60 



A CHAPTER ON ROSES. 



not complete the claims of the rose to in- 

 finity, as far as any plant can express that 

 quality, then are we no metaphysician. 



There is certainly something instinc- 

 tive and true in that favorite fancy of the 

 poets — that roses are the type or symbol 

 of female loveliness — 



" Know you not our only 



Rival flower — the human? 

 Loveliest weight, on lightest foot — 



Joy-abundant woman," 



sings Leigh Hunt for the roses. And, we 

 will add, it is striking and curious that refined 

 and careful culture has the same effect on 

 the outward conformation of the rose that 

 it has on feminine beauty. The tea and 

 the bourhon roses may be taken as an illus- 

 tration of this. They are the last and 

 finest product of the most perfect culture of 

 the garden ; and do they not, in their 

 graceful and airy forms, their subdued and 

 bewitching odors, and their refined and 

 delicate colours, body forth the most perfect 

 symbol of the most refined and cultivated 

 Imogen or Ophelia that it is possible to 

 conceive? We claim the entire merit of 

 pointing this out, and leave it for some poet 

 to make himself immortal by ! 



There are odd, crotchetty persons among 

 horticulturists, who correspond to old bache- 

 lors in society, that are never satisfied to 

 love anything in particular, because they 

 have really no affections of their own to fix 

 upon any object, and who are always, for 

 instance, excusing their want of devotion 

 to the rose, under the pretence, that among 

 so many beautiful varieties it is impossible 

 to choose. 



Undoubtedly there is an embarras de rich- 

 esses in the multitude of beautiful varieties 

 that compose the groups and subdivisions of 

 the rose family. So many lovely forms and 

 colours are there, dazzling the eye, and 

 attracting the senses, that it requires a man 

 or woman of nerve as well as taste, to 



decide and select. Some of the great rose 

 growers continually try to confuse the poor 

 amateur by their long catalogues, and by 

 their advertisements about " acres of roses." 

 (Mr. Paul, an English nurseryman, pub- 

 lished, in June last, that he had 70,000 

 plants in bloom at once !) This is puzzling 

 enough, even to one that has his eyes wide 

 open, and the sorts in full blaze of beauty 

 before them. What, then, must be the 

 quandary in which the novice, not yet in- 

 troduced into the aristocracy of roses, whose 

 knowledge only goes up to a "cabbage- 

 rose," or a " maiden's blush," and who has 

 in his hand a long list of some great 

 collector — what, we say, must be his per- 

 plexity, when he suddenly finds himself 

 amidst all the renowned names of old and 

 new world's history, all the aristocrats and 

 republicans, heroes and heroines of past and 

 present times, — Napoleon, Prince Ester- 

 hazy, Tippoo Saib, Semiramis, Duchess of 

 Sutherland, Princesse Clementine, with 

 occasionally such touches of sentiment from 

 the French rose growers, as Souvenir cfun 

 Ami, or Nid d'* Amour, (nest of love !) &c. 

 &c. In this whirlpool of rank, fashion, 

 and sentiment, the poor novitiate rose- 

 hunter is likely enough to be quite wreck- 

 ed ; and instead of looking out for a ^er- 

 feet rose, it is a thousand to one that he finds 

 himself confused amid the names of prin- 

 ces, princesses and lovely duchesses, a vivid 

 picture of whose charms rises to his ima- 

 gination as he reads the brief words "pale 

 flesh, wax-like, superb," or "large, perfect 

 form, beautiful," or " pale blush, very pret- 

 ty ;" so that it is ten to one that Duchess- 

 es, not Roses, are all the while at the bot- 

 tom of his imagination ! 



Now, the only way to help the rose 

 novices out of this difficulty, is for ail the 

 initiated to confess their favorites. No doubli 

 it will be a hard task for those who haye 



