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Updated: May 25, 2025
Fortunately for him he knew no great Linneus or Count Buffon, else the vast stores which he had been at so much pains to collect would have been given to the world under another name. Look at Bartram." "Bartram!" exclaimed Francois; "why, I never heard the name, Luce." "Nor I," added Basil. "There it is, you see.
His eyes watched me, I thought, with an anxious scrutiny as I approached; and I think it was not until I had saluted him that he recollected suddenly that he had not seen me before at Bartram, and stood up and greeted me in his usual abrupt and somewhat familiar way. It was vulgar and not cordial, and yet it was honest and indefinably kind.
"Between ourselves, Bartram," whispered Master Arthur into his friend's ear, "the class is composed of boys who ought to have been to school, and haven't; or who have been, and are none the better for it. Some of them can what they call 'read in the Testament, and all of them confound b and d when they meet with them.
Andreas, claiming the fulfilment of the promise made so long before, had stood godfather to the little Rosa for so, because of her fresh rosiness, was she named; and there was a strange, sorrowful longing in his heart when, the rite being ended, he came again to his lonely home and sat him down to be comforted by the singing of his birds: for while the children of Alice call Bartram father, there must be ever a weary weight of sadness in the world.
Few know his name; and yet this same John Bartram, a farmer of Pennsylvania, who lived an hundred years ago, did more to spread, not only a knowledge of American plants, but the plants themselves, than any one who has lived since.
Now, it was very odd of me, I must confess, to talk in this way, and to receive all those tender allusions from a gentleman about whom I had spoken and felt so sharply only the evening before. But Bartram was abominably lonely.
William Bartram gave important assistance and encouragement to the friendless Scotch pedagogue, Alexander Wilson, while the latter was preparing his American Ornithology for the press. This industrious and peaceable botanist died within the walls of his dearly-loved home a few minutes after he had penned a description of a plant. He died in 1823, in the eighty-fifth year of his age.
Bartram," said the cobbler, "except that I took his advice, an' ain't ever been sorry for it, an' I wish I'd got it a good deal sooner. I'm just the same old two-an'-sixpence that I was before I went away. That is, I'm always tired an' always poor an' always wishin' I didn't have to do any work.
'Ye'd want savin' yerself, I'm thinkin', if that feel oot, said Tom, cynically. 'I don't say, though, I'll not take it only this I won't run my head again a wall for no one. 'Tom, I said, with a sudden inspiration, 'give me back the letter, and take me out of Bartram; take me to Elverston; it will be the best thing for you, Tom, I mean it will indeed that ever befell you.
These glorious tulips are tall and straight as the man whose hands first broke the sod and pressed the ground tenderly about their roots. They still aspire and shed delicious perfume on the balmy summer air and their verdure is perennial like the memory of a grateful nation. Bartram, an eminent botanist of Philadelphia, was a close friend of Washington.
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