26 A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. 



I felt ashamed to think how httle I had done, and how 

 much more such men would do, with my larger leisure and 

 more abundant means. But when I reached the station and 

 entered my carriage, I was roused from my reverie by a 

 loud and prolonged " Oh ! " which greeted rne from five of 

 my acquaintances, as though I had been an asteroid rocket, 

 which had just burst, and the Roses were my coruscant 

 stars : and I was beginning to regain my self-complacency, 

 and to find solace in the remark of one of my neighbours, 

 who, I knew, had glass by the acre and gardeners in troops, 

 that " they were the first Roses he had seen this year," 

 when I was again discomfited by the insolent behaviour of 

 the company — on this wise. To an inquiry from what 

 garden the Roses came, I responded, in all truthfulness, 

 " Chiefly from a bricklayer's." Whereupon an expressive 

 sneer of unbelief disfigured each stolid countenance ; and a 

 solemn silence ensued, which said, nevertheless, as plainly as 

 though it were shouted, "We don't admire tomfoolery." I col- 

 lapsed at once into my corner, sulking behind my big bou- 

 quet, and looking, I fear, very like the Beast when he first 

 showed himself among the Roses to Beauty ; nor did I quite 

 regain my equanimity until, reaching homiC, I had written 

 and posted an order for an assortment of Roses in pots. 



