pure rose-color. Then comes a group of the '60's and '70's, and later roses belonging to the turn of the century.
     The little gardens of no great importance, often very per-sonal and very choice, even odd at times, are to be entered only upon the privilege of friendship. An honest interest in the grow-ing things therein is the fee. Climbing over the wooden structure about an old well in a little garden is a fine plant of that one-time favorite, Baltimore Belle, produced from our native Rosa setigera, as was another even greater favorite, Queen of the Prairies, the latter deep pink to rose in color, full, cupped and fragrant, often bearing, as a distinguishing mark, a white stripe down each petal, flowering in clusters and long-lasting in bloom. These are the only two much remembered of what was a group of fifteen or twenty nearly a hundred years ago. The native deep rose-pink R. setigera is well worth having. I find it very pleasing in foliage and in its midsummer bloom.
     Perhaps the most unexpected delight in a little garden, so far, was flashed over us on a visit for the purpose of seeing the old Tea, Cornelia Cook, in a burst of bloom. After a pleasant greeting from a charming, tall, graying lady, we passed through a garden gate. A high picket fence enclosed both flower and vegetable gardens. Beyond lay wide fields of corn and tobacco.
     On the way was a great show of the oldest of the Multifloras, discovered in Japan by Thunberg more' than a hundred years ago, which climbed over the pickets, making a close, blossoming screen of tiny white single and pale pink double roses.
     Some day the virtues of these roses will be made much of. It is written that in 1865 Robert Fortune, that great English plant hunter, brought from Japanese gardens a variant of this rose made by crossing it with a China or a Tea, in which the climbing inclination of the June-flowering Multiflora gave way to a bush form, while the roses, retaining their miniature size, both single and double, became everblooming. Other crossings were introduced, and these earliest of the Polyanthas had quite a vogue under such fascinating names as Paquerette, Mignonette, Anne Marie de Montravel, and so on.* Now they have almost disappeared from gardens and are out of commerce.

*Here comes in a memory of early rose experiences, when all these roses were real and admired novelties is my father's garden.-EDITOR.

     Having enjoyed the Multifloras, we proceeded toward Cornélia Cook with many hesitations and exclamations, for this garden is a treasure house of rare old things which hold us breathless as we try to write about them. Cornelia Cook, raised by Anthony Cook, of Baltimore, in 1855, when the namejwas "Cornelie Koch," is a white Tea, sometimes faintly yellow, very large and full, in its day surpassing all other white Teas, even its parent Devoniensis-possibly yet! It is somewhat reticent about blooming. Here we saw our admired Souvenir d'un Ami, a Tea of excellent outline, texture, and form, its rose-pink color illumined by a salmon glow; Elise Sauvage, a dainty yellow Tea with copperish center, globular in form; Mlle. Franziska Krüger, a peachy pink with soft shades of sunset and twilight lavender; Perle des Jardins, another yellow Tea, full like Franziska but having much copper and a little pink in the center; and Safrano, that early buffy apricot Tea, so lovely in the opening bud, for long known as the Tea rose. Nor is this all, for several equally charming remain among the unnamed. We recognized Souvenir de la Malmaison, Bourbon, soft pearly flesh-pink, large, quite flat, quartered in form, strong on its stem; and Hermosa, that sweet, small, full, China-pink rose beloved by everyone who knows it; while other Bourbons and strange Chinas are keeping their names as their own secrets.
     Never before have we seen really old dahlias. Simple red, white, and pink, single and double dahlias belonging to the past -before the dahlia became an exploited flower-are preserved here and loved for family associations. They were growing in a line of their own, intermingled with plantain lilies (funkias), with such good faithful flowers as old-fashioned pinks, spider-wort, lavender, and broom. The true sweet lavender grows into free-blooming woody bushes in this land of tobacco and has been used since the days of the colony for sweetening the linen presses. Of it one old book says: "Boyle it in water and wett thy shirt in it and dry it again and weare it.".
     We find we may visit distant gardens by way of letters. The fee is a postage stamp and the delight is in finding old-rose lovers who take pleasure for themselves in this championship of old roses. What fun it would be to take the sky-way routes and wing in upon our correspondents in their gardens! In Texas, Arizona,