"
Intimate communion with nature, who unlocked to him many of her
jealously guarded secrets, had given Burbank a boundless spiritual
reverence.
"Sometimes I feel very close to the Infinite Power," he confided
shyly. His sensitive, beautifully modeled face lit with his memories.
"Then I have been able to heal sick persons around me, as well as
many ailing plants."
He told me of his mother, a sincere Christian. "Many times after
her death," Luther said, "I have been blessed by her appearance in
visions; she has spoken to me."
We drove back reluctantly toward his home and those waiting thousand
letters.
"Luther," I remarked, "next month I am starting a magazine to present
the truth-offerings of East and West. Please help me decide on a
good name for the journal."
We discussed titles for awhile, and finally agreed on EAST-WEST.
After we had reentered his study, Burbank gave me an article he
had written on "Science and Civilization."
"This will go in the first issue of EAST-WEST," I said gratefully.
As our friendship grew deeper, I called Burbank my "American saint."
"Behold a man," I quoted, "in whom there is no guile!" His heart
was fathomlessly deep, long acquainted with humility, patience,
sacrifice. His little home amidst the roses was austerely simple;
he knew the worthlessness of luxury, the joy of few possessions. The
modesty with which he wore his scientific fame repeatedly reminded
me of the trees that bend low with the burden of ripening fruits;
it is the barren tree that lifts its head high in an empty boast.
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