252 THE GARDEN OF A 



I gathered the first real bouquet of roses this morn- 

 ing, splendid Jacqueminots, a few clear pink Anne 

 de Diesbachs, and half a dozen moss buds and heavy 

 tinted leaves from a bush that was very old even 

 when father bought the place, and being ungrafted 

 and on its own root has kept perpetual youth by aid 

 of new suckers. It is always best when possible to 

 plant ungrafted roses. Our seasons are so variable 

 that in spite of covering, all but the sturdiest bushes 

 are liable to die down below the graft ; flowerless 

 briers spring up undiscovered, so that the untutored 

 may cherish them a whole season. 



Of course no other flower can compete with the 

 rose, except perhaps the carnation ; that, owing to its 

 qualities of endurance and fragrance, rich vivid or 

 delicate colouring, is almost an equal. The green- 

 house rose and the rose of the American garden are 

 almost two different flowers, however. Of course, in 

 England, with its humidity that always veils even 

 though it does not obscure the sun's intensity, the 

 outdoor conditions are more even and like those of 

 a greenhouse. There the roses even of cottage 

 gardens are perfect, thick fleshed, and sturdy, while 

 the climate allows Gloire de Dijon and Marechal Neil 

 to festoon second story windows unchecked, in com- 

 pany with white jasmine ; and Marie Van Houtte, a 

 tea rose, grows to the size of a great lilac bush. 



