Is not old wine wholesomest, old pippins 
toothsomest? 
Old wood burns brightest, old linen wash whitest. 
Old soldiers, sweethearts, are surest, 
And old lovers are soundest. —Cras. KiNcGsLEY 
Aaa, 
Gloire de Dijon. Climbing Tea. (1853.) “Sunset hues in its heart’”’ nicely 
says Dr. McFarland, but for real enthusiasm, we must quote once again from Dean 
Hole, in 1865— 
“I obey at once the legate of my Queen. I lose no time in stating that the best 
Climbing Rose with which I am acquainted is that which has just announced itself, 
Gloire de Dijon, commonly classed with the Tea scented China Roses, but more 
closely resembling the Noisette family in its robust growth and hardy constitution. 
Planted against a wall having a southern or eastern aspect, it grows, when once 
fairly established, with a wonderful luxuriance. I have just measured a lateral on 
one of my plants, and of the last year’s growth, and found it to be 19 feet in length, 
and the bole of another at the base to be nearly ten inches in circumference. The 
latter grows on the chancel wall of my church, and has often had three hundred 
flowers upon it in full and simultaneous bloom; nor will the reader desire to arraign 
me for superstitious practices before a judicial committee when he hears that to 
this Rose I make daily obeisance, because in passing into my church, I must duck 
to preserve my eyesight. Its flowers are the earliest and latest; it has symmetry, size, 
endurance, colour, fine tints—buff, yellow, orange, fawn, salmon, and perfume! 
It is what cricketers call an ‘all-rounder, good in every point for wall, arcade, pillar, 
standard, dwarf, en masse or singly.” The good Dean leaves us nothing more to 
say, except the price. 2.00 
Green Rose. (1856.) Whenever we book an order for this rose, (and per- 
haps more are ordered than any other) we are fearful lest our good customer may be 
expecting something in form and substance like Crimson Glory, except in sea-foam 
green or Chinese Jade. Certainly this rose is an interesting novelty—‘‘the April fool 
rose,” says Iva Newman, patly; but for beauty, it has only “ugh!” Its flowers 
are no flowers at all but a strange and quite unexplained freak of foliage; the buds 
open to double leaf green “flowers,” edged with bronze. If you seek “something dif- 
ferent,” here it is. : 
(P.S. The writer named his kitten “Ugh,” after this rose; she isn’t “green” bu 
she’s “‘different!”’) 1.50 
Gruss an Teplitz. China (1897.) Gordon M. Beals of Omaha, so ex- 
cells our anemic description of last season, we hasten to quote his words—Gruss 
an Teplitz can’t be planted in a bed with H. Teas, for it will grow up and around 
and over them, almost to lilac bush proportions. I planted four with other H. Teas 
and in three years had to tear up the whole bed to get them off by themselves. With 
270 roses, including the best of the old and new, I sometimes find myself liking 
these four plants the best of them all. When I get within 15 feet of them on a 105 
degree day, what a fragrance! Hundreds of blooms, sometimes as red as Christopher 
Stone and always pretty.” Now I suppose most of you will shy away from Teplitz, 
fearing to put him within nodding distance of your other roses—wonder if Mr. 
Beals lost his pruning shears? 1.25 
Hadley. H. Tea. (1914.) No amount of criticism will weaken our admir- 
ation for this handsome red rose, which needs only a warm sunny spot, or a shot 
of sulphur dust if the spring rains are too persistent. Its rich, deep crimson tone, 
fine form, and wonderful fragrance, plus its excellent blooming habit, can give 
cards and spades to most of the newer red roses. “When better red roses than Hadley 
are grown, we will grow them.” 
Available in both bush and climbing form—please specify. 1.25 
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