102 A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN. 



death, slowly roasted before the nursery fire by our 

 brother Fred, to spite us. Very pretty are these 

 Pompone roses ; and as at the great poultry-shows 

 there are special classes for the pert, charming, and 

 consequential family of Bantams, so should I like to see 

 at our exhibitions a Liliputian box of these mignons, 

 decreasing in circumference from Ernestine cle Barente 

 to the Banksise. 



And the York and Lancaster, flaunting in its 

 colours, but flimsy in its subtance, like some other 

 gaudy " swells " ! It was a delight, I remember, to 

 arrange its petals, few as beautiful, upon a bit of 

 newspaper, place over them some broken glass 

 (once in a desperate dearth of crystal I attacked an 

 attic window with my battledore, and never since, I 

 give you my honour, do I seem to have done anything 

 half so daring) and to call the consummation a 

 " flower-show." I thought of those rose-leaves and 

 of the broken pane, when it was my privilege to 

 superintend the third national rose-show in the 

 Crystal Palace ; and I murmured to myself very 

 thankfully, very happily, and, I am afraid, very 

 proudly, " The child is father to the man." Poor 

 old York and Lancaster! it has almost succumbed 

 to New Village Maids and (Eillets Parfaits, and to 

 Perles des Panachees and Tricolors of all denomina- 

 tions, and nothing remains to remind us of it now but 

 the Lancashire and Yorkshire Eailway. 



I can but recall, in addition to the varieties I have 

 mentioned, a white rose, whose name I never knew, 

 but which bloomed in beautiful abundance, and much 

 resembled Princesse de Lamballe ; the sweet-brier, 



