256 THE FLORIST. 



THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A POT-ROSE. 

 Chap. III. 



I AWAKE TEMPERATURE OF FORCING-HOUSE GREEN-FLY MILDEW 



1 BLOOM STAND FOR MY PORTRAIT I BLOOM AGAIN AM 



SHIFTED FUTURE PROSPECTS. 



Heigh-ho ! Where am I, and what has been the meaning of so 

 much bustle, of which I have a somewhat indistinct though, certain 

 recollection ? Ah ! now I understand it all. I have been half asleep, 

 and am only awakened to a state of thorough consciousness by the 

 playing of a shower of milk- warm water over my naked branches. It 

 was a frosty morning in January ; my winter had already passed ; I 

 was in the forcing-house ; John was using the syringe, and a moist 

 genial warmth rose from the pipes as some few drops of water fell 

 upon them. The wind was blowing keenly from without, and the 

 snow was trying hard to find some crevice through which to enter, 

 as if seeking shelter from the driving blast. But in vain. John held 

 the maxim that " what was worth doing at all was worth doing 

 well •," and he saw with satisfaction from within that he had proved 

 more than a match for frost and snow, — they were excluded, and I 

 was safe. 



Not to mislead my readers, or lay myself open to a charge of 

 egotism, I may perhaps be allowed to say that I was not alone; my 

 companions were various : there were the bashful Moss, the sturdy 

 Hybrid Chinese, the fragrant Hybrid Perpetual, the clustering 

 Noisette, the ever-blooming Bourbon, and the delicate-coloured Tea- 

 scented, of various shades, all ready to spring into life and beauty ; 

 but as it is enough to tell one's own tale, I shall merely relate what 

 pertains to myself. It was still winter (January) with the Roses out 

 of doors, but spring had commenced with me ; the temperature of 

 the forcing-house in which I had been placed was 50° by day and 

 about 40° by night. It was not, however, suffered to remain long 

 at this point ; gradually the heat was raised 10°, and the syringe 

 was used every morning, sparingly if the weather was damp, and 

 freely if sunny ; and in some rare instances, if the day happened to 

 be calm and genial, a little air was admitted for an hour or so. 

 When my first leaves expanded, I was indulged with a little weak 

 liquid manure, and this was increased in strength and quantity as 

 my leaves grew and multiplied. The house was swept out at least 

 twice a week ; for another of John's maxims was, that " cleanliness 

 was next to godliness ;" and every thing around me was so neat and 

 comfortable, that I began to think I had arrived at the summit of 

 plant-happiness, when suddenly there came, from where I know 

 not, a minute insect, the colour of my leaf, which caused me great 



