250 THE FLORIST. 
years since he who thinks them suggestéd in the pages of the Forist 
a Grand National Rose Show, and thrice he has seen his heart's hope > 
realized, He remembers all the genial aid and sympathy which were 
so promptly and so freely given when he began to verify his plan; the 
kind words of encouragement which came from him to whom first he 
referred for counsel, the “Guide” from whom he learned to be a “ Rose 
amateur,” and now the valued friend; the brotherly co-operation which 
he at once received from a younger writer on the Rose, whose zeal and 
thoughtfulness never flagged; the hearty help tendered by the Mrist ; 
the generous subscriptions promised both by growers for sale and 
amateurs, many of whom volunteered to act as collectors from their 
friends; and all this kindness to a stranger decause he loved the Lose. 
From almost every county, from York to Devon ; from Castle, Hall, 
Rectory, Grange, and Villa; from Scotland, Falkirk to wit; from 
Ireland, over the swate bay of Dublin, and from Glasnevin’s gardens ; 
came friendly fraternal words. The Shamrock and the Thistle sent 
their love to their sweet sister Rose, and 
‘¢ Bid her come forth, 
Suffer herself to be desired, 
And not blush so 
To be admired.” 
All this he remembers thankfully. Then he recalls the eventful 
morning of the first exhibition; his troublesome surmise, what if from 
my ignorance and inexperience all should be a failure; the support and 
courage which he gained from one, who, the general of a hundred floral 
fights, helped him in the Hall of St. James as up the Hill of Sydenham ; 
the happiness which he felt when he saw the Roses arranged in their 
beauty ; and the final and financial triumph, when the British public 
crowded up the stairs, and he knew that the first National Rose Show 
had deserved success and won it. And ‘‘’twas merry in the Hall,” 
my brothers, and your Rose-loving hearts beat high with mine, when 
those cups of silver, thirty and six of them, were distributed among us, 
that we might raise them high, brimful, and oft, pledging right loyally 
our Royal Mistress, and shouting mirthfully, ‘‘ /oreat Regina 
Florum,” and “Vive la Reine des Fleurs !” 
Here I refresh myself with Schweppe, and then, recurring to the 
Pleasures of Memory, I think of our second rosy réunion, which we 
held in the House of Hanover (Square) ; of the grand improvement we 
made by the introduction of Roses in pots, whereby we constructed 
such banks and thrones of beauty as would have charmed Titania’s 
heart; again I behold the auspicious advent of the Queen’s lieges, , 
and pity them, packed like figs, and deafened by our excellent, but too - 
potent, band; and, surveying their sad condensation from above, resolve 
that in our next place of rendezvous there shall be room for all. 
So my reflections bring me to that last happy day at Sydenham, 
when north, south, east and west sent up such an exposition of Roses 
as eye hath not seen since Eden; and more than sixteen thousand 
persons of every grade, from the Duchess of Sutherland (God bless her, 
and keep her, like her roseate synonyme, a “ perpetual bloomer !”) 
downwards, rejoiced in the sunlit scene. 
