Department of Plant Material 
The department of plant material makes no promises beyond the 
one of doing its very best. Its editors will try to give accurate in- 
formation about plants, and definite directions for their culture. 
Success sometimes depends on such seemingly unimportant things, — 
for instance, the shy blooming of old peonies may be caused by the 
slow accretion of soil over the crowns. You planted your peonies at 
the proper depth, or rather lack of depth, but year after year fer- 
tilizer and leaf mold have gathered over them, and suddenly they stop 
blooming. Remove an inch or two of soil, and they will again be one 
of the glories of June. The lovely Rose Acacia has strangely brittle 
twigs, — they crack even when they do not break off in the strong winds. 
A split twig is too busy mending itself to bloom. Stake the plant 
properly, and it will reward you with exquisite flowers. 
Such are the things this department will try to tell, as well as 
the names and descriptions of new plants. When we do not know, 
and cannot find it in the printed word, we will ask, and where pos- 
sible, we will give our authority. The department will expect the 
co-operation of each Member Club when information pertaining to 
their locality is needed. 
We hope to be asked many questions that will try our mettle, and 
we look forward to plenty of healthy, though heated, disagreements. 
Being an ardent admirer of Harrison's Yellow rose, the new and 
much vaunted Rosa Hugonis will have to earn its spurs in my garden. 
Harrison's Yellow is perfectly hardy in and around Chicago, where 
Dorothy Perkins requires winter protection; it is free from every 
pest, grows vigorously and blooms lavishly if given ordinary care, 
and will not only live but will bloom under conditions of neglect that 
would kill any other cultivated rose. It has an interesting history 
in that it is one of the early American roses, and a hybrid of Rosa 
spinosissima and Rosa foetida, the lovely but evil-smelling Persian 
rose. It has inherited the freedom from insect pests from its spiney 
parent, and the sunny butter-colored blossoms from the Persian, but, 
praises to the Goddess Flora! it has not inherited the odour that so 
well earns the name for the species. 
I have heard an amusing story of the Harrison Yellow rose; how 
true, I cannot say. It seems that Queen Victoria was extremely fond 
of the Persian rose, but the odour made her ill. Someone took the 
new American hybrid to England, planted and tended it, and in due 
time, presented the young queen with a huge bouquet of the lovely 
sprays of bloom. Tradition says that an international incident was 
made of the charming gift, and that the never-faUing good-will of 
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