"Two," he replied. "I put out about a dozen in the field, but the boys neglected them. Besides they were put out too late in the season, and all I saved was two. But look at them! Now what do you think?"
I could not possibly enter into his spirit and enthusiasm.
"And what is the cross, may I ask?"
"Cross? I can't tell you exactly," he said. "But talk about your hybridizers and all that rot—I just took a fine camel's hair brush, combed down the pollen of one Carnation, and slapped it on to another one and here's the result."
I could hardly suppress a smile.
"Do you intend to put it on the market?" I asked.
"Well, I can't tell yet. But say, you ought to give it a good write-up! Something that would make them sit up and take notice."
I promised to do something, and the following week among my notes appeared the following:
"Mr. X of Spondulick has a Carnation seedling which, in his opinion, is a gem. He has only two plants, the remainder of a dozen. Mr. X may put it on the market, if the two should happen to survive and multiply."
My write-up didn't cause any special sensation among the trade, and I never heard of any grower's sitting up and taking notice; nor did Mr. X of Spondulick ever take any notice of me after that.
Corresponding for The Florists' Exchange
A few years later, 1 decided to extend my journalistic work in another direction. The Florists' Exchange, of New York, appealed to me as a journal most likely to accept my services as itinerary correspondent. I wrote to the late Alexander Wallace, whom I had met a few times before, and whom I learned to admire for his many remarkable qualities. Mr. Wallace was indeed a great man, modest and unassuming to a fault. He was regarded by all who knew him as a potent factor in the process of horticultural development. He always aimed for the higher standards in horticulture, floriculture, and their allied branches. In horticultural journalism he carried his ideal ever onward, disregarding expediencies and circumstances. To be sure he made some enemies, but what great man does not? I formed an especial attachment for Mr. Wallace, and felt a keen delight in spending an occasional hour in conversation with him. When I applied for the position as correspondent, I never doubted that the response I would receive would be a favorable one. And so it happened. Mr. Wallace wrote me a friendly letter, giving me the benefit of his best experience, making several practical suggestions, and wishing me success in my work. For upwards of a year I continued to correspond for The Exchange, under the pseudonym of "Itinerant."
I was now correspondent for two trade journals. The income I derived from my pen fully sufficed to keep me in clothes and tobacco. While I corresponded regularly for the two journals, I was scrupulously careful that my notes did not conflict with each other. For all practical purposes, "Homo" and "Itinerant," like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, were two distinct individuals.
Termination of Journalistic Career
My journalistic career, however, had to come to a close, and it happened in this manner:
A very much infuriated florist from some place that I need not mention, wrote a very indignant letter to the American Florist, complaining about my partiality to a rival of his in the same town. It happened that the rival he spoke of was rather a prominent man and a good customer of mine. As usual I made a few notes about his place and doings, but failed to mention a word about the other
