However, this list is the choice of the rose-breeder, par excellence. Every one is clear in color, rich in fragrance, of attractive and abundant foliage, fine growth, sturdy health; all sound, capable roses. Every one is a seed-bearer and pollenizer of true and tested quality, recognized by the great breeders of the long ago as valuable in strength and dependability for breeding, and used extensively by them in the development of modern roses.
     This choice, so stimulating to recall, leads us into thinking about roses in a more comprehensive way. We think how nature shows her purpose to stand firm in certain varieties. At the same time she gives to men the opportunity to use these sure roses for further variation and multiplication and thereby add to the beauty of gardens. The long story of rose progress from the specimens of old roses in our garden to the unnamed new roses grown under his care, is spun into a fabric for the imagination to play upon. Such is the memory of this revealing visit of the rose culturist, who, with no suspicion that he is giving us such richness of contact, is so modest, so kindly, so intelligent, so encouraging. May he return, soon and often!
     By no count of a season are these all of our visitors, nor are they the only ones who left with us much to remember in their observations, their reactions, their choices. Many, many more have added to our storage of winter thoughts. We would not part with one of them, however different, however unusual. Dean Hole says that "He who would have beautiful roses in his garden must have beautiful roses in his heart." We meditate through this off-season of winter upon which are the most beautiful roses, which are the most beautiful among our old roses. We know what we like best, but so many different roses have been chosen as most beautiful that we conclude there must be just as many different hearts for roses to live in as there are beautiful roses. That being so, we are convinced that, strangely true as it may be, these old-time roses do cast a spell of their own conceiving, do compel admiration for themselves. Except for the busy farmer, he who comes, lingers, and he who lingers chooses something without which life will never be quite the same again.
                                            (20)