SUMMER’S LEASE 
73 
its faults, and admit them freely. To be sure, the 
experts’ indictments are absolutely true, there is no 
denying them; the long, gaunt stems race up, leafless 
and ungracious to the summit, whatever that may be, 
of wall or trellis. But, once arrived there, with what 
exquisite beauty are those awkward brambles clothed. 
Perfect of scent and form, in tone and colour neigh¬ 
bouring a faintly rose-flushed pearl, to know it is 
certainly to love it, and instantly to overlook its eccen¬ 
tricities, were they twice as many or as great. It is at 
its best, of course, in bud, for the fully opened flower, 
delightful as it is, loses that implicit loveliness which 
informs the folded petals with the faint blush of a pink 
pearl above, and, at the base, a dim, an almost indis¬ 
tinguishable stain of green. In bud, too, it breathes a 
perfume as subtle as its hue; one’s sole regret on 
looking on it is that a thing of such absolute perfectness 
should last so brief a time. But perhaps that also is 
part and parcel of the charm. 
Apart from such arrant favouritism as this, I think 
my fancy leans more particularly towards the fair tribes 
of the Noisettes and the Hybrid Teas than to any other 
group. They are hardy, they are generous, and, as I 
wander to and fro in my blossoming garden of roses, a 
score of happy instances illuminate my way and justify 
my preference. Here, for example, glow those hues of 
ivory and peach that flush the rounded cheeks of Grace 
Darling, fitly neighboured by the nymph-like Madame 
Gabriel Luizet with its silver-tinted pink petals most 
daintily imbricated. While among these hundreds of 
flower-faces that claim the tribute of a glance there are 
