FIRST FIGHT IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES. 205 



I was roused at last from my slumber, " awaking 

 with a start," like Byron dreaming of his child; and 

 I emerged as suddenly from darkness to light as a 

 midday express from a tunnel. Having small belief 

 in instantaneous conversions, I must nevertheless 

 confess that on this occasion I met with a missionary, 

 who immediately induced me to acknowledge and 

 renounce the ignorance of many years, and voluntarily 

 and heartily to enrol myself in a brotherhood, of which 

 up to this moment I knew nothing, the happy brother- 

 hood of Florists. Many a glad summer have I passed, 

 and many a high festival have I kept since then, with 

 that most worshipful company, but I ever remember 

 vividly, as though it were yesternight, the hour and 

 scene, 



" A goodly place, a goodly time," 



when once again my dear love of flowers, dormant 

 for so many dreary years, bloomed in my thankful 

 heart. I know the spot to a yard where one 

 summer's eve I met the missionary who revived that 

 .love, and the missionary's name was Rose.* 



It stopped, it startled me. Did you ever, my reader, 

 in early childhood betroth yourself to some tiny 

 damsel, solemnly designate her your "little wifey," 

 and swear eternal love ? And was it your destiny 

 again to meet her, after an absence of some half- 

 score years, no longer a child, with traces of jam on 

 her small pinafore, but 



* See p. 108. 



