent out from the Burbank experi- ntal farm ; while a late issue of the Royal | ntific Journal, a Hungarian publica- | great California plant specialist.” this evidence but proves the truth of e old adage that “a prophet is not with- | ut honor save in his own country.” But | ow that the name of Luther Burbank is nored in afl centers of vomological \ce, Californians are becoming inter- ested in the quiet maw who toils early and te on a gentle slope of the Sonoma foot- his personality almost lost to his | est neighbors in the prodigions ab- | tion of work to his hand. He was \ of Scotch parents in Lancaster, Mass., arch 7, 1849, and was sent to school until so we won't be kept waiting.” There was no hint of harshness in the genfle but positive answer: “Mr. Burbank is very busy and has jevotes & sixteen-colnmn article to | given positive orders that he is not to be | | disturbed, but he will not mind if you! look at the flowers.” And they did look at them, their hands greedily hovering over the strange, splen- did blossoms, but not daring to break off a single one while that imperturbable “gar- dener” kept close to their side. I am sorry not to give you a bouquet,” he said, considerately, *‘but this is the month when people come from great dis- tances to see the nursery, and so we have | orders not to cut the flowers.” His reticence and evident desire to get back to work had the effect of shortening rticulture,” and the London Garden | flowers. Do please tell him we are here, | hundered dollars fur the hull kerboodle.” | The stranger, who happened to be thz senior member of a large Eastern floral firm, gravely thanked his informant, and | the same day went to the Experiment farm, where he selected a half-dozen plants for which he paid $6000. The Burbank grounds are in two plats; the one on a level ten acres in suburban Santa Rosa, and the other a foothill plan- tation eight miles west of this lovely val- ley city, and just outside the quaint cross- | roads village of Sebastopol. The latter | nursery is a veritable wonder garden, cov- | ering the eastern slant of a picturesque | hill whose summit is tipped with young redwoods and madrones. The choicest | plants are grown here, as the place is shel- | tered from winds and fogs, and the soil is a rich, sandy loam, with an underground LUTHER BURBANK, W “THE WIZARD OF HORTICULTURE.” [From a photograph.] Sebastopol farm with every conceivable variation in appearance and habit. A | large percentage of these vines are sure to prove comparatively worthless and so will have to be uprooted and destroyed. Out of thousands of seedlings growing here for purposes of selection only a dozén bear the master’s seal of approval in the form of bits of whiterag tied to each cane. In speaking of the painstaking operation of testing so many berries Mr. Burbank says: “Last summer I found the task too | much for me alone, so I had one of my men to help. Itneeds an educated taste | to discriminate between slight differences in flavor and one who makes a business of it must have abstemious habits. I make | it a peint not to hire a man who uses whisky and tobacco.” ‘When a plant is proved to be of real value it is- sold out to wholesale buyers like John Lewis Childs of Floral Park, New York, the Stark Brothers and A. Blanc & Co. of Philadelphia—old firms who bave dealt extensively with the Bur- bank ‘“‘creations.” A plant novelty of ex- ceptional merit is never a drug on the market and brings a price ranging from several hundred to several thousand dol- lars, the originator reserving no rights as to its future propagation. The time has arrived in the history of American horti- culture when purchasers of specialties in fruits, flowers, ornamental trees and shrubs are aware that Europe is not the only field open to them, as in Jate years America fur- nishes a constantly increasing supply of new and valuable plant novelties. A late achievement of Mr. Burbank’s, in which he shows pardonable pride, is a thornless raspberry—a cross between the Cuthbert and black cap. “I have been working for seventeen years to get it, and now you can see for yourself,” drawing slowly through his un- gloved hand a polished, leafless vine. “There isn’t a pricker on it, and not a par- ticle of rusty down. Last season it had an abundant crop of mulberry-colored ber- ries of fine quality, though not so large- sized as I would like.” A moment after he called attention to another “new creation,”” which was also in bigh favor. It was a white blackberry —a vigorous bush of the Lawton type, which bears the snowiest clusters ever known to berry cultivators. stock of this superb novelty, consisting of one strong bush and 300 hardy plants from root-cuttings, was recently sold to an East- ern purchaser. Among the imported foreign varieties is a magnificent giant blackberry from the Himalayan mountains, the balloon berry from Japan, a showy, inflated shell that bursts with the picking, and which Mr. Burbank whimsically designates “a first- class Japanese swindle,” and the Rubus | capensis or Stanley berry, brought here from the interior of Africa. ‘Ihisdelicious berry was first described by the famous explorer whose name it bears. Its chief The entire | characteristic is its profusion of elegant, brocaded leaves, which make it a striking feature of the grounds. The best of the Burbank hybrids are pro- duced from crossing siandard varieties like Cuthbert, Shaffer's Colossal and Law- toa with the wild berries of this coast. In making selection from the latter it was but natural to begin experiments with the handsomest of these native plants, the thimbleberry (R. Nutkanis), salmonberry (R. Spectabilis), and the Rubus ursinus or wild dewberry. What traveler through the Coast Range but has seen whole moun- tain siaes trailed over with riotous thimble- berries, their large, four-lobed leaves of a fresh, tender green and upholding flatwise white, silklike blooms as big as wild roses. These berry slopes, floating “their scarlet, button-shaped clusters in mid June, add unspeakable blitheness to young groves of fluttering oaks and maples. But unfor- tunately all this suggestive loveliness is proved of no avail to the pomologist; this vrettiest of our coast berries is obstinate to improvement, resisting in fact the most indefatigable efforts along lines of polleni- zation and selection. Nor is the salmonberry much more amenable to the persuasions of culture, tnough itis oneof the most attractive shrubs of our northern sea-line wcods, and certainly worthy of cultivation for orna- ment. In several instances a cross with the sa!monberry has vroduced a fairly good hybrid, but take it all in ail the re- sults have not been satisfactory. It isre- served for the wild blackberry or dewberry to be the pistillate parent of some of the finest of the new berry strains which, in every instance, excel either parent in size, productiveness and flavor. Oddly enough, too, these dewberry hybrids ripen their fruit several weeks earlier than the orig- inal plants, the large spicy flowers being followed in an incredibly short time by rich, glossy berries. Another attractive line of fruit hybrids are several new varieties of standard quinces, the ‘ pineapple quince.” In speaking of the pineapple quince Mr. Bur- bank said: “When it was yet in the seed box I noticed its superiority over iis 700 brother seedlings. The leaves had a richer green, and were finer cut and more luxuriant. Last year it showed what it could do in bearing. The fruit was perfect, a beauti- ful varnished yellow with no touch of the disagreeable fuzziness characteristic of the quince. The grain was fine and en- tirely free from harsh acid and the flavor a delicious blending of quince with pine- apple. It got mellow like an apple and could be eaten raw like one or baked and stewed into sauce.” In the production of variations in plant life, Mr. Burbank does not stop short of a high rank. He admits that the re- sults of some of his experiments are as great a surprise to himself as they are to others, but is positive no limit can be fixed to improvement in vegetable types if there is a persistent patience and the eye trained to note the slightest devi- | Niverra Eax ation in variations. he was 18, when he learned wood-carving. | the call, and the disappointed ladies 100k Afterward finding this work too confin-| their departure, each with one rose, which — e | Alec Macrab of Mendocino puts it, *Na- AN ACRE OF HYBRID BERRIES ON THE BURBANK FARM. (From @& pholrgresd- | seepage that does away with the need of irrigation even in the driest summer. it is not one nor ore hundred variations of a plant that is seen. but many thousands of hybrids, all traceable to the same stock and each having more or less of the char- acteristics of one or both parents. These combinations have been coaxed into being by the patient manipulation of scienceand the brooding and nurturing of this wizard //«(/// ///////{/// / Y Il A /,,,// I v V 7, 1 } hill. All countries seem represented here, 7 ?,/// i | and in their successive seasons one 7104 | sees strange, flaring blossoms from / | Japan, Asia, South Africa, New Zea- land and Australia, with line upon line of | their unrecognizable crossbred progeny. There are superb improvements in double clematis, myrtles, giant and dwarf callas, a gorgeous canna that puts to shame the famed ‘“Madame Crozy,'’ acres of lilies in midsummer, all phenomenal in shape, brilliancy and size. Old species have been | broken, cross-fertilized, hammered, as it | were, out of former shapes by this “horti- | cultural wondersmith’” and made to thrive and flower upon a scale so extensive as to suggest magic rather than the sober work of science. Parent defects are les- sened or totally obliterated, and the changed forms embody to a degree of perfection all beauty and desirability in the old. When a flower is too ephemeral | the master painstakingly sets about re- placing the flimsy petals with fleshy, volished ones which are proof against wind and sun. It may take years to eradicate one plant habit or create a new one. Though it is barely spring the ground is warm to the feet and the sun streams like a flood from the uuclouded east. Upon every hand is an ineffable landscape—a sweep of plain, oak-islanded in fields of emerald grain, round-backed hills, grassy between clumps of trees or wearing a striped livery of grapevines, green notches in the slopes, where picturesque villas nestle, orchards whitening with blooms, and over all a sympathetic calm and soft- ness in the air which adds an almost hu- man tenderness to the lengthening of the March days. A land of opulent orchards, vineyards and gardens, all growing with bomely naturainess and not with the arti- ficial luxuriance noticeable in the irrigated portions of California, where nature has always a ““dressed-up”’ air, or, as dear old WHITE HYBRID BLACKBERRY, ONE OF MR. BURBANK’S SUCCESSES. [From a photographe) ture in a white shirt!” dbere are acres of hybrid berries syt~ IN BLUE GRASS LAND. The Ashland Thoroughbred Stock Farm Made Famous by Henry Clay. NOW CONI'UCTED BY A WOMAN. The Successful Venture of the Widow of the Great Commoner’s Son. LEXINGTON, Kv., March 2, 1896.—The Ashlaud thoroughbred stock farm is just out of the limits of Lexington, and 1s one of the most fertile and beautiful farms in the blue grass region. Standing on the {ront porch of the comfortable, ancient brick residence may be seen—two miles distant—the apex of the magnificent mon- ument reared by admiring friends in honor of the American who said “I had rather be right than President,” on which stands his marble efligy, with eyes fixed, summer and winter, toward Ashland, as if his mighty spirit were keeping eternal watch over the old home he loved so well. The breeding of thoroughbred horses on this estate began as a pastime for Henry Clay. The birth of the first little equine aristocrat—1831—is recorded by his own hand in a stock-book still in use. But the ‘‘Great Commoner” had but little time to spare from the affairs of state to devote to any private taste, and his son John, early showing great love for the thoroughbred, took charge of the stock, which, under his care, soon furnished-leaders on nearly every racecourse in America, and were sent across the ocean to compete on their own ground with English racehorses, with flattering results, the son of Maggie B B— Iroquois—winning the Derby and other once lowering a record); Von Tromp, Ap~ pomattox, Barefoot, Bright Pheebus, Sem- per Fidele, Semper Rex, Semper Lex, Sem- per Ego and Loki, all high-class stake win- ners. She has great tenderness for her horses ana her affection is returned. Promptly they will come at her call and wait for the caressing pat and the friendly word. Once, when showing some yearlhings to a visitor, three frolicsome fillies began to pull at her broad-brimmed straw hat. Smiling she stood, making no effort to protect her bead gear, which was snatched away in three separate bits. *‘It didn’t cost but a quarter,” she remarked in the tones of one apologizing for the bad behavior of spoiled children. *‘And just to think,” she added, asad look coming over her face, “I have to put up those babies to be sold and there isno telling how they will be treated; why, these little things have never had a cross word.” However, she has indemni- tied her feelings to the extent of providing for the comfortable future of every super- annuated animal on her place. A provision in her will secures $50 annually to each one for life. A PECULIAR BIRDHOUSE. It Is Nailed to the Top of a Very High Pine Tree. On the northern slope of Mount Tamal« pais, in plain sight of one of the numerous trails leading up from Ross Valley, is one of the mostinteresting looking birdhouses to be found anywhere. The miniature house itself is not so unusual looking, but its position is so strange one involuntarily asks, *“How did it get there?” The tiny structure is fastened to the top of one of the highest pine treesin the vi« cinity. The tree is dead, and perhaps has been for some time. The top is at least seventy feet from the ground. The trunk is very slender and even if the tree were young and springy would not support & man so that he could climb to the top and nail the birdhouse in place. How long the birdhouse has been in ity present vposition is another questlon hardly possible to answer. It looks weatherworn, but seems to be in good condition otherwise. The supports that Lals Mrs. John M. Clay, Who Owns and Manages the Ashland Stock Farm. [Drawn from a photograph.} prominent- events; and the son of Sly Boots—Sachem—besides winning races, was third in the Derby. In regard to his broodmares quality, not number, was John M. Clay’s rule. He would say, “One good one is worth a drove,” and from a few well-selected dams he bred so many good horses that he was called the ““Sir Joseph Hawley of Amer- jca.” Yorkshire, presented by Commodore Morgan, became a stallion of great re- nown, celebrafed for the staying qualities and the ability to carry weight he im- parted. Magnolia was a gift from Dr. Mercer. She is called the ‘“Queen of the Stud- books.”” Her thirteen foals were thirteen winners of celebrity and, after their trans- ference to the stud, they, with equal dis- tinction, transmitted the royal blood of their progenitors. Margaret Wood, who was presented by Colonel Hampton,*is reckoned scarcely second to Magnolia. The performance of her granddaughter, Balloon, is without parallel to this day, winning in the autumn of her three-year-old form at one, two, three and four mile heat races. Subse- quently she gave to the turf the distin- guished triad, Revolver, The Banshee and True Blue. 8o convinced became J. M. Clay of the unrivaled excellence of the blood of Mag- nolia and Margaret Wood that he elimi- nated frem his stud every female not their descendants. And nearly forty years of almost unbroken prosperity as a breeder evinced the correctness of his opinion. For his unblemished integrity and kindly heart Mr. Clay was much loved and honored, and when, aged 67, at the home of his birth, his good white head was called to its final rest, the sorrow felt was sincere and abiding. It now seemed certain that the stock would be dispersed—the old breeding establishment broken up. Butyet living was an owner whose heart was in the right place. Mrs. Clay made this announcement: *No changes are contemplated; the busi- ness will be continued on the same meth- ods as near as possible, and managed by myself.” Of course at first she had many diffi- culties and discouragements; but these she met with the steady resolution befit- ting the great-granddaughter of a brig- | adier-general in the War for American In- | dependence. 5 Eight years have passed, and her work shows for itself in the pervading appear- ance of thrift and good management. The twenty-five miles of substantial plank and post and rail fence, twenty-six buildings, thirty gates and twelve sets of bars all evi- dence constant supervision. And no other breeder can show better kept stock. And when ber yearlings are sent to the sale ring they go‘in the pink of condition. In a sale at Morris Park one of her yearlings brought $8200, the lot averaging $3500. I Some of the good performers soid by her are: Riley (Derby winner), Minnie El- kins (Derby winner), Rainbow (Derby win- mer), Guilford (winner of forty-two races, fasten it to the tree are apparently strong enough to hold it in its present position for a Jong time. Nobody living in the vicinity knows anything about the origin of the bird- house. Some say it has been there for twenty years and others say only a short time. There seems but one solution of the way in which it got into its present lofty position, and that is that a number of years ago, when the pine tree was younger, another tree grew close to it, up which somebody climbed and fastened the birdhouse in place. The tree that was Birdhouse on Top of a Pine Tree in Ross Valley. [From a sketch.] used as a ladder was afterward cut down. The quaint old structure on its lofty perch always seems to have tenants. —————— It is quite common in Fiji and Samoa for a man to bear upon hisarm or body & certificate of his birth which is practically indelible. Tattooing is-carried on in these islands to an absurd extent, and it is the practice to tattoo on the hand of a mother the date of her children’s births. Some- times also an enthusiastic father will tattoo the date of the birth on the child itself, and no matter how long it lives, the certifi- cate will remain easily decipherable. In some adjoining islands every child is tat- tooed almost from head to foot upon its completing its twelfth year. The result is very remarkable, especially if the child is growing rapidly, so that the spaces between the tattoo-marks increase in size year by vear. — e The tea plant is said to be a variety of the camellia.