The Garden Magazine, May, 1923 
205 
in The Garden Magazine. My vegetable garden is far larger than 
1 want, but place for a flower garden without altering the whole layout 
of the farm seems to be lacking, and flowers I must have. Therefore 
1 raise annuals in long rows right with the vegetables, arranging them 
primarily according to height. For example, Cosmos as a rule marches 
next to Lima Beans; African Marigolds and Zinnias finish out the rows 
of Tomatoes at the stonier 
end of the garden. Snap¬ 
dragons and Nasturtiums 
alternate with Beets, Car¬ 
rots, or Chard. And for 
three years there has been 
a row of Dahlias. I sow 
the seed in the coldframe, 
spacing generously. The 
seedlings are transplanted 
to the garden at the same 
time Cosmos or Tomatoes 
are set out, and they are no 
more difficult to handle 
than any of the big com¬ 
posites. Of course this 
method does not give exhi¬ 
bition blooms—monstrosi¬ 
ties a foot in diameter—but 
as Mr. Bolles points out it 
does give a wealth of beau¬ 
tiful flowers and the unex¬ 
pectedness of their colors 
and shapes adds never- 
failing zest to the game. 
Such Dahlias would be en¬ 
tirely beyond the reach of 
many gardeners if they had 
to depend on tubers; but 
Dahliasfrom seedare within 
the reach of any one who 
'has room to grow them. 
This arrangement of 
flowers and vegetables is 
a scandal to my farmer 
neighbors, but I never saw 
bles do not seem to mind it! 
TULIPS AROUND THE BIRD BATH 
Miss Alice Rathbone, whose occasional contributions on Sedums, etc. have been so much 
enjoyed sends this view of her friendly garden in the spring season. It is at Chatham, N. Y. 
annuals grow better and the vegeta- 
It certainly makes a most cheerful gar¬ 
den. When all is over for the season 1 spread as much strawy manure 
as can be spared and have the garden plowed deeply and left rough 
until the following spring. I find this treatment more efficacious 
against cutworms than all the paper bands and collars, and the soil is 
in beautiful shape for early working.— Amelia S. Calvert, Appletop 
Farm, Cheyney, Pa. 
Plant Your Troublesome Dahlias Early 
To the Editors of The Garden Magazine: 
DERHAPS Mr. John W. Chamberlain will be interested to know 
*■ that I had the same experience (as described by him in the Open 
Column for November) with some of my Dahlias during the damp 
season in one bed which did not receive the sun all day and where the 
soil was very rich. 
The dampness was, I think, the greatest factor of the three, because 
other gardeners in the neighborhood had like trouble, but from year to 
year 1 have thrown away some specimens of certain varieties because 
they needed so much pruning. Other specimens were all right. Try 
planting the varieties that give the most trouble earlier than the 
others, and in the driest, sunniest place you can find.—C. A. Cardin, 
Ridgewood, N. J. 
Recalling “Forgotten Roses” 
To the Editors of The Garden Magazine: 
A FTER reading the letter from Marcia Hale in the March number 
-Fv concerning Roses of the past, I cannot refrain from writing you 
about the Cabbage Rose (Rosa centifolia), a very old Rose originated 
away back in 1596. My first acquaintance with it was in an old garden 
—my grandmother’s—by the Chateauquay River. It was flourishing 
among the tall grasses and weeds, side by side with Peonies, Orange 
Lilies, and yellow Briar Roses, all of which had been planted forty-odd 
years before. They had had little care or protection for twenty years, 
yet they were still growing and blooming. Since that time the “July 
Roses” have held a romantic charm for me. I have found them by 
many doorsteps in little towns and country places in Quebec, tenderly 
cared for, and each July giving a wealth of beautiful, fragrant, pink 
flowers, with centres of golden stamens. A friend of mine has a row 
of these lovely Roses in his back garden, and has planted a row of dark 
velvety-purple Irises in front of them. When the Irises are at their 
height of beauty, the pink¬ 
ish Rose buds are just 
breaking—such a delicate 
and simple color scheme! 
One rainy afternoon in 
early July, when 1 saw this 
corner of Irises and Roses 
just coming into bloom, 
they seemed to me like a 
part of fariryland! 
Yet, for all its good 
points, I do not find beau¬ 
tiful Rosa centifolia in any 
Rose catalogue, or any of 
the other “Forgotten 
Roses.” 1 wonder why not? 
—F. L. McN., Montreal, Que. 
—The article by Marcia E. 
Hale in the March G. M. 
concerning old-time Roses 
growing in her garden at 
Elizabethtown, N. Y., was 
read with great pleasure. 
For many years I, too, have 
cared for a number of these 
varieties, supposing that I 
alone was left to admire 
their modest beauty, so 
many of them having been 
destroyed to give place to 
the superb modern Roses 
now offered in bewildering 
profusion by dealers in 
choice plants. 
our garden was brought in 
The Rose which takes precedence in 
1810 with other treasures from the garden in Litchfield, Conn., when 
the family moved to Central New York, the “ Far West ” of that period. 
This is the sweet white Rose so beloved by New Englanders. With 
it came also the “dear old deliciously scented half-double red Rose,” 
mentioned in the above article, and also the York-and-Lancaster. A 
pretty legend as to the origin of this last named Rose should be re¬ 
membered. In the famous Temple Garden, London, grew the two 
Roses, the red and the white, which gave their names to the War of the 
Roses. Each of the two claimants to the throne of England, meeting 
in this garden, had plucked a Rose, so choosing it as his emblem for the 
approaching conflict. After a hundred years of devastating warfare 
a marriage was arranged between a princess of the defeated House of 
Lancaster and the victorious Duke of York, afterward Edward IV 
of England. Then it was that this York- and-Lancaster Rose, is said 
to have appeared with the curious blending of both red and white 
in its petals. Such a marvelous occurrence was at once hailed as a 
happy omen, both for the royal marriage as well as for the future peace 
of the realm. [A pretty legend, but not supported by history.— Ed.] 
Another favorite, transplanted from the Litchfield garden is the red 
Moss Rose. This Moss is more mossy than that of any improved 
variety I have seen. The Cabbage (hateful name), or Provence Rose 
and the Hundred-leaved Rose are both fragrant and free blooming. 
Harison’s Yellow, prettiest of all in the early morning before the sun 
has touched its beautifully rounded buds; George IV, of gorgeous dark 
crimson color; Queen of the Prairie, Ayrshire; the pale pink Damask; 
the darling Scotch Roses; the multiflora; the Cinnamon, and others 
have grown in our garden for seventy years and are still faithful 
bloomers every summer. 
Perhaps the rarest treasure in our collection is a lone survivor of 
the now practically extinct Button Rose [also known as Burgundian, 
Rosa centifolia parviflora.— Ed.] honored with a place in the best 
of the old gardens but never a common Rose like so many of the 
others in my list. After many years of vigorous growth and blooming, 
this sturdy little member of the great Rose family succumbed, before 
any one had noticed its distress, to several attacks in successive years 
of the saw fly and black spot. Having vainly searched for this Rose 
