SELECTION. 133 



Golden Roses which popes have sent to favoured kings, we 

 saw no harbinger. The beautiful old Yellow Provence was 

 all but extinct. I have never seen it, except in the gardens 

 of Burleigh — "Burleigh House by Stamford town." The 

 few splendid petals of the Persian Yellow only increased 

 our sacra fames auri — the egg-cup made us long for the 

 tankard of gold. Solfaterre had not depth of colour, and 

 its flowers were faulty in shape ; Cloth-of-Gold was not 

 meant to be worn out of doors, and was quickly tarnished 

 by tough weather ; and even the Marechal's own mother, 

 Isabella Gray, had displayed such feeble charms that no 

 one mourned her sterility. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she 

 produced a paragon. I have not placed it at the head of 

 the list, for the sole reason that I have not yet perfectly 

 satisfied myself as to its capacities in this particular depart- 

 ment — that is, as a Climbing Rose. I have not fully proved 

 it, and I shall make no statement in this work which my 

 own experience has not taught me. Having grown the 

 Rose, since its distribution, both in beds and on a wall — 

 and this, I rejoice to say, in the fullest phase of its beauty 

 — I believe it to be perfectly hardy, and likely to be the 

 king of the climbers ; but until it has passed unscathed one 

 of our severest winters, and then covered a large space with 



