of plant life--Luther Burbank-- says of the poor weeds that we
despise among plants:

There is not one weed or flower, wild or domesticated, which
will not, sooner or later, respond liberally to good cultivation
and persistent selection. * * * Weeds are weeds because they are
jostled, crowded, cropped and trampled upon, scorched by fierce
heat, starved, or, perhaps, suffering with cold, wet feet,
tormented by insect pests or lack of nourishing food and
sunshine.

Most of them have no opportunity for blossoming out in luxurious
beauty and abundance. * * * When a plant once wakes up to the
new influences brought to bear upon it the road is opened for
endless improvement in all directions.

More pitiable than any weeds in a garden and more worthy of
sympathy are those poor human weeds in the great prison.

Crowded and kept ignorant in youth, tempted, ill-fed, cold and
worried in after years, their lot was hard--and their fall almost
inevitable. They must be confined, they must be protected
against themselves, they must suffer for the poor start given to
them.

But the duty of those who are FREE and fortunate is to treat
kindly those who fall, and especially to deal in such fashion
with the young as shall minimize the crop of weeds later.

Fortunately, it may truly be said that humanity begins to realize