HOW TO SHOW THE ROSE. 253 



clock strike two. Another restless hour, and you are up 

 in the grey dawn. At 3.30 you should be among the Roses, 

 never so lovely as now^ lifting their heads for the first 

 kisses of the sun, and, alas ! for decapitation. See, your 

 gardener is there, keen as yourself. He fills a score of the 

 tubes with pure sweet rain-water ; he places them in one of 

 your spare boxes, and is ready to follow, when, having 

 glanced at your programmes, and armed yourself with 

 the trenchant blades, you lead the way to glory and the 

 Roses. 



Cut first of all your grandest blooms, because no Mede 

 nor Persian ever made law more unalterable than this, The 

 largest Roses must be placed at the baek, the smallest in the 

 front, and the intermediate in the middle of your boxes. They 

 become by this arrangement so gradually, beautifully less, 

 that the disparity of size is imperceptible. Transgress this 

 rule, and the result will be disastrous, ludicrous, as when 

 some huge London carriage-horse is put in harness with the 

 paternal cob, or as when some small but ambitious dancer 

 runs round and round the tallest girl at the ball in the 

 gyrations of the mazy waltz. So Triomphe de Rennes in 

 your front row is a beautiful yellow rose. Placed in juxta- 

 position to Marechal Niel, its name becomes a cruel joke ; 



