242 A BOOK ABOUT ROSES 



material for operation has been equally good ; the 

 modus operandi has been the point of excellence — 

 the artistic effort of the more accomplished horseman 

 has saved him from a dead heat. 



Time was when the exhibitor had good excuse for 

 the introduction of flowers faulty in shape and too 

 much alike in colour. Time was (and I recall it 

 happily, for we vexed not ourselves about that which 

 might be, but delighted our hearts in that which we 

 had) when our dark Roses, such as Boula de Nanteuil, 

 D'Aguesseau, Ohl, and Shakespeare — our pink Roses, 

 such as Comtesse Mole and Las Casas — our white 

 Roses, such as Madame Hardy, — were painfully wide 

 awake when they reached the show, and our collection 

 had ^ eyes' like Argus. We are dismayed now if a 

 Cyclops shows himself, even in our ^ 48.' A marvel- 

 lous development and progress has been made both 

 in the form and complexion of the Rose, and every 

 season brings us new treasures. See what we have 

 gained in these latter years — to the darker varieties 

 we have added such Roses as Alfred Colomb, Alfred 

 Williams, Charles Lefebvre, Comte Raimbaud, Duch- 

 esse de Caylus, Due de Rohan, Duke of Edinburgh, 

 Exposition de Brie, Horace Vernet, Jean Liabaud, 

 Louis Van Houtte, Marie Baumann, Reynolds Hole, 

 Sultan of Zanzibar, and Xavier Olibo ; and to the 

 lighter Baroness Rothschild, Captain Christy, Duch- 



