Owing to the mildness of the season, we have lost very
few Roses this year. Indeed, I only found one actually
dead — an old standard. Such gaps as there were we
filled up with three or four little bushes, grown by our-
selves from cuttings struck the autumn before last off
sorts of remarkable beauty. They are the last we have, so
we must remember to take more. The long litter strewn
upon the beds as a protection against frost has now been
raked off, only the short stuff being left. This we are point-
ing in, and with it a good dressing of dissolved bones.
The Snowdrops are almost over now, and the Hyacinths
in the greenhouse past their best. I think I like Paix de
I'Europe, a white, and Leopold III., a blue, as well as
any that I have grown this year, but they are both single
varieties. The Chionodoxa, which are planted against the
south side of the house, are now out. What a beautiful
blue they are! I believe they call them Glory of the
Snow; indeed, that is the translation of their name, but
here they are by no means an early bulb. I wonder if
these are the same that I have seen growing wild in Italy,
literally among the snow ; or, perhaps, those were Scillas.
