When in France a few years ago, the writer observed to his companion that the French women seemed to have more taste in dress than Americans. "Nonsense," was the reply, " you only have strange eyes in strange places. When we return to Philadelphia I will show you the same any day on Chestnut street." On the return the writer was satisfied that this was just so.

Last year on the Northern Pacific coast it did seem as if nothing had ever been seen so lovely as the Cinnamon roses. Large bushes with hundreds of blossoms, wafting an air of fragrance! How we did wish we had such nice things at home. But it seems another case of strange eyes in strange places. We have seen Carolina roses this season which must be quite as good as the Cinnamon roses of British Columbia, and we begin to wonder that we never saw the real beauty of this very common wild rose before. It is everywhere in swamps, for though its botanical name is Rosa Carolina it is native all along the coast line of the Atlantic United States. Like most swamp plants, it is not near as beautiful in its native places as when removed to dry rich ground. The clumps we have seen the past summer under regular garden treatment are as pretty as anything can be. " But," thought we, " is it as sweet as the Western Cinnamon?" Well, it is sweet, though not perhaps as sweet as its neighbor Rosa nitida or Rosa blanda, but it is sweet enough to be well worthy of the name of rose. Another grand feature is that it blooms when the others are gone. It is a real summer rose.

The Prairie rose comes in after our exhibition roses are done, but they are all gone when the Carolina rose begins to open, and when it does begin it keeps it up a whole month. Even now - on this 23d day of July - one may gather handfuls of this lovely Carolina rose.