As Mr. Durand well puts it, new varieties, to be of value, should produce berries that "measure from four to eight inches in circumference, of good form, color and flavor; very large specimens are not expected to be perfect in form, yet those of medium size should always be. The calyx should never be imbedded in the flesh, which should be sufficiently firm to carry well, and withstand all changes of our variable climate. The texture should be fine, flesh rich, with a moderate amount of acid—no more than just sufficient to make it palatable with sugar as a table berry. The plant should be hardy, vigorous, large, and strong; of great endurance as to climatic change, and able to stand any amount of manure of the right kind. It should be a prolific bearer, with stalks of sufficient length to keep the fruit out of the dirt, and bear its berries of nearly uniform size to the end. Any serious departure from such necessary qualities would be fatal to any new variety."

What is the use of spending time on varieties that do not possess these good qualities, or many of them, so pre-eminently that they supersede those already in our gardens? Shall I root out the Charles Downing, Seth Boyden, and Monarch, and replace them with inferior kinds because they are new? That is what we have been doing too extensively. But if, in very truth, varieties can be originated that do surpass the best we now have, then both common-sense and self-interest should lead to their general cultivation. I believe that honest and intelligent effort can secure a continued advance in excellence which will probably be slow, but may be sure.

The public, however, will suffer many disappointments, and every year will buy thousands of some extravagantly praised and high-priced new variety, in hope of obtaining the ideal strawberry; and they so often get a good thing among the blanks that they seem disposed to continue indefinitely this mild form of speculation. In the final result merit asserts itself, and there is a survival of the fittest. The process of winnowing the wheat from the chaff is a costly one to many, however, I have paid hundreds of dollars for varieties that I now regard as little better than weeds. From thorough knowledge of the best kinds already in cultivation, the propagator should not impose any second-rate kind on the public. And yet the public, or the law which the public sustains, renders this duty difficult. If a man invents a peculiar nutmeg-grater, his patent protects him; but if he discovers, or originates, a fruit that enriches the world, any one who can get it, by fair means or foul, may propagate and sell to all. To reap any advantages, the originator must put his seedling, which may have cost him years of effort, into the market before it is fully and widely tested. If he sends it for trial to other localities, there is much danger of its falling into improper hands. The variety may do splendidly in its native garden, and yet not be adapted to general cultivation. This fact, which might have been learned by trial throughout the country before being sent out, if there was protective law, is learned afterward, to the cost of the majority who buy. In view of the above considerations, it is doubtful whether the pecuniary reward will often repay for the time, trouble, and expense which is usually required to produce a variety worthy of general introduction. Other motives than money must actuate. As Mr. Durand once said, when so perplexed by the difficulties and complications of his labor, and so disheartened by the results that he was inclined to throw down the burden, "There is a fascination that binds me still." In other words, he was engaged in one of the divinest forms of alchemy.

Having procured the vigorous stock from which we hope to obtain still stronger and more productive varieties, we may go to work several ways. We may plant our choice varieties in close proximity, and let the bees and summer gales do the hybridizing. It will be remembered that the organs of procreation in the perfect strawberry blossom are the pistils on the convex receptacle and the encircling stamens. The anthers of the latter produce a golden powder, so light that it will float on a summer breeze, and so fine that insects dust themselves with it and carry it long distances. When this dust, which is called pollen, comes in contact with the stigma of a pistil, it imparts the power of development both to the seed and that which sustains it—the receptacle which is eventually transformed into the juicy pulp. If the pistils are not fertilized, there will be no strawberries, as well as no seeds. Perfect-flowering varieties, therefore, are self-fertilizing. There are stamens and pistils in the same flower, and the pollen from the former impregnates the latter. In view of this fact, the probabilities are all against success in obtaining an improved variety. While the pollen may pass from one perfect-flowering kind to another, and produce a seed which will give a new combination, the chances of self-fertilization, and that, in consequence, the seeds will produce degenerate and somewhat varying counterparts of the parent, are so great that it is a waste of time to plant them. There is little to be hoped, therefore, from the seed of perfect-flowering kinds left to nature's influences.

In this country, we have pistillate varieties, or those that are wholly destitute of stamens. Mr. Fuller says that, for some reason, they do not originate abroad. It is obvious that, with these pistillates, we can attain a direct cross with some staminate or perfect-flowering variety; but if our pistillates grow openly in the garden, near several staminates, the seeds sown may have been fertilized by the poorest of them, or by pollen from wild strawberries, brought by the wind or insects. It is all haphazard work, and we can only guess at the parentage of the seedlings. There is no skilful combination of good qualities, such as the stock farmer makes when he mingles good blood. Gathering the seed, therefore, in our gardens, even under the most favorable auspices, is the veriest game of hazard, with nearly all the chances against us; and yet superb varieties are occasionally procured in this way. Indeed, as we have seen, they sometimes come up themselves, and assert their merit wholly unaided. By such methods, however, the propagator has not one chance in thousands, as much experience shows.

We are, therefore, led to isolate our plants, and to seek intelligently and definitely to unite the good qualities of two distinct varieties. If they have no pistillate plants abroad, they must remove all the stamens from some perfect flower before they are sufficiently developed to shed their pollen, and then fertilize the pistils with the stamens of the other variety whose qualities they wish to enter into the combination. There is no need of our doing this, for it involves much trouble and care at best, and then we are always haunted by the fear that the stamens were not removed in time, or so completely as to prevent self-fertilization. With such pistillate varieties as the Golden Defiance, Champion, Spring-dale, and Crescent, we have as robust motherhood as we require.

In order to present to the reader the most approved systems of hybridization, I will give the methods of two gentlemen who are among the best known in relation to this subject.

The late Mr. Seth Boyden won world-wide celebrity by his success, and the berry named after him will perpetuate his memory for many years to come. When grown under the proper conditions, it presents a type of excellence still unsurpassed.

Mr. Boyden's neighbor, Mr. Ogden Brown, of Hilton, N. J., writes to me as follows:

"My method of raising seedlings is the one practiced by Mr. Boyden. In August I set the plants from which I wish to secure new combinations in a plot of ground the size of my glass frame, and in early spring set the frame over them, so that the plants may blossom before any others. Thus, no mixture from the pollen of outside plants can take place, for none are in bloom save those in the frame. The plants within the frame are two or three pistillate plants, all of one good variety like the Champion; and three or four superior, perfect-flowering kinds, any one of which, I think, will make a good combination with the pistillate variety. The seeds from the pistillate only are used, and when the fruit is ripened, these seeds are slightly dried and placed between two pieces of ice for about two weeks. I then put them in pure sand, wrapped up in a wet rag, and keep them sufficiently near the fire to preserve constant warmth until the germs are ready to burst forth. I then sow the seeds in a bed of finely riddled rich earth, and cover with boards about six inches from the soil. This is to prevent the sun from drying the ground. Plants thus raised will be sufficiently large to set in the fruiting-bed in September. In the fifteen years that I was acquainted with Mr. Boyden, I never knew him to fail in raising fruit from these plants the following summer. I do not know that Mr. Boyden's method has been improved upon."