1/2 A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. 



French white — i.e., EngHsh white with a slight suffusion of 

 pink ; Comte Plater and Comtesse de Segur are of a soft 

 buff or cream colour, the latter a well-shaped Rose ; Prin- 

 cesse Clementine is a rara avis in terris, but not a bit like 

 unto a black swan, being one of our best white Roses ; and 

 Rose Devigne is large and beautiful and blushing. These 

 Roses, having long and vigorous shoots, should not be 

 severely cut, or they will resent the insult by " running to 

 wood" — excessive lignification, as I once heard it termed, 

 and burst out laughing, to the intense disgust of the 

 speaker. 



And now I am not entirely exempt from the fear, that 

 with some such similar derision the reader may receive 

 a fact which I propose to submit to him. It is, neverthe- 

 less, as true an incident in my history as it may be a 

 strange statement in his ears, that, once upon a time, some 

 nine or ten summers since, I was driven out of London by 

 a Rose ! And thus it came to pass : Early in June, that 

 period of the year which tries, I think, more than any 

 other, the patience of the Rosarian, waiting in his garden 

 like some lover for his Maud, and vexing his fond heart 

 with idle fears, I was glad to have a valid excuse for 

 spending a few days in town. To town I went, transacted 



