DECEMBER. 287 



A FEW WORDS ABOUT ROSES. 



Nothing in floriculture has inarched so rapidly and steadily onward 

 as an improved and common-sense taste for Roses. It is only a few- 

 years since all the gardening world used to talk of the 2000 varieties 

 of Roses grown by the Messrs. Loddiges ; and happy was the ama- 

 teur who could beat his rival by a score or two of varieties ; I mean, 

 varieties in name and not in fact. In this we had, with our usual 

 national weakness, copied our neighbours the French, who will even 

 now say to their English visitors, " Ah, Monsieur ! have you seen 

 my new Rose ? — la voild f" and then you will have pointed out to 

 you a seedhng from La Reine, with an accidental stripe on each 

 petal ; or a seedling from Madame Laff'ay, with smaller flowers than 

 its parent : then takes place the following dialogue : 



English Florist. These are of no use, Monsieur; they are not 

 distinct enough. 



French Florist. Monsieur, distinct ! they are new. 



E. F. New or old, they are of no use, I tell you : have you a 

 scarlet La Reine, or a yellow one, or a white Madame Laff'ay ? 



F. F. Monsieur, cest impossible; but stop! I have fine new 

 Roses from La Reine, all superb ! Voila Perpetuelle, Coupe d'Hebe. 



E. F. Why, your seedlings are all pretty, but they are not 

 distinct enough. But at what charge do you propose to sell these 

 seedlings ? for although of nearly the same colour as their parent, I 

 should like one or two, if not too dear. 



F. F. Monsieur, they are new. What a horrible word is that 

 " distinct" of yours ; I pray you do not use it. But for my seed- 

 lings I must have a high price, as I will deliver to you all the pro- 

 perty in them ; let me see, for No. 1 you must give 100/. ; for No. 2, 

 125/.; for. No. 3, 150/. 



E. F. Stop, stop. Monsieur ! I will not give you one hundred 

 shillings for your " propriete ;" they are not distinct enough. 



F. F. Monsieur, what a horrible word ! it kills me. 



And so, as usual, not only with Roses, but with many other mat- 

 ters, the quiet cool Englishman sees through his lively brother. 



When I commenced this, I was going to illustrate the improved 

 taste in our culture, by observing that amateurs are not now content 

 with mixed beds of Roses ; all our finer sorts are planted in masses : 

 thus, in some Rose-gardens formed this season, the beds are made 

 to contain from fifty to sixty plants each ; in olden times, these would 

 each have had fifty varieties, forming a patchwork of colour ; now 

 they are arranged so as to form masses of distinct colours. Thus, 

 No. 1 is Baronne Prevost; No. 2, Doctor Marx; No. 3, Madame 

 Aimee ; No. 4, Geant des Batailles, and so on : now these crimson 

 and blush and rose-coloured large groups must have a fine eflfect. 



We are still too much inclined to copy our neighbours, and to 

 have our catalogues burdened with too many names. In some of 

 our English catalogues are more than one hundred varieties of hy- 

 brid Perpetual Roses ; and in the French catalogues one hundred 



