From

the refreshments to which I have referred. bird or beast, bovine, ovine, porcine, equine, animal or vegetable, dust or bone or barley, I recommend all to your experiment, and leave to you the selection of the fittest.

But the young rosarian must not place his main reliance on these enrichments, beneficial, indispensable, as they are- O formose puer, nimium ne crede manure heap but must regard his soil and its cultivation as of primary and perpetual importance. Success in rose culture can only be attained in accordance with the universal and eternal law-you must work. There must be draining and digging, hoeing and weeding, and a watchful loving patience, which defends the Rose from its enemies, as well as surrounds it with friends. Hence the paucity of rosarians worthy of the title. There are numbers who gush at shows, take down names, give orders, plant rose trees, but who never stoop to pull up a weed, and as for extracting the grub from his leafy bower and handling him somewhat severely between finger and thumb, why that is "simply disgusting!' These are the sort of people who think when they have signed a cheque that roses should immediately spring up around them about the size of punch-bowls, and that thankful nightingales should sing in them night and day. Somehow this firework won't go off. He who would grow roses must not be afraid of dirtying his fingers of resembling that clergyman of whom Sydney Smith said, that he "seemed to have a good deal of his glebe on his own hands; " or of a likeness to Martin Burney, to whom Charles

Lamb remarked over a rubber, "Oh, Martin, Martin, if dirt were trumps, what a hand you'd have!"

Where shall we buy our rose trees? From any extensive rose nursery which is nearest to you, and has a soil most like your own, or from any of those professional rosarians who have shown you what the Rose can be. I say can be, because you must not expect to achieve perfection at once, and your first flowers may perhaps disappoint you. Only be not discouraged; work at your model bravely, and you shall reproduce it.

And I advise amateurs to visit some of the renowned homes of the Rose. They will find a far more genial welcome than the mere commercial spirit can give to a customer, because the hearts of our rose merchants, whose friendship I have enjoyed for so many happy years, are with the Rose; and they will learn more as pupils, and please themselves more completely as purchasers, than by any amount of reading or correspondence.

And, on behalf of these visitors, may I express the hope that my professional brothers will take into consideration whether, in addition to their standard and dwarf rose trees, they might not exhibit the Queen of Flowers in some other form of beauty, showing us, for example, the best varieties of climbing and pillar roses, roses for a shrubbery, roses for beds, uniform or in contrast, roses for edging, roses for bouquets, etc.

The National Rose Society, of which I have the honour to be President, or, as Mr. Swiveller would describe the office, "Perpetual Grand," has done

much to extend the enjoyment of "Roses not suitable for Exhibition," by publishing a selection of the best, and by giving prizes for specimens; but it would be a further gain if we could see established plants at the nurseries to guide us as to their adaptation and position in our own gardens.

XVII.

MY VERSES.

God help our Men at Sea! - Peace A Tale of Pride and Punishment-Waiting at Table.

CONFIDING in your gentle indulgence, anxious to make the most of myself that I may win your approbation, "I give thee all, I can no more, though poor the offering be," I appear before you now as a Poet. I cannot say that I am lost in admiration, when I regard myself in the capacity of a Bard. I am unable to observe in my features any resemblance to "the Poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling," and when I compare my dedications to the Muse with those of more accomplished votaries, I am constrained to regard them as shabby. Nevertheless, I have had success, and I therefore venture to hope for the specimens, which I now introduce to you, some echoes, however faint, of the kind words which were spoken of them by our English critics. (By Mr. Thackeray, for example, of verses published in the Cornhill Magazine, of which he was editor, and entitled "Mabel.")1

Some verses, which began with "God help our men at sea," were first published in Once a Week and were transferred to other publications, including those of our Royal National Life-Boat Institution.

1 See The Memories of Dean Hole, chap. vii.

GOD help our men at sea!

In firelit, pictured rooms, 'mid wine and flowers,

And gleesome company,

The wild winds awe us, in our blithest hours,

To sigh this prayer;

And, lonely, with clench'd hands, at night 'tis ours, "Lord of the waves, O spare!"

God help our men at sea!

I had a brother once.

In its intensity.

Our love ne'er failed

Smiling on our sweet mother, as he sailed,

I saw him last.

Ah me! how that sweet mother droop'd and paled,

Ere one brief year was past!

God help our men at sea!

They saw him, who outlived that deathful night,
In his extremity,

Kneeling, and looking in the stormfire's light

To Heaven for grace.

And angels' glory was upon him, bright

As upon Stephen's face.

God help our men at sea!

Those pilgrim fathers, who leave all to teach

Their Saviour's charity.

Stretch forth Thine hand, O gracious Lord, to reach

The soul dismayed;

Walk o'er the waves, and let them hear Thy speech, ""Tis I; be not afraid."

God help our men at sea!

The workers, who at home can find no spheres

For work, whose poverty

Drives from their birthland, strong, despite those tears,

To toil and win;

And then, please God, return for peaceful years

To their old home and kin.