232 MINNESOTA STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



'"The rose," he sang, "is either red or pale, 



Like maidens when the flame of passion burns, 

 And love or jealousy controls, by turns. 

 Its buds are lips preparing for a kiss; 

 Its open flowers are like the blush of bliss 

 On lovers' cheeks; the thorns its armor are; 

 And in its center shines a golden star. 

 As on a favorite's cheek a sequin glows: 

 And thus the garden's favorite is the rose." 



This pleased the host and from his open basket he shook the roses 

 on Hassan's head. 



Then there is a beautiful story of the orign of the moss rose. The 

 ang-el of the flowers one day lay sleeping beneath a rose tree and on 

 waking-, feeling grateful for its protecting shade, he whispered to 

 to the rose: 



"O. fondest object of my care. 



Still fairest found, where all are fair; 

 For the sweet shade thou giv'st me 



Ask wliat thou wilt; tis granted thee. 

 Then, said the rose, with deepened glow. 

 On me another grace bestow. 



The spirit paused in silent, thought. — 

 What grace was there that flower had not? 



'Twas but a moment.— o'er the rose 

 A veil of moss the angel throws. 



And, robed in nature's simplest weed, 

 Could there a flower that rose exceed?" 



In conclusion, shall we saj^ with Shakespeare, "What's in a name, 

 that we call a rose by any other would smell as sweet?" Happily, 

 man does not live by his olfactory nerves alone, and, though the 

 smell might remain, yet we can hardly divorce our delight in this 

 beautiful flower from its natne; and we protest against the florists 

 uniting with it uneuphonious names. Who would be attracted, for 

 instance, by the name "Cabbage" rose, or be impelled to send for it 

 on seeing its name in a catalogue? We cannot denj', with Brown- 

 ing, that "any nose may ravage with impunity a rose," but we do 

 assert that there is much in a name and protest ag-ainst the use of 

 unpoetical, unapproi)riate names with this ,our favorite flower. 



With Thomas Hood we say, 



The lil.v is all in white like a saint. 

 And so is no mate for me; 



And the daisy's cheek is tipped with a blush. 

 She is of such low degree; 



Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves. 

 And the broom's betrotlied to the bee; — 



But I will plight with the dainty rose, 

 For fairest of all is she." 



A RECITATION.— "WHAT IS SO RARE AS A DAY IX JUNE?" 

 By Miss Dixie Smith, Minneapolis. 

 It was most appropriate that the beautiful prelude to Lowell's 

 "Vision of Sir Launfal" should be given on this occasion, and the 

 company very much enjoj'ed Miss Smith's rendering, as with clear 

 and pleasant voice she brought out its store of rich thought and 

 fiofure. 



