AT A ROSE-SHOW. 2/1 



*' PtUvis ct umbra sut/iiisf" they sigh — we are all 

 over dust and shady. They are like Melrose Ab- 

 bey — sunhght does not suit them. *'The gg.y 

 beams of lightsome day " are not becoming to 

 countenances long estranged from pillow, razor, 

 and tub. They have come to meet the Queen of 

 Flowers, as Mephibosheth to meet King David, 

 not having dressed his feet, or trimmed his beard, 

 or washed his clothes from the day the king de- 

 parted. And this reminds me that we, the cleri- 

 cal contingent, appear upon these occasions es- 

 pecially dishevelled and dim. Sydney Smith 

 would undoubtedly say that we ''seemed to have 

 a good deal of glebe upon our own hands." In the 

 thick dust upon our black coats you might write 

 or draw distinctly; — (I once saw traced upon the 

 back of a thirsty florist, of course a layman — to 

 be kept d7y : this side up) ; and our white ties — 



" Qui color albus erat, nunc est contrarius albo" — 



are dismally limp and crumpled. The bearded 

 brethren remind one of St. Angus, of whom we 

 read that, perspiring and unwashed, he worked in 

 his barn until the scattered grain took root and 

 grew on him. 



By-and-by, when the exhibition is open to the 

 public, we shall be as spruce as our neighbors, 



