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The Appeal. (Saint Paul, Minn. ;) 1889-19??, October 12, 1912, Image 1

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VOL. 28. NO. 41.
HE man who made
the American
Beauty rose is a
beggar on the
streets of Wash
ington The state
ment sounds more
like a "curtain
lme" for a Theo
dore Kremer melo
diatna, or a riotous contrast
from Jules Verne, than a set
ting forth of sober fact
though It is none the less a
fact of due and attested so
bilety and even, in all kind
ius of some solemnity
The rose -was created," as
the phrase goes, in George
Bancroft's famous rose gar
den, by the hostonan's errat
ic old English gardener, John
Brady it was a legacy to
Brady at Mr Bancroft's
death, in token of long and
honorable service, and of the
fact that Brady had brought
it to perfection only after years of in
exhaustible patience and care, and it
\\as sold for a pittance, but that is
getting ahead of the story
Once upon a time, in 1889, to be pre
lse after George Bancroft had re
turned from long diplomatic service in
Germany, and had settled down to a
tranqulllzing old age in his home in
Washington, there grew up among the
flower enthsiasts of England, Amer
ica and the continent a zealous quest
for a red rose which could be made to
bloom in winter
Mr Bancroft's ascendency as a rose
cultunst in this country had been be
jond dispute for half a century.
At the time of the inauguration of
Abraham Lincoln, Mrs Lincoln de
spaired of pleasing herself in the ar
langements of the White House gar
den. so she called on Mr Bancroft for
help Thia she received in such good
and flowing measure that, in acknowl
edgment of her debt, she sent to the
historian a Bplendid bouquet of ja
ponicas In reply he wrote her that
"for magnificence, the bouquet was a
fair counterpart of Mr Lincoln's
What of official recognition then was
still lacking for Mr Bancroft's genius
as a rose grower was supplied by
Herr Bismarck, who so admired the
American minister to Berlin that he
supplied him with roses and rose cut
tings from the great Bismarck estateb
:r. Poraerania
But all this while, despite the genial
international cooperation of rose
growers, diplomats and statesmen,
the red rose refused to grow in win
tor Its wintertime behavor was, in
fact exasperating beyond all words.
If. after months of herculean effort, a
branch could be made to put forth a
bud some fine morning, it was a sickly
puiple by noon, and brown by sunset
Little yellow roses had thrived, time
out of mind, and these, with camellias
and japonicas, were the sole reliance
of those who would have flowers for
winter decoration.
Matters were in this state when Mr
Bancroft moved to Washington, bring
ing into his charming old house on
Lafayette square two trusted servants:
Herman, who came from Berlin, and
John Brady, the gardener, from Eng
John Brady was installed In the
quaint L-shaped garden, which ran
back to Seventeenth street, and he was
instructed, among other things, to
reap the glory of creating a tractable
red rose
The task was one which Jumped
with his own desires. The Bancroft
garden was scarcely less a personal
pride to Brady than to Bancroft, and
both secretly believed that no praise
of it could be really to extravagant.
It became a rendezvous for Washing
ton's most distinguished persons
how much so, one can guess from
President Arthur's dictum that "The
president is permitted to accept the
invitations of members of his cabinet,
Supreme court judges, andMr.
"George Bancroft."
Dozens of times John Brady seemed
G&OJ?G& fiJUYirfrGrr-
on the eve of being able to announce
the success of his red rose ventures
Once a friend from France brought
Mr Bancroft a cutting of a red rose
called "Madame Ferdinand Jemain,"
which, although it had failed at home
was thought to have possibilities in
an American climate Brady nursed
it along with a fair degree of conscien
tiousness, none too pleased, likely
enough, that France had been so pre
mature in this honorable business
But the little alien rose bush sickened
and died, and was thrown aside, pre
sumably at the end of its history
Then came the shocking news from
England that William Francis Ben
nett had won the red rose race He
had had an astonishing luck with his
plants, and had finally established
their hardihood and their permanence
of color Banciott and Bradj mourn
ed in secret True, there was still the
American championship to be tried
for, but the first fine careless rapture
of success had been already captured.
A rose culturist in New York had
the good fortune, about this time, to
make a new flower, which he prompt
ly named the "George Bancroft." but
this was not compensation enough,
either for the historian or his garden
er So back they went to the seedling
beds, with renewed determination
In the face of such a touching faith
and such abounding energy, the fates
were bound to be kind And so, one
morning, a delighted yell from his
gardener brought Mr Bancroft scur
rying into his garden, to find that in
a bed of white and yellow seedlings
there stood a strange red rose, look
ing for all the world as if it had come
to stay Its stem had a stiffness the
like of which had never before been
seen Its petals looked to have the
hardihood to weather a hundred dis
Where it had come from nobody
could find out It might have been a
stalwart seed
sleft from the scored
and discredited "Mme Ferdinand Je-
main," and it might have been just
that mysterious freak which the rose
culturist has come to take for granted
under the name of a "sport."
At any rate, there it was, and it re
mained to be developed.
For It must be known at the outset
that getting a single bloom is the least
of the rose culturist's troubles. In fact,
it merely marks their beginning.
All new brands of roses are grown
from these curiosities called "sports."
In a bed of seedlings, about once in so
often, an orphan rose will appear
which will bear no trace of Its parent
age, and will usually be found to have
neither longevity nor the ability to
reproduce after its kind. Its seeds will
revert to type.
So John Brady set forth on the up
hill climb to perfecting his little red
"sport." In due time he did it. And
when he had three bushes which he
could personally guarantee to repro
duce red roses after the original pat
tern he placed them in the garden
where they would likeliest be seen.
He had not to wait for the clamor of
approval. Guests for tea in the after
noon were led into the garden by Mr.
ivm 6&oid&&nyecF?'
Bancroft for a "private view" of the
coveted red rose
"Oh, that must be Bennett's new
rose, the English beauty," said the
first woman to spy it
"Not at all, madame," said Bradly,
proudly, "that is the American red
"Then it is the American Beauty,"
said the lady, not to be outdone.
And then and there the name orig
inated, and not all of Brady's storm
iest persuasions could ever dislodge
it For the rose's maker had already
decided that it should be named for
Judge Hagner, a warm friend of Mr.
Bancroft, and Brady's bright particu
lar star, and to have the choice of its
name and the christening ceremony
swept out of his reach at one fell
swoop would have tried the patience
of a saint
Brady finally made the best of it,
and contented himself with assuring
Judge Hagner that things would have
been different if he had had any say
in them
From this time on, however, the his
tory of John Brady and his precious
rose begins to take a somber turn Mr
Bancroft died in 1891, bequeathing the
American Beauty to Brady as a testa
ment of his affection and appreciation
The famous gardens passed into other
hands, and Brady moved, with his
large and hungry family and his
handful of American Beauty rose
bushes, into a little house outside of
Things went rapidly from bad to
worse Brady had neither money
nor the knack of picking up odd jobs
His eldest son was still too young for
responsibility, and the ages of the
others, in regular succession, dimin
ished punctually by a year His wife
was frail, out of patience with pover
ty, and worn to exhaustion with the
care of children.
Brady survived the first part of this
bleak period by observing the Span
is proverb, "Patience, and shuffle the
cards." No stress of want could make
him part with his rose bushes, though
his wife, regarding him as a sort of
monomaniac on this subject, put her
noblest persuasions into the task of
undoing his resolve
To his reiterated tales of the for
tune that would come to him some
day through the American Beauty
rose Mrs. Brady reasonably replied
that 9he and the children were hungry
that very day and hour, and that more
than her soul was sick with hope de
But some prescience of the inherent
value of his rose kept Brady obdurate
to appeals, domestic or professional.
The world of fashion had all but
forgotten the interregnum of the
American Beauty in the Bancroft gar
dens. Rose culturistB had thought,
many of them, that it had never out
lived its heyday. Only a few of the
more observant had remembered that
the treasured bushes had been a lega
cy from Bancroft to his gardener.
One of these last was the elder of
the Field Brothers, wholesale florists
on the old Seventh street road, out
side of Washington. They made con-
it Jte
stant offers to Brady
offers which, from the
point Qf view of their
own poverty, were
handsome enough. But
they seemed beneath
contempt to the gar
dener who dreamed of
Not so, however, to
Mrs. Brady She wept,
cajoled, threat ened.
She conjured her hus
band, Jn the name of
common humanity, not
to let his children
starve before his very
..^8.^3jmade^ her no
repTyr^ther than -by-
the crushing method
of leaving the house,
to take counsel of his
dreams outside.
It was on one of these forlorn occa
sions that Mrs. Brady's patience snap
ped and her loyalty faltered. She
seized the pampered rose bushes,
made haste to Field Brothers, and
sold them, one and all, for scarcely
more than the price of a single meal.
When this was told to Brady, he
touched the hour of his supreme tribu
lation. His world fell away from be
neath his feet. Not once in the 18
ears since then has the stupor which
came upon him lifted for long enough
for realization of his misery to sift
Matters went merrily with the rose
he made. Field Brothers, by skillful
advertising, were able to sell their ex
clusive right to its reproduction for
$5,000 Within a year ten times that
amount was being paid for it by en
thusiastic purchasers here and
For ten years past a moderate esti
mate of the amount of money spent
annually all over the world for Amer
ican Beauty roses is $25,000,000.
John Brady is still homeless in
Washington. His wife and the fam
ished children have died, one after
another. He himself is the recipient
of constant small charities from Wash
ington florists, any of whom will give
him bits of work, spraying, or cutting,
when his mind can be held to his
At the funeral of William R. Smith,
the famous old Scotch superintendent
of the National Botanical gardens,
who had, at eighty, the reputation of
knowing more public mendiplomats,
statesmen, and politiciansthan any
other person then living the United
States, there was an assemblage of
men aggregating almost incalculable
personal distinction. Into the midst
of them crept a shabby, bent old man,
who, with averted eyes and bowed
head sidled into a corner and wept
with unmistakable suffering He was
without any doubt the most humble
and obscure sorrower at the funeral
ceremony. He was John Brady, maker
of the American Beauty
Mercifully he does not feel the in
finite pathos of his lot His real
tragedy ended 18 years ago, when,
having nothing left to hope, he had
nothing left to fear. If you search
him out and question him, you will
find him curiously apathetic
"Me? I am nothingnobody," he
will say to you. "My rose? Yes, that
was my fortune, but they took it
away from me. I cannot make an-
otherI am nothing."
And he will tell you this with the
most exquisite manners, learned, per
haps, In the Bancroft gardens. His
eyes will lighten, his voice will in
tone gently and courteously, and for
an instant before the lethargy steals
over him again you will glimpse the
power that could drag from earth and
make permanent the most wonderful
rose she gives.
He has kept, or perhaps got back,
an impressive sweetness of nature.
One thing only stirs him to overt
flashes of rebellious miseryit is to
be asked to see or handle an Amer
ican Beauty rose.
The "Gemming" Country ol
Famed Old Ceylon.
Native Superstitious in Evidence Ev-
erywhereThree Small Votive
Lamps Always Kept Burn
ing by the Devout
Ceylon.I wanted to see the "gem
ming" country, and journeyed by train
to Avisawela, whence I drove by coach
the twenty-six miles to Ratnapura it
was late in the afternoon when at last
I reached Ratnapura resthouse, and
Adam's Peak itself appeared over the
jungle, glorious under warm, rosy
cloudlets that seemed to be playing a
game of "touch mountain" as they
passed trom one pinacle to another.
The rest house is pitched high up on
the hillside, and in front of it the
broad Kela Gange river gleamed that
night under the stars, and the mysteri
ous gloom of the forest brooded be
hind a curtain of winking fire-flies.
Less than half-way to the sea, up
among the hills on the southern side of
the river, an English syndicate is
working a plumbago mine with first
class machinery and expert engineers.
I stopped to visit this mine, and in its
dark "levels," blasted out of the gneiss
rock in the bowels of the earth, saw
the plumbago being hacked out in
lumps Near the top of the shaft, in
a small wooden box, three little votive
lamps are always kept burningone
light for God, one for the company,
and one for the miners.
During the second day of the river
journey came the shooting of some
rather gentle "rapids," where brown
rocks thrust their noses out of the wa
ter and we rushed down splashing on
a slide to lower level. At last, some
Cingalese Superstition: A "Luck-Pole"
on the Site of a New House in Ceylon.
miles after we had passed the opening
of the Kelani river canal, the long
bridge of Kaletura appeared at the riv
er mouth with a line of fiery sunset
sky behind it, and I saw again the rail
way, and that fringe of cocoanut palms
against the sea which more than any
other detail is typical of Ceylon.
Noted Cuban Scholar Asserts That He
Has Documents to Prove
This Claim.
New York.Dr. Constantino de
Hora Pardo of Havana, a Cuban
scholar of note and a Fellow of the
Royal Spanish Geographical society,
has undertaken to prove to the satis
faction of the American Geographical
society and the Hispanic society of
America that Christopher Columbus
was a Spaniard and not an Italian.
He maintains that Columbus was
born at Pontevedra, Galicia, Spain,
and not at Genoa, Italy.
Dr. Horta has gathered a mass of
documents to prove his contention,
and these are now in New York await
ing the consideration of the American
Geographical society and the Hispanic
After these organizations have com
pleted their examination, Dr Horta
purposes to publish the details of his
research in a pamphlet which will be
sent to governments, universities and
civic authorities throughout Latin
America, that they may rejoice in the
knowledge that Columbus was of their
own blood.
Vanderbilt Helps Injured Man.
Newport, R. I.Reginald Vander
bilt and Preston Gibson, the lattet
formerly of Chicago but now of
Washington, rescued David C. Cruik
shank. who had been run down by an
automobile driven by Augustus Jay^
The injured man, whose skull was
fractured, had been riding on the tail
seat of a motorcycle when run into by
the automobile and hurled to the curb.
Vanderbilt and Gibson, passing in
their machine, lifted Cruikshank into
the car and carried him to Newport
hospital, where he was said to be in
a serious condition owing to his age
of seventy years.
Innocent, 23 Years in Cell.
Huntington, Ind.Mrs. John Epps,
who served 23 years in the Indiana
woman's prison for the murder of her
husband, and who was paroled six
years ago, has been vindicated, it was
learned, by the deathbed confession
of Henry Epps, a brother.
Epps, before dying, said' that he
poisoned his brother.
1 ^_
W^f** lCtt6|Maa^SBTO^ml^Swf ^ug^wakMW^m.
Market of Guadaloupe One of the
Most Beautiful That the Tourist
Can Visit.
The market of Gaudaloupe is one of
the most beautiful of its size In the
western world. Its huge glass dome
Is pierced by tall palm trees that form
natural pillars supplementing those of
Iron that support the roof of glass.
The fish exhibit is the show of the
morning, the "blue silk" and "pink
silk" fish taking precedence over all
others for real beauty. They are laid
out on shining marble counters, next
to the baskets of flying fishgreat
piles of shining silver.
A few years ago it dawned upon the
people who were running the ntarket
that they might do a larger business if
'they had a car line of some kind. So
Women of Guadaloupe.
they put their heads together and de
vised a means of transit that for gen
eral effectiveness goes ahead of many
a more ambitious road of rails and
Today if your business takes you
from the market to the seaa long
journey of a quarter of a mileyou
may ride on the tram line, the equip
ment of which consists of one white
mule, one driver, one seller of tickets
a womanone taker of ticketsa
manand one car that seats ten pas
sengers. The mule is decorated with
a bunch of flamboyant feathers that
wave over his ears like a gaudy ori
The driver is provided with a horn,
more brassy, more noisy than a dozen
ordinary fish horns, which he is sup
posed to blow a few minutes before
the car starts on its journey over the
quarter-mile course and at every
street corner as he approaches it.
Both, the seller a tickets and th.e col
lector ride on the car, and both as
sist with the horn and with the mule
when called on. The ride is never
devoid of interest.
Fire Transforms 150 $20 Gold Pieces
Into a Mass of Yellow
Chicago.One hundred and fifty
bright and shining $20 gold pieces be
longing to Thomas Ballard, owner of
a farm at South Western avenue and
West 135th street, %ere quickly con
verted Into an irregular lump of metal
a few days ago.
Ballard had a mania for collecting
$20 gold pieces. He liked to have
them around so well that he got to
gether $5,000 worth of them and stored
them in a corner of his corn crib. To
keep them from getting lonesome he
carelessly chucked in a matter of $500
in paper money.
A short time ago he took a load of
hay and started for Blue Island. The
morning was calm and bright and
Ballard dozed peacefuly on the top of
the load. He was startled from his
dreams by the sound of his name be
ing called. Looking around, he beheld
a man running frantically after him
"Your barn is on fire!" screamed
the man.
Quickly wheeling his team, Ballard
pulled the hay rack around at right
angles and dumped the load by the
wayside and raced madly back to his
A pathetic sight met his eyes. The
barn had burned. Also a shed and
several smaller outbuildings. Fire had
just attacked the corn crib.
Shouting excitedly for the men who
were fighting the fire to direct their
efforts to the northeast corner of the
crib, Ballard told them that his money
was stored there.
It was almost too late. The fire
spread with almost incredible rapid
ity and was soon licking at the corner
where lay the golden hoard. The
flames were eventually quelled and
as soon as the ruins were cool enough
the search of the ashes for the treas
ure began.
Two or three crisped bills were
found $3,000 in gold was a lumpy
mass $2,000 retained some semblance
of $20 gold pieces.
Ballard mournfully surveyed what
was left of a once beautiful pile of
Use Straw for Tea Drinking.
London.Because of the enormous
hats which fashion has decreed that
women shall wear all society has
been forced into a new fadtea
drinking ,$ferough a straw. Hats of
three-foot diameter have to be bat
anced carefully, as even the biggest
and lotfgest hatpins will not hold
them on. Therefore veils are worn
tied tightly under the chin and the
head is held carefully at the proper
angle so that the hat will keep its
Sew Piece on Girl's Tongue,
Culver's Lake.. N. J.Elsie JewuL a
five-year-old girl, bit an inch of her
tongue off. Dr. Edward A. Ayers
sewed the piece on again.
.fi ti *r
4-it is the organ of ALL Afro-Amerloans.
5-It is riot controlled by any ring or clique-
6-It asks no support but the people's.
Switzerland a Perpetual Delight
for the Tourist.
Charm of Ancient Times to Be Met
With at Every TurnCountry
of Immense Views and Mag
nificent Sunsets.
Geneva. "Switzerland for the
Swiss," is the occasional plaint that
catches the eye of the reader of the
Swiss journals, the latest items of
the kind being the little communing
of Rd in a recent Journal de Geneve.
"The strangers are here," it begins,
"with their porters, their guides,
their autos, their funiculars, the pano
ramas and shops, and souvenirs born
of the shopswill they not presently
make our country uninhabitable? But
when the day does come," he con
tinues in substance, "and we shall be
obliged to abandon the Alps, there
will still remain to us the great Swiss
The Germans do not cease to boast
of flowery Lunebourg, the Black For
est, the Bords du Rhin, the Thuringian
hills and of the Saxon Switzerland,
and perhaps some day, drawn by their
persistent praise, we may get to see
them, but then, they resemble the
scenery of the Swiss plateau.
"Do you know of it?" he continues.
"The foot of the Jura, the Fribourg
country, the Toggenbourg, High Thur
govia, the outskirts of Schaffhausen,
the banks of the Aar and the Reuss,
the little lakes of Bienne, Hallwyl and
the Greiffensee. And do you know
that there are little villages where
there are still the good old inns with
their wrought iron swing-signs, just as
in the days of the diligence? Do you
realize the beauties of the hillocks
here, the prealpes, from which the
view is immense and the sunsets are
There used to be in this old Switzer
land the ancient customs. Sundays,
when fair, the forests were filled with
the young girls in white, with bare
arms and flowers in their hair, and
troops of children loaded with the
berries and blossoms of the country.
Now there are no troopsings of the
children, no songful young men, no
girls In white. You ramble in the
woodsit is hot below, but it is al
ways cool and fragrant in groves of
pinebut there is no one there. You
stroll leisurely, you fill your hand
kerchief with chantereilles and this
is what you see. "A vast* expanse of
hills, the nearer green, the middle dis
tance, blue. There are masses of
forests, one behind another, the vil
lage is out there, crowned by its
lofty castle, the covered bridge below
and the calm river flows without so
much as a ruffle. Houses play at hide
and seek with you, and their chimneys
smoke In unison like cronies, for the
In the Alpine Country.
hour of supper is approaching. You
hear the village bells, first the pre
centor telling the hour and in his
wake the others in solos, duets and
trios. Far away the lake is a burning
spot in the vast expanse and the long
line of the Jura Is brown. See, the
Alps are turning to roses."
This is the Switzerland to which
Rd would call the attention and ap
preciation of his countrymen, of which,
indeed, they now know but little, "and
when you gaze upon it," he concludes,*
"you cannot help but feel within you
the sentiment, 'My Switzerland, my
beautiful home.'"
London School Does a Big Business
Teaching Touring'Americans
"Correct" Accent.
London."English taught to foreign
ers, Americans, and English people.
Accurate speech, perfect accent, and
an elegant style of writing. English
guaranteed in a few weeks."
This advertisement appeared recent
ly in the London newspapers. The "Ly-
ceum School of Languages" is re
sponsible for it.
"During the summer," said the man
ager, "we practically live by teaching
English to American visitors. We find
here that every American in his heart
wants to speak English with a British
To Have Big Air Fleet
London.England is to have
mighty air fleet Plans already under
way will put this new arm of the
service on a par with that of the
other great powers. A great fleet of
fighting war planes will be organized
immediately. This fleet will consist
of two types of machines, one armeo
with quick-firing guns for engaging
and destroying the enemy's aero
planes and the other designed fo

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