SOILS. 75 



where Orchids and stove plants, and even those hard- 

 wooded inmates of the greenhouse which so thoroughly 

 test the plantsman's skill — those Ericas, for example, 

 which come indeed from the Cape of Good Hope, but 

 too often bring dark despair — were all in admirable con- 

 dition, and have been told, as I stood upon soil the facsimile 

 of my own, and better, " We can't grow Roses." There is 

 only one reply, — "You won't." 



Because I know that Roses may be grown to perfection 

 in the ordinary garden soil, if they have such a position as 

 I have described in the preceding chapter, and if that soil 

 is cultivated — I don't mean occasionally tickled with a rake, 

 or sprinkled with manure from a pepper-box, but thoroughly 

 drained, and dug, and dunged. I am not theorising, nor 

 playing the game of speculation with my readers — not 

 writing from a fertile soil, regardless of the difficulties of 

 others, like the Irish absentee, who, dating from his cosy 

 club in London, thus addressed his agent in a dangerous, 

 disaffected district — " Don't let them think that, by shoot- 

 ing you, they will at all intimidate me;" but I have 

 proved that which I preach in practice. Upon two soils 

 as different from each other as soils can be, though only 

 separated by a narrow stream, I have grown Roses which 



