I have surely chosen a sweet subject, with which every one is conversant, from the Queen to the peasant. Every one, however, may not have remarked the peculiar and distinct perfume which many Roses of separate types or families possess, and which, notwithstanding hybridization through many generations, is not lost. It is my firm opinion that we can by this peculiarity more truly unravel the tangled net-work of hybridization, in which many of our choicest Roses are enveloped, than by external appearances alone.

Who is not familiar with the scent of the old pink China (Rosa indica)? it is distinct, astringent, and refreshing, but not odoriferous or sweet as the Old Cabbage or Provence. This is the grand type for scent of all the Chinas, Bourbons, and some other almost scentless Roses, which scent still clings to them as a class through innumerable crosses. Should any one doubt this fact let him take a true specimen in each class of our finest modern Roses, say, Hybrid Perpetual: Madame Vidot, or Madame Laffay; Tea: Devoniensis, or Goubault; China: Archduke Charles, or Beaucarmine; and Bourbon: Souvenir de Malmaison; and, if I mistake not, his olfactory nerves will, in the dark, tell him which have the true China blood in them. The next distinct family, identical with the China in its habit and rapid growth, is the Tea Rose, the type of which, the old yellow Tea, had its birthplace in China. This class of Roses cannot be distinguished from the China but by its scent, which the French with their nicety of discrimination considered to be like green tea.

It has certainly a very peculiar scent, most unlike every other Rose. This, the Tea, being blended by hybridization with musk and other Roses, brought our old delicious fruit-scented Jaune Desprez, or the Raspberry-scented Rose. This being probably fertilized by Cloth of Gold has given us, in Gloire de Dijon, the great desideratum of late years; a hardy free-blooming and magnificent climbing Tea Rose, with a true fruit scent. Few or no Roses are so odoriferous as the Teas. I have found a single bloom of Tea Goubault sufficient to perfume a large room. Their peculiar scent is to be recognized, however they may have been crossed with other Roses.

The true old Noisette still retains the delicate scent of its parent, the Musk Rose. The time is now come when the Noisette Roses of our catalogues must merge into what they really are, a family of hybrid climbing Teas. The days of the true old Bourbon, too, are numbered. This brilliant class, for want of scent, is now being largely hybridized with Teas and Perpetuals to give its flowers size and fragrance, so that novelties in Bourbons are every season becoming more rare, and in a few years they will have to be called Hybrid Teas. The Macartneys and other families have now become, for want of fragrance, quite unpopular. So much for perfume. What is a Rose without it?

I now come to the grand family of Hybrid Perpetuals, the most popular of all; and even here, although they have been united and blended in a thousand ways with all other classes of Roses in cultivation,' their perfume, to one accustomed to the true scent of each class, is of the greatest assistance in obtaining a clue to their pedigree. Take the old well-known Hybrid Perpetual, Madame Laffay, as the standard in this class. Its scent has been compared by some to almond paste, and is quite distinct from the rich astringency of the Damask Perpetual, and the well-known Provence or Cabbage. Here, again, how readily the slightest cross with the Cabbage or Moss is to be distinguished, and I am glad to see Mr. Rivers has noticed this in his valuable work, "The Rose Amateur's Guide," and descriptive catalogues, as perfume, the most delightful attribute of the Rose, has been too much overlooked in describing its other perfections. No class of flowers on the face of the earth is so charmingly varied in this respect. There is a very pretty old climber, well known to most Rose lovers, by the name of Ayrshire splendens; with its color I have not to deal.

I believe I could most readily distinguish it from all others by its scent, which has not any trace of the sweetness of the Rose, but a powerful odour of myrrh. As a contrast to this, the climbing white Banksia has the delightful scent of Violets. Then there are the Austrian Briars. Yellow and Copper, which are very singular and distinct in odour. The little Double Scotch Rose (Rosa spinosissima) has quite a charming scent of its own, reminding some of attar of Roses, others of Scotch snuff ! Even the young foliage of several families is distinctly scented, as is well known in the case of Sweet Briars, Mosses, and others.

I fear many of our readers will think I have drawn distinctions without difference in describing the above varieties of perfume, but I believe I can array on my side a goodly list of lady amateurs and brother cultivators, and I shall be more than satisfied if my remarks cause them to revel more in the sweets of their Roses. In connection with perfume I must not omit to allude to a more material point, the extract or attar of Roses. The petals of the Rose are beautiful objects viewed under the microscope; their little vesicles of highly volatile essential oil, which secrete the scent, are distinctly visible. The glands on the foliage of the Sweet Briar and sepals of the Moss Rose are very interesting objects. It is a singular fact that our splendid double Damask and Tea Roses will not produce the attar like the semi-double Roses of Persia and India. This is clearly attributable to the greater heat of their climate ripening, if I may so term it, or secreting from the petals more of the essential oil of Roses. - R. Curtis, in London Florist.