"What a pity," I thought later, "that Mr. Schroeter has not worked up a stock tenfold what he has to offer! We could have sold every cutting."
About the beginning of March, orders came in so thick and fast that we were at our wits' end to fill them. Numerous checks and post-office money orders had to be returned. To the credit of Mr. Schroeter be it said, he grew the stock most carefully; for not only did he have no complaints, but he had many complimentary letters, a thing so encouraging to every Carnation disseminator.
B. Schroeter, the Grand Old Man of Detroit
Mr. B. Schroeter, whom I have known since my first visit to Detroit during the Fall of 1889, may be called the "grand old man" of Detroit. He is today seventy-six years of age, but years do not seem to count with him. His activity in his own business and his keen interest in things in general seem to have lightened the burden of old age, in his case. Six years ago, upon his seventieth birthday, the Detroit florists in a body tendered him a banquet, and presented him with a suitable token of their esteem and admiration. This incident goes to prove in what esteem Mr. Schroeter is held by his brother florists in Detroit. I have yet to meet a man who would speak of Mr. Schroeter in any but the highest terms; and it is no surprise that it should be so. My own experience with him has been of the friendliest nature; and it is always a source of great pleasure to me to call upon "the grand old man" and talk to him on all sorts of topics. For Mr. Schroeter is a well-posted man, and a voracious reader of the German classics, such as Goethe and Schiller, some of whose masterpieces he almost knows by heart. It is also an inspiration to a younger man to hear him plan things for the future. Here is a man of seventy-six living as if he had his whole life before him. You never hear him refer to the past as "the good old days." On the contrary, his general attitude is that of Robert Browning—
"Grow old along with me—
The best is yet to be."
Rose Pink Enchantress proved a profitable undertaking, not only the year of its dissemination but the second year as well.
My enthusiasm for the Carnation end of my business kept on growing in proportion with my faith in the future of floriculture in general. Among my friends I became known as a Carnation specialist, and although I never grew a Carnation in my life, many a grower often extended me a hearty welcome because he thought I could give him pointers that might be of value to him. I remember one case when a dispute arose between two rival disseminators as to the merits of two respective seedlings, both red. Along with the few prominent growers who were invited by one of these disputants to be his guests over Sunday, and see his seedling for themselves, I was asked to come. My reputation extended even beyond our own borders, for I often had letters of inquiry and orders from Canada and England. Some of the most conservative growers in our own country would often consult me before investing in a variety. I was proud of this fact, because it proved to me that my sincerity of intention was not questioned and that I inspired these men with faith in my judgment. Unfortunately my judgment was not always correct; but is there a man in any line of endeavor who is absolutely infallible? If I have erred at times in my judgments, I have never wilfully or with malice aforethought misrepresented any article. It is one of the most valued compliments I have ever received, that a certain grower remarked to my son: "There's" one thing sure—if your father recommends a Carnation, I feel pretty safe in assuming it's a good thing. And if by any chance it isn't, I know he's been fooled about it himself."
I think most of my friends in the trade are equally sure that if a thing doesn't
