120 



THE ROSE GARDEN. 



No. 31. 



No. 32. 



-<! /^n 



Then the White Roses first show, and how inexpressibly pure they seem in the 

 twilight The deener tints -the blush, the pink, the rose- follow m rapid suc- 

 cession ; and as darkness flies away the crimson and the blacker lines rise in rich 

 effulgence to complete the picture. How beautiful the foliage appears g hstening 

 with & dew ! The flowers, too, are rife with freshness and beauty. Is there not 

 life in every fold ? And what a delicious odour is borne on the surrounding air . 

 As we gaze and admire there is little to disturb our meditations; the warblings 

 of the feathered choristers alone break in upon the slumbering scene. Here is 

 the consummation of our hopes in Rose-culture. And what a recompence for the 

 toil we have sustained ! Do we not feel as we admire, that 



" Nature never did betray 



The heart that lov'd her : 'tis her privilege, 



Through all the years of this our life, to lead 



From joy to joy." 

 Next to the morning's walk in the Rosarium a ramble at eventide is, perhaps, 



