2/6 A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. 



no means discreditable, variety. He is physically incapable 

 of festive emotions — "a sad, gloom-pampered man," but a 

 good Rosarian, and a righteous. If a cloud crosses the sun, 

 he shuts up like a gazania or a crocus ; if a few drops of 

 rain fall, he hangs his head like Virgil's poppies, 



" Lassove papavera collo, 

 Demisere caput, pluvia quum forte gravantur." 



He never has the slightest expectation of a prize. He has 

 had more caterpillars, aphides, blights, beetles, and mildews 

 in his garden than ever were seen by man. So he tells you 

 with a slow and solemn tone, looking the while as though, 

 like Mozart composing his own requiem, he listened to 

 some plaintive music. I used to regard him with a tender 

 pity, as being unhappy. I used to sigh — 



' ' Alas for him who never sees 

 The stars shine through his cypress-trees ! " 



But our further acquaintance has convinced me that he has 

 a relish for melancholy. I watched him once, when I knew, 

 but he did not, that he had won a first prize, to see what 

 effect success would have upon him. He came slowly to 

 his Roses, and read the announcement with an expression 

 of profound despair, just as though it had been a telegram 



