22G THE FLORIST. 



and all are bending anxiously and fondly over their treasures. Alas ! 

 that " Gallica" so large in form, so resplendent in colour, when we 

 placed it carefully in its tube, and said, with a sigh, "if it will but 

 carry." Behold it quantum mutata I What a restless, feverish night 

 it must have had, staring about it with that great green " eye," and 

 tossing off its clothes, its loliage I mean, all over the box. Don't talk 

 to me about " Kean," or " Shakspere" no Rose with either name 

 would ever show itself in such undress when just about to be " staged." 

 Ah, here's another disappointment ! That beautiful bud of some 

 delicate Noisette or Tea, which we trusted would expand en roule to 

 the show, looks more hard-headed than ever, and though we blew into 

 it for a fortnight, would not display its charms. There, you have broken 

 two petals with that ivory implement, and have spoilt your Rose. You 

 may play tricks, my friends, with some of her subjects, but not with 

 the Queen of flowers, so keep your breath for wiser purposes than the 

 attempt to amplify her beauty, and look among your spare Roses for a 

 successor to that unhappy piece of immaturity. 



And, now, all is arranged. .The Rose-grower, with an artist's eye, 

 and with a lady's finger (for those large sunburnt hands of his ever 

 touch a Rose with reverent care and tenderness), has made the most of 

 his flowers, and, stepping back a pace or two, surveys them, well 

 content. Nothing now remains but to "stage" them, and he has long 

 since selected a delightful place, cool, but with a good light upon it. 

 Away he goes, bearing his Roses before him, and meets about a score 

 of his brethren, who have made the same judicious choice of a suitable 

 site for their flowers. It is plain that all cannot have it, unless the 

 boxes are piled one upon the other, and as this might take from the 

 beauty of the exhibition, away they go to the secretary. Behold them 

 crowding around him, carrying their Roses in front, as though they 

 were jewellers, bringing their choicest cases for inspection. And 

 assuredly in his, the secretary's, eyes never were gems so bright and 

 beautiful. A glorious display, but — " What will he do with it? " All 

 is confusion, and yet, in a quarter of an hour, the censors will be here. 

 The tall official, beset by the exhibitors, like a Giraffe run down by 

 bloodhounds, is just beginning to despair, when his trusty knight, Sir 

 John, makes a sharp sally to the rescue, and lo! the disputants disperse 

 — letter H. no longer insists on showing his 12 varieties with letter A's 

 100, but goes quietly off to the place assigned to him, and all ere long is 

 peace. 



Peace, and order, and perfect beauty ! Ofttimes has that spacious 

 room, roused from its normal dreariness (and it is not a cheery 

 chamber, I can tell you, to tread alone at four in the morning), but 

 transformed into a scene of life and brilliance, but never saw such 

 loveliness as this ; for 



" Never yet since, high in Paradise, 

 O'er the four rivers the first Roses blew," 



has the Queen of the Flowers held such a Court. The Pope himself, 

 Pius IX., H.P., attended by Cardinal Patrizzi and the Bishops of 

 Nimes and of Meaux; the {>ld Queen of Denmark, blushing with 

 righteous anger to hear that one of the new Perpetuals has coolly 



