get, because my list of irresistible ones grows each 

 year; and then the rose growers have been so gener- 

 ous in sending me unlabelled gift roses. It so hap- 

 pens now some of my loveliest roses' real names 

 are unknown to me; they've had to attain names as 

 best they might. For instance, that delicate pinky- 

 white climber with the great loose clusters, having 

 the odor of frankincense and myrrh, is known to us 

 as the " horse-bitten rose," but to you that name 

 would not be enlightening. 



And the men who label the roses surely the per- 

 fume goes to their heads, for how often they mix the 

 labels ! There was that Viscountess Folkestone I 

 ordered for the sake of "Elizabeth of the German 

 Garden." When it bloomed the flowers were of the 

 most tantalizing shades of orange, shell pink, gold 

 and flame in short, compressed sunsets. 



Prizing her so highly I of course smothered her to 

 death with winter flannels and in my anxiety un- 

 dressed her first of all in the spring. She did look 

 rather haggard, still I hoped to love her back to 

 health, but by May she was a wizened mummy. I 

 immediately ordered another Viscountess Folkestone 

 in memory of the deceased. The new one grew, 

 thrived, and bloomed bloomed a well-bred, insipid 

 70 



