270 A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. 



an objectionably large Pierre Notting obtrudes it- 

 self upon his vision, and his heart fails him. He 

 steps, as it were, from the warm stove, gay with 

 orchids, into the ice-house of chill despair. He 

 is much too anxious and excited to form any 

 just conclusions ; and therefore, to engage his 

 thoughts more pleasantly, I will introduce him to 

 his co-exhibitors. 



Viewed abstractedly, these co-exhibitors are 

 genial, generous, intelligent — men of refined taste 

 and reverent feelings, with the freshness of a gar- 

 den and the freedom of the country about their 

 looks and ways. Viewed early in the morning, as 

 the novice sees them now, they are a little dingy, 

 without the freshness of the garden upon them, 

 but with something very like its soil. Some have 

 not been in bed since yester-night ; not one has 

 slept his usual sleep. Many have come from 

 afar : — 



" They have travelled to our Rose-show 

 From north, south, east, and west. 

 By rail, by roads, with precious loads 

 Of the flower they love the best : 



From dusk to dawn, through night to morn, 



They've dozed 'mid clank and din, 

 And woke with cramp in both their legs 



And bristles on their chin." 



