124 MINNESOTA STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



honesty. The poppy is a gorgeous flower at a distance, "but it Is distance 

 that lends enchantment to the view." The lily is the only one that can 

 at all compare with it, hut what a chasm there is between them! Look 

 at the lily fair. I recollect a verse from Bishop Heber's hymn: 



"By cool Siloam's shady rill 



How fair the lily grows; 

 How sweet the breath beneath the hill 



Of Sharon's dewy rose!" 



"Lo, such the child whose early feet 



The paths of peace have trod. 

 Whose secret heart with influence sweet 



Is upwards drawn to God." 



There is nothing said about the fairness of the lily, but it is the sweet- 

 ness of the rose. 



Matthew Arnold tells us that all there is in this world to strive for is 

 sweetness and light, and sweetness and light is just what the rose has, 

 and what it is giving out all around— sweetness and light. The lily 'is 

 beautiful and impassively fair, and is just as cold apparently as the mar- 

 ble. It is too geometrically perfect. Each leaf is just exactly on the 

 same plan as every other. It seems to say, "Everything else stand aside. I 

 want this room; I must have just this place." But the rose is just like 

 the lovely woman that has been referred to here to-night, any place, any 

 position, any shape of leaf, but like that lovely lady, no matter what you 

 give her to make a dress of, she will throw it over her in such graceful 

 folds that it will be becoming and beautiful. 



And, so, whatever shape the rose takes, it is becoming and it is beauti- 

 ful. Of course, there are thorns with every rose. We must have the 

 storm to enable us to appreciate the sunshine. I have not much sym- 

 pathy with Longfellow's man, who was always complaining: 



"The day is cold, and dark, and dreary, 

 It rains and the wind is never weary. 

 The vine still clings to the mouldering wall. 

 But at every gust the dead leaves fall. 

 And the day is dark and dreary. 



"My life is cold, and dark, and dreary, 

 It rains and the wind is never weary. 

 My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past. 

 But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast. 

 And the days are dark and dreary. 



"Be still, sad heart, and cease repining. 

 Behind the clouds is the sun still shining. 

 Thy fate is the common fate of all, 

 Into each life some rain must fall, 



Some days must be dark and dreary." 



President Underwood: I will ask Prof. Hall to respond to 

 ' 'Roses and the Weather". 



