132 A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. 



Stars of special brightness have gHttered in our 

 firmamenf — Gloire de Dijon, Charles Lefebvre, 

 and Marechal Niel. The latter is, I think, the 

 greatest acquisition, because we had, previous to 

 its introduction, no hardy Yellow Rose, realizing, 

 as this does — in the wonderful beauty of its 

 flowers, their size, shape, color, fragrance, longev- 

 ity, abundance, in the amplitude of its glossy 

 leaves and the general habit of the plant — our 

 every desire and hope. We possessed some ap- 

 proximation to Gloire de Dijon in our Tea and 

 Bourbon Roses. Charles Lefebvre was a develop- 

 ment of General Jacqueminot ; but of a hardy 

 Golden Rose, more precious and more welcome a 

 thousand times than those Golden Roses which 

 popes have sent to favored kings, we saw no har- 

 binger. 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 

 aiiri — the egg-cup made us long for the tankard 

 of gold. Solfaterre had not depth of color, and 

 its flowers were faulty in shape; Cloth-of-Gold 

 was not meant to be worn out of doors, and was 

 quickly tarnished by rough v^^eather; and even the 

 Marechal's own mother, Isabella Gray, had dis-, 



