l']^2. Timothy Hairhrain. 93 



sons, so very disgusting, that they can see nothing 

 else. There is no beauty in this rose they say ; it is 

 altogether an abomination ! — Yes I say they, with 

 Jonah, in a pet, ' we do well to be angry with this 

 thing, even unto death.' 



At last a bold empiric appears, who, like Paracel- 

 sus, pretends to have discovered an infallible cure for 

 this disorder, " Pluck up this rose -by the root, 

 says he. The soil in which it grows is rank and 

 foul, and worn out with age, which occasions those 

 vile prickles tliat distrefs us. Pluck it out by the 

 root, I say, without fear. Trench up the soil on which 

 it grows ; bury deep that vile fat earth which ge- 

 nerates this disease ; and bring up some poor mould 

 from the bottom, in which no noxious weeds will find 

 nourifliment. Then by sprinkling it with a quantum, 

 sufficit of our newly discovered manure, and planting 

 the rose afrelh, after lopping off all its spiny bran- 

 ches, it will spring up with much greater vigour 

 than it ever did before : Its beautiful br^mches will be 

 smooth as a willov/ ; its flowers will be more abun- 

 dant, more fragrant ; and in every respect superior 

 to any thing that ever has been seen in the world. 

 Pluck it up, I say; make haste, — every hour you de- 

 lay is only a lofs of time. I'll answer for the conse- 

 quences. Fear nothing." 



* Nay, nay, says the owner of this fine plant, — not 

 quite so fast friend, if you please. It has required a 

 great attention and many years incefsant care, to bring 

 this plant to its present perfection. The soil, you sec, 

 is perfectly congenial to it ; the climate suitable. It 

 has long resisted storms and hurricanes that have ruined 

 many other plants, that appeared, in their youth, topof- 



