74 
THE HEART OF A GARDEN 
some that would seem to make more instant appeal than 
others. The Gloire Lyonnaise discloses full white 
globes among its rich foliage; Captain Christy, even 
more charming in colour than the Baroness Rothschild, 
and with the added grace of perfume (which she lacks), 
shows radiantly roseate, a true marvel of vigour; and, 
close by, Madame Berard, in whose charming person 
one finds more than all the merits, with none of the 
defects, of her robust ancestor, the Gloire de Dijon, is 
growing in beauty, side by side with one of my very 
oldest and best beloved friends. Brave in bright rose 
and silver, and scented like the gardens of the Hesperides, 
that favoured plot which contains my many bushes of 
La France is a place whereby to linger, and give thanks. 
There are moments when I stay, loitering in the late 
blue twilight, to wonder whether there is any one of 
the pink roses quite so well worth the growing . . . 
and, to this very day, I cannot be sure. 
