LITTLE GARDENS 



Is endeared; for they become, literally, a part of 

 it. I hope to see, one day, such rose farms as 

 they have in France and Persia ; acres, yes, miles 

 of red and white, grown for the attar and other 

 extracts, but though we have none of them we 

 can still make our gardens beautiful. For some 

 nurserymen are devoting themselves entirely to 

 roses, thereby seeming to betoken the unfailing 

 popularity of the flower, and their list of vari- 

 eties is surprising, not to say, confusing. After 

 trying sundry of the new strains I go back to the 

 standards with increasing satisfaction. The new 

 varieties, especially those of dwarf habit, deli- 

 cate color and tea fragrance, are floral toys, made 

 only for the greenhouse, or for balmy lands 

 where the natives never feel the invigorating 

 frosts of the North. At least, my experience is 

 that such roses peak and pine out of doors, even 

 in genial weather, they are subject to insect pests 

 and diseases that less affect the larger bushes, 

 and they are uncertain in their blooming. Of a 

 number that I set out in a sheltered yard one 

 summer, all died but two or three, and they ex- 

 hausted themselves in putting forth their buds. 

 Last summer a dwarf plant gave birth to a huge 

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