whose exploits loomed so largely in the precepts of our nursery days, we can produce studies 

 that are not only a great joy in the making, but that are sufficiently inspired with the glory 

 of the original to cause delight and enthusiasm when the fleeting, transitory charm of our floral 

 models has long since faded awa}'. 



Roses are my favourite flowers, and I always enjoy painting them more than any other 

 variety. Perhaps their verj' difficulties add to their charm, for their opening petals are 

 constantly revealing some fresh beauty. I may temporarily waver in my allegiance, perhaps, 

 when I bury my face in the cool fragrance of the first bunch of dewy violets to greet the spring, 

 or when the warm rich colour and variet)' of the chrj'santhemums bring brightness into dreary 

 November days. But, after all. Queen Rose reigns supreme ; the lovely blue violet lacks the 

 variety of the rose, and the chrysanthemum (a close rival as regards colouring and variety) has 

 a curious aromatic scent of its own, not disagreeable, but totally lacking the delightful 

 fragrance clinging to rose petals, long after their mere beauty has passed away. 



We have adopted the rose as our national flower, and in English hearts she will ever be 



