January 18, 1877. ) 



JOURNAL OP HORTICULTURB AND COTTAGE GARDENEB. 



WEEKLY CALENDAR. 



JANUABT 18—34, 1877. 



Royal Society at 8.30 p.m. 



Royal iDstitation at 8 p.m. 



Royal Botanic Society at 3.45 p.m. 



3 Sunday afteb Epiphany. 



Royal Geographical Society at 8.30 p.m. 



Royal Medical and Chirnrgical Society at 8.80 P.M. 



Society of Arts at 8 p.m. 



80.6 

 32.0 

 33.3 

 32.4 



11 48 



11 59 



12 14 



From obseryatioiiB taken near London doting lorty-three yeare, the averag* day temperatnie of the weei is 43.8' ; and its ni ght temperature 



S^ 



CLIMBING BOSES. 



>LTHOUGH not a modern rosarian, I do not 

 consider the Journal quite complete if it does 

 not contain something about Koses. I do not 

 take their omis.sion quite so much to heart 

 as the " Wyld S.^vage " does, who regards 

 it a very " black Thursday " if his favourites 

 are not mentioned. I do not look upon the 

 Rose with the same eyes as that " child of 

 nature." He looks for each individual bloom 

 being perfect in itself, paying little attention 

 to the tree producing it, so long as that tree is vigorous 

 and capable of perfecting his ideal blooms for cutting and 

 placing in the front ranks of the aristocracy of Roses— if 

 indeed there is such a position in a family admitted to be 

 regal. I look at the trees more than the blooms — Eoses 

 in the garden rather than Roses in the exhibition tent. 

 He takes pleasure in cultivating those varieties which 

 require skill to produce them in perfection, and the 

 greater the diificulties he encounters the greater is his 

 satisfaction when having overcome them. Those Eoses 

 are the most dear to him which have cost him the most 

 labour. I take pleasm-e in other Roses — those which are 

 regardless of deep soil, rich manure, the season's fitful- 

 ness, and the pruner's dexterity. 



My favourite Eoses are those which will flourish with- 

 out tnrfy loam or roadside trimmings, and which are 

 proof against serious injury from the nibblings of a few 

 stray sheep. My favourite Roses are those which require 

 no liquid manure, no disbudding, no protection from cold, 

 no shelter from wot, no shading from heat. My Roses 

 thrive iu any kind of soil — in clay, or sand, or gravel, or 

 chalk : on any aspect, from the south side of a cottage to 

 the north side of a church — on the keen exposure of the 

 bleak hillside, or in the bowery shade of woodland walks ; 

 Eoses, in fact, which grow without my care — (I am afraid 

 I am an idle rosarian) — the old-fashioned climbing Eoses. 

 My ideal Rose tree is the old Boursault Rose Amadis. 

 What a tree that is ! not a tender shrub, but a real tree 

 planted at the north side of a villa, and which has grown 

 in wOd luxuriance far above the eaves, covering every 

 part of the roof and even embracing the chimneys. When 

 that tree is in its summer dress studded with thousands 

 of blooms the Roses of the garden in their pi'im proud 

 dignity are dolls in comparison. This real Rose tree is 

 never watered, never pruned, never nailed, and never 

 fails to produce its annual harvest of crimson trusses. 



I have other Roses which I admire — which all admire 

 who see them. They drape tJio walls of a village church, 

 adding beauty to that structure. These Roses are literally 

 " churchyard blossoms," making " God's acre " cheerful, 

 as it should be, by their purity and sweetness. The south 

 side of the edifice is not too hot for them nor the north 

 Bide too cold. They havb bloomed there for many years, 

 even from the days of my childhood until now. They 

 are secured to the walls with iron staples, and are pruned 

 annually witli the garden shears, and under this rude 

 treatment they flourish such as no other Eoses — no other 



No. 825.-VOL. XXXIL, New Sepoes. 



climbers of equal beauty could flourish. They are the 

 old, old climbers. 



There is the ilesh-tinted Alice Gray ; the purely white, 

 densely double, wondrously free, Bennett's Seedling or 

 Thoresbyana. There is the light pink of Dundee Ram- 

 bler ; the bright rose, with glossy foliage, of Adelaide 

 d'Orleans ; the light red and bright red of Gracilis and 

 Fulgens ; the charming, in its smallness, its fulness, and 

 its purity, of Felicite Perpetuo; and the hght crimson 

 and deep crimson of Elegans and Amadis. These are 

 the Roses on my parish church which have lived so long 

 and bloomed so well ; so constant are they and so endur- 

 ing that they seem as if they would never wear out, but 

 appear to whisper the words of Tennyson on the rolling 

 river — 



" Men may come and men may go, 

 But I go on for ever." 



Assuredly many have come and gone since these Rosea 

 commenced blooming, and in all probabiUty many more 

 wiU " come and go " before these old-fashioned parochial 

 Eoses " belong to the past." No other Roses could exist 

 so long under the same conditions. With my own hands 

 I planted (I was not an idle rosarian then) other and 

 more modern Roses amongst them — not modern now 

 perhaps, yet good — Charles Duval, Willitim Jesse, Che- 

 nedole, Lord Raglan, Brennus, Pierre de St. Cyr, La 

 Ville de Bruxelles, General Jacqueminot, Coupe d'Hebe, 

 Gloire de Dijon ; but all are gone except " the Gloire " on 

 the north side and Coupe d'Hebe on the south— both 

 of them beautiful I admit, yet not equal in exuberant 

 beauty to the old-fashioned climbers. 



These old-fashioned climbers are also to be seen and 

 admired iu other forms and iu other places. Being paro- 

 chial Eoses they were, and are, regarded as public pro- 

 perty ; but that claim has never been abused — indeed, 

 putting it on no higher grounds, there has been no reason 

 for abusing it, for cuttings have been freely given to all 

 who have desired them, and now these old and homely 

 Eoses adorn many a humble dwelling, as well as impart a 

 charm — a powerful one — to at least one "great garden" 

 where all the modern Eoses are cultivated and cherished. 

 These old climbers are everybody's Roses, and flourish 

 anywhere. They clothe walls and fences in all aspects 

 and all exposures ; they drape long poles and form " pil- 

 lars of beauty ;" they cover banks and knolls, and hang 

 in wild luxuriance over crags and rocks ; they form great 

 bold groups in shrubberies— thickets of flowers powerfully 

 attractive from their massive grace and rambUng free- 

 dom, and they make bright and sweet the shady twisting 

 walks of wilderness scenery — half garden half wood. 

 What other Roses can grow and bloom like these ? No 

 others can. Then for gathering in huge armfuls, hamper- 

 fuls, vanfuls for festival time — a birthday fete, a society's 

 anniversary, a harvest home — what other Roses can be 

 more acceptable, more admired than these '? None can. 

 For these reasons the old-fashioned climbers are my 

 favourite Roses, and I would not that they should be 

 forgotten or their merits ignored. I do not expect them 

 to be recognised by the Rose Society, I do not want them 



No. 1177.— Vol. LVII., Old Sebies. 



