214 
THE LADIES MAGAZINE OP GARDENING. 
short time the camphor will float in the water in small flocculi, but will 
ultimately combine with the fluid and disappear. Plants which have been 
removed from the earth, and have suffered by a journey or otherwise, 
should be plunged into this camphorated water, so that they may be 
entirely covered; in about two, or at most three hours, the contracted 
leaves will expand again, the young faded and dependent shoots will erect 
themselves, and the dried bark will become smooth and full. That being 
effected, the plant is to be placed in good earth, copiously watered with 
rain or river water, and protected from the too powerful action of the sun, 
until the roots have taken good hold of the ground. When large plants, 
as trees, are to be revived, their roots are tQ be plunged into the camphor¬ 
ated water for three hours, the trunk, and even head of the tree, being 
frequently wetted with the same water, so as to retain them in a pro¬ 
perly moistened state. But it is always best, if possible, to immerse the 
whole of the plant. Shoots, sprigs, slips, and roots, are to be treated in 
the same manner. If plants thus treated be not restored in four hours, 
their death may be considered as certain, for they cannot be recalled to 
life by any artificial means; they should consequently never be left more 
than four hours in the camphorated bath, because the exciting action of 
the camphor, when it is continued for a longer period, may injure the 
plants, instead of doing them good. It is not necessary to say, that the 
final prosperity of the plants, thus reanimated by the camphor-water, 
must depend upon the particular properties of the former, the state of 
their roots, and the pains that are taken with them. The camphor 
produces no other effect than to restore life to plants nearly dead; after 
that, all proceeds according to the ordinary laws, and their ultimate state 
must be left to art and nature.” 
YELLOW ROSES. 
Madam, —It is only within these two years that I have seen a yellow 
rose (to be sure, I am somewhat of a cockney, and not much conversant 
in rural affairs), but some years ago I had a country house of my own, 
and I recollect my wife showing me, with great complacency, in our 
garden, a yellow rose, or rather a yellow rose-tree, for it never flowered, 
and soon died. I remember, too, visiting in Hampshire, and being shown 
as the most valuable thing on the premises, a yellow rose-tree, growing 
against the wall of the house, in the most select situation; but it never 
flowered, or if it did show buds, they were eaten up by insects, and never 
came to perfection, to the great mortification of the good lady of the house. 
Indeed, a yellow rose was like a black swan, a rara avis , and nowhere to 
