462 



Old Time Gardens 



not seem old ; it is gifted with everlasting youth. 

 We know how the Persians gather before a single 

 plant in flower ; they spread their rugs, and pray 

 before it ; and sit and meditate before it ; sip sher- 

 bet, play the lute and guitar in the moonlight ; bring 

 their friends and stand as in a vision, then talk in 

 praises of it, and then all serenade it with an ode 

 from Hafiz and depart. So would I gather my 

 friends around this lovely old Rose, and share its 

 beauty just as my friends at the manor-house share 

 it with me ; and as the Persians, we would praise it 

 in sunlight and by moonlight, and sing its beauty in 

 verses. This York and Lancaster Rose was known 

 to Parkinson in his day ; it is his Rosa versicolor. I 

 wonder why so few modern gardens contain this 

 treasure. 1 know it does not rise to all the stand- 

 ards of the modern Rose growers ; but it possesses 

 something better — it has a living spirit; it speaks 

 of history, romance, sentiment; it awakens inspira- 

 tion and thought, it has an ever living interest, a 

 significance. I wonder whether a hundred years 

 from now any one will stand befcfre some Crimson 

 Rambler, which will then be ancient, and feel as I 

 do before this York and Lancaster goddess. 



The fragrance of the sweetest Roses — the Dam- 

 ask, the Cabbage, the York and Lancaster — is 

 beyond any other flower-scent, it is irresistible, en- 

 thralling; you cannot leave it. You can push aside 

 a Syringa, a Honeysuckle, even a Mignonette, but 

 there is a magic something which binds you irrevo- 

 cably to the Rose. I have never doubted that the 

 Rose has some compelling quality shared not by 



