116 A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN. 



" rosea rura," the nightingale alights breathless in 

 his bower of roses ; and \ve will moderate our pace 

 now, if you please, and pitch our note an octave 

 lower. 



But we follow, though more slowly, the same 

 route ; the refrain of our song may not be changed, 

 Rose est Bonheur, the rose is happiness ! 



For duration, in the next place, what flower dare 

 upraise her head to dispute the supremacy of the 

 rose? "Gather ye roses while ye may," says old 

 Herrick ; and with us rose-growers is it not almost 

 " always May " ? From that month to December 

 at all events, from the first blooms of the charming 

 Banksiae, of Gloire de Dijon, climbing Devoniensis 

 and Marechal Neil, on our warm south walls, until 

 the last Giant of Battles must yield to Jack (the 

 Giant-killer) Frost we subjects of Queen Bosa may 

 wear in our button-holes "of loyalty this token true." 

 Whatsoever the weather in the intermediate months, 

 however " deformed by sullen rains " or by con- 

 tinuous drought, a rose-tree, in good health to begin 

 with, will have its bloom sooner or later; and, 

 because different seasons suit different sorts, some 

 trees in the rosarium will ever assume for our 

 delectation their most perfect phase of beauty. 



Consider, too, not only their diversity of colour 

 and if you wish for special examples of this compare 

 Marechal Neil with Duke of Edinburgh, or the 

 Niphetos with Xavier Olibo but also their diversity 

 of form. You may grow the rose in a thumb-pot, 

 with a flower " in shape no bigger than an agate-stone 

 on the fore-finger of an alderman," or you may cover 



