54 THE ROSE BOOK 



being unable to cover their nakedness, nobody knows ; 

 but if this be the case (and why should not roses have 

 some sense of modesty ?), then some possess much more 

 proper (or improper) pride than others. 



A well-grown standard is a most attractive object, 

 and, if the roses only knew it (some of them apparently 

 do), the bare stem adds greatly to its charm, for it holds 

 up the living posy of leaves and flowers for all to admire. 

 But none can have patience with a sulky standard. A 

 miserable bush rose is bad enough, but a wayward 

 standard, itself unhappy, makes its possessor unhappier 

 still. There is nothing more depressing than a standard 

 that stands, because it cannot help itself, but refuses 

 to grow ; the cold shoulder in the shape of the rubbish 

 heap, is all it deserves, and to which it must eventually 

 come. I am sure that the reader has discovered by now 

 that by an ordinary standard I mean a non-climbing 

 rose budded on a stem about four feet high, as distin- 

 guished from a climbing rose budded on a taller stem 

 that forms a weeping standard. I wonder if the roses 

 that fail on four-foot stems would thrive any the better 

 on higher ones. Some of them do on lower ones, as I 

 shall show. 



Even when lucky enough to obtain really fine stand- 

 ards, lots of people spoil them by placing them wrongly. 

 It has always been the fashion, and probably always will 

 be (so conservative are the devotees of gardening), to 

 arrange standard roses in a row on each side of the 

 garden path. When the path winds in graceful curves, 

 such an arrangement is permissible, but — or so it seems 



