66 



A BOOK ABOUT ROSES 



the time had come when we ought to retire from the 

 service. That gust, which caused the light to flicker 

 in our grand chandehers and lamps, all but blew out 

 for ever our rush-lights and farthing dips. 



It was but a gust and a surprise. ' It was a 

 moment's fantasy, and as such it has passed.' Those 

 generals, whose eyes blinked for a second as they 

 read of the superior powers of Hereford, have since 

 won glorious victories, each for his shire. 



There are no duties upon sunshine, there are no 

 monopolies in air ; and there are thousands of acres, 

 both sides the Border, as genial for the Rose as the 

 King's by Hereford — nurseries and gardens in every 

 part of Victoria's realm, from which Mr. Cranston, or 

 any other man, with his fondness for the flower and 

 persevering skill in its culture, may grow it in all its 

 glory. 



But idleness and ignorance will not believe it. 

 Dwelling in a land of Roses, in a land where the 

 woods and lanes and hedges are clothed at summer- 

 tide with Roses, they prefer the stolid conviction 

 that the stars in their courses fight against them, 

 that meteorology and geology are their bitter foes. 

 Look over your garden wall with a beautiful Rose 

 in your coat, and your neighbour, loitering with his 

 hands in his pockets, knee-deep in groundsel, amid 

 his beds undrained, undug, will sigh from the depths 



