PARY UNIVERSITY A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. CHAPTER I CAUSES OF FAILURE. E who would have beautiful Roses in his garden must have beautiful Roses in his heart. He must love them well and always. To win, he must woo, as Jacob wooed Laban's daughter, though drought and frost consume. He must have not only the glowing admiration, the enthusiasm, and the passion, but the tenderness, the thoughtfulness, the reverence, the watchfulness of love. With no ephemeral caprice, like the fair young knight's, who loves and who rides away when his sudden fire is gone from the cold white ashes, the cavalier of the Rose has semper fidelis upon his crest and shield. He is loyal and devoted ever, in stormfraught or in sunny days; not only the first upon a summer's morning to gaze admiringly on glowing charms, but the first, when leaves fall and winds are chill, to protect against cruel frost. As with smitten bachelor or steadfast mate the lady of his love is lovely ever, so to the true Rose-grower must the Rose-tree be always a thing of beauty. To others, when its flowers have faded, it may be worthless as a hedgerow thorn: to him, in every phase, it is precious. I am no more the Rose, it says, but cherish me, for we have dwelt together; and Α the glory which has been, and the glory which shall be, never fade from his heart. Is it rare or frequent, this fond and complete affection? Go to one of our great exhibitions, and you must surely bring the conviction home, that true love, seen seldom in the outer world, may be always found "among the Roses." From all grades and epochs of life, what vows of constancy, what fervid words! "Sir Thomas and I are positively going to ruin ourselves with a new Rosarium." "As soon as I get home," says a country rector, "I shall plant an acre of my glebe with Roses." There you may see a Royal Duchess so surprised out of her normal calmness, that she raises two pale pink gloves in an ecstasy of surprise, and murmurs, "Oh, how lovely!" over Maréchal Niel. There a Cabinet Minister stands tiptoe to catch a glimpse of his brother senator, Vaisse, and wishes he had a neck as long as Cicero's. Obstructing his view with her ample form and bountiful bonnet, our old friend Mrs Brown, who has just had one drop of the least as is," informs the public that she "knows for facts that Mr Turner of Slough has a dead horse under every Rose-tree, and Pauls & Sons has hundreds of young men with gig-umbrellas standing over their Roses when it rains heavy." Mrs Brown is delighted, like all around, and "means to tell Brown, as soon as ever she sets down in her own parlour, that Marshal Need all over the house, and Catherine Mermaid and Merry Bowman1 round the back door, grow she must and will. But goodness me!" she suddenly exclaims, "what a mess o' them reporters!" No, my dear madam, they are not reporters-only spectators, putting down in their note-books the names of Roses, with an expression of eager interest which says, I must have that flower or die. 66 It is not easy might furnish Every year this enthusiasm increases. to collect reliable statistics: some who 1 Catherine Mermet and Marie Baumann. |