ISO A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. 



charred and tarred, and driven deep into the 

 ground, and looking from the first so very rustic 

 and natural. The Rose-trees grew luxuriantly, 

 and for three or four summers I esteemed myself 

 invincible in the game of pyramids. Then one 

 night there came heavy rain, attended by a hurri- 

 cane, and when I went out next morning, two of 

 my best trees were lying flat upon the ground, 

 with their roots exposed (the poles, having de- 

 cayed near the surface, had snapped suddenly) ; 

 and several others were leaning like the tower at 

 Pisa or the spire of Chesterfield Church, some 

 hopelessly displaced, and others deformed and 

 broken. Fallen, and about to fall, they looked as 

 though their liquid manure had been mixed too 

 strong for them, and had made them superla- 

 tively drunk. Shortly afterwards I had another 

 disaster, caused by a similar decay — the top of a 

 pole, in which two iron arches met each other, 

 giving way to a boisterous wind, and so causing a 

 divorcement between Brennus and Adelaide 

 d'Orleans, long and lovingly united. I would 

 therefore advise, not dwelling upon other disad- 

 vantages resulting from the use of wood — such as 

 the production of fungi, and the open house 

 which it provides for insects — that the supports 

 for Pillar Roses be of iron. Neatly made and 



