294 FROM A MIDDLESEX GARDEN 



morning (December I2th), our first bunch of Christmas 

 Roses has been gathered. This flower must, I think, be dear 

 to every one with a heart for flowers. Its expression is so full 

 of innocence and freshness for it is not only human persons 

 who have expression in their faces ! and then the charm of its 

 myrtle-like stamens and clear-cut petals snow cold to the 

 touch and its pretty way of half hiding among the dark 

 leaves, always ready to be found when sought, and always 

 with so many more blossoms than had been hoped for ! To 

 some, indeed, the associations bound up with the Christmas 

 Rose, with every dear sound of its name, may be dearer than 

 all its outward loveliness; recalling, perhaps, the home and 

 garden of their childhood, and happy Christmases of long 

 ago ; * the old familiar faces/ and tones of the voices that are 

 gone." 



If few are the flowers, and limited the bird-life of the 

 December garden, it is nevertheless a garden of memories. 



