THE YOUNG 



NATUEALTST. 



173 



white cabbage rose was adopted as the 

 cognisance of the ill-starred Stuart race 

 after the union of the crowns, and the 

 loyal Jacobites cherished the emblem 

 of their leader long after — 



" The Whigs came like a frost in June 



And withered a' their posies." 



Although the memory of boimie Prince 

 Charlie is now well nigh forgotten, the 

 white rose is even yet a frequent and 

 favourite flower in old-fashioned Scot- 

 tish gardens, a memorial of the time 

 when — 



" They proudly wore the milk-white rose 



For him they loved so dear ; 

 And gave their sons to Charlie, 



The young Chevalier." 



Like many other plants, the rose 

 was used as a divining flower by 

 anxious sweethearts to foretell the 

 constancy of their admirers. Gathered 

 with mysterious rites on Midsummer\s 

 Eve, and carefully Jaid aside till New 

 Year's morning, if the petals retained 

 their crimson hue, so would the lover^s 

 affections prove true ; but if the colours 

 were faded, alas ! for fleeting hopes 

 and vanished joys. It is also an ill 

 omen for a rose to fall to pieces in 

 one's hand. Few flowers have a wider 

 range of use in decorations : they are 

 welcomed at weddings, festivals, and 

 funerals. They were largely used at 

 the obsequies of the ancient Greeks, 

 who strewed the graves with roses to 

 protect the remains of the deceased. 

 The Eomans perpetuated the custom, 

 and old historians tell how thickly 

 planted English graveyards used to be 



with rosebushes. A white rose is con- 

 sidered an appropriate flower to plant 

 on a maiden's tomb, although it is 

 unlucky to throw roses into an open 

 grave. 



A pretty legend ascribes the origin 

 of the universally admired moss-rose 

 to the angel of flowers, whose loving 

 care watches over those frao'ile denizens 

 of earth. One day he slept under a 

 rose-bush and was so pleased with his 

 bower that he asked the rose what 

 favour he could confer on her. She 

 timidly asked another grace to be 

 added to her charms. Puzzled to per- 

 form so difficult a feat, at length he 

 threw a veil of moss around the blusli- 

 iDg beauty, and hence we have the in- 

 comparable moss-rose, which to praise 

 would be as futile as difficult to paint. 

 In the language of flowers the rose is 

 the emblem of love, but in modern 

 times the vocabulary has become so 

 extended that almost every variety is 

 the symbol of a different sentiment. 

 To the poet it is invaluable : no flower 

 has furnished him with more similes 

 or metaphors. Every lover sees re- 

 flected in its beauty the image of liis 

 mistress. Our favourite Burns with 

 charming naivety sings, — 



" O, my love is like a red, red rose 

 That's newly sprung in June." 



And again :— 



" O were my love yon red, red rose, 

 That grows upon yon castle wa'. 



And I mysel a drap o' dew 

 Within her lovely breast to fa'." 



