440 THE GARDENER. [Oct. 



soTnething very like its soil. Some have not been in bed since yester- 

 night ; not one has slept his usual sleep. Many have come from 



afar : — 



" They have travelled to our Rose-show 

 From north, south, east, and west, 

 By rail, by roads, with precious loads 

 Of the flower they love the best : 



** From dusk to dawn, through night to morn, 

 They've dozed 'mid clank and din. 

 And woke with cramp in both their legs, 

 And bristles on their chin." 



" Piilvis et umhra sumus ! " they sigh, we are all over dust, and 

 shady. They are like Melrose Abbey — sunlight does not suit them. 

 " The gay beams of lightsome day" are not becoming to countenances 

 long estranged from pillow, razor, and tub. They have come to meet 

 the Queen of Flowers, as Mephibosheth to meet King David, not 

 having dressed his feet, or trimmed his beard, or washed his clothes 

 from the day the king departed. And this reminds me that we, the 

 clerical contingent, appear upon these occasions especially dishevelled 

 and dim. Sydney Smith would undoubtedly say that we " seemed to 

 have a good deal of glebe upon our own hands." In the thick dust 

 upon our black coats you might write or draw distinctly ; — (I once saw 

 traced upon the back of a thirsty florist — of course a layman — To he 

 kept dry ; this side up) — and our white ties — 



" Qui color albus erat, nunc est contrarius albo," 



are dismally limp and loose. The bearded brethren remind one of St 

 Angus, of whom we read that, perspiring and unwashed, he worked 

 in his barn until the scattered grain took root and grew on him. 



By-and-by, when the exhibition is open to the public, we shall be 

 as spruce as our neighbours, and as bright as soap-and-water — he is 

 no true gardener who loves not both — can make us. Meanwhile let 

 me assure the new-comer among us that there are strong brains and 

 gentle hearts within those swart and grimy exteriors, and that he will 

 find in the brotherhood hereafter — so I prophesy from my own experi- 

 ence — many dear and steadfast friends. For me Floriculture has done 

 so much — quickening good desires and rebuking evil — that I have 

 ever faith in those with whom its power prevails. But let us never 

 forget, while we congratulate and commend each other as florists, that 

 humility on the score of our multitudinous weeds is more becoming 

 than pride in our little dish of sour wizened fruit ; that " we are the 

 sons of women, Master Page;" and that the old serpent hides still 

 among our flowers. And now, to confirm such v/holesome memories, 



