ALFRED de DALMAS—Delicate—Charming—Ever-blooming. 
@5he Moss GRoses 
“The angel of the flowers one day, beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay. 
That spirit in whose charge is given, to bathe young buds in dews from heaven. 
Awakening from his light repose, the angel whispered to the rose— 
‘Oh, fondest object of my care, still Pres found where all are fair, 
For the sweet shade thow’st given to me, ask what thou wilt ‘tis granted thee.’ 
Then said the rose, with deepest glow, ‘On me another grace bestow,’ 
The spirit paused in silent thought. What grace was there that flower had not? 
Twas but a moment, o’er the rose a veil of moss the angel throws; 
And, robed in nature’s simplest weed, can there a flower that rose exceed?” 
We hope that those of you who have received the earlier 
editions will continue to forgive our repetitions—for we think 
the majority of new readers will enjoy this characteristic bit 
of good writing, by the famous English clergyman and 
leading rosarian.of his day, Dean Hole . . . From his ‘Book 
About Roses,” 1869,— 
.. . It is, nevertheless, as true an incident in my history as it may be 
a strange statement in the reader's ears, that once upon a time hard on 
fifty summers since, I was driven out of London by a Rose! And thus it 
came to pass: Early in June, that period of the year which tries, I think, 
more that any other, the patience of the Rosarian waiting in his garden, 
and vexing his fond heart with idle fears, I was glad to have a valid excuse 
for spending a few days in town. To town I went, transacted my business, 
saw the pictures, heard an opera, wept my annual tear at a tragedy, 
visited the Nurseries, rode in the Park, met old friends, and was beginning 
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