GARDEN ROSES. 167 



He must not omit the blushing, fresh, fragrant Pro- 

 vence. It was to many of us the Rose of our childhood, 

 and its delicious perfume passes through the outer sense 

 into our hearts, gladdening them with bright and happy 

 dreams, saddening them with lone and chill awakings. It 

 brings more to us than the fairness and sweet smell of a 

 Rose. We paused in our play to gaze on it, with the touch 

 of a vanished hand in ours, with a father's blessing on our 

 heads, and a mother's prayer that we might never lose our 

 love of the pure and beautiful. Happy they who retain or 

 regain that love ; and thankful am I that, with regard to 

 Roses, the child was father to the man. Yes, I was a 

 Rosarian cBt. vied IV; and in my seventh summer I pre- 

 sided at a " flower-show" — for thus we designated a few 

 petals of this Provence Rose or of some other flower placed 

 behind a piece of broken glass, furtively appropriated when 

 the glazier was at dinner, and cutting, not seldom, our 

 small fingers (retribution swift upon the track of crime), 

 which we backed with newspaper turned over the front as 

 a frame or edging, and fastened from the resources of our 

 natural gums. 



And now, can any of my readers appease Indignation and 



