T A K E a hot schoolboy into a fruiterer's shop, where the cheeks of the Peach and the Quarrenden Pippin are glowing like his own, where the bloom still lingers upon Grape and Plum, and where the "Good Christian" Pear of Williams (would that all who assure us of their sanctity were as free from sourness, as fruitful, melting, and juicy!) yields to his inquiring thumb. Bid him survey the scene, a pomological Selkirk, and then proceed to fruition. Or take young Philippos, a few years older, to some great mart of horses. Introduce him to the proprietor, with his pleasant smiling face, ruddy (from early rising, doubtless), his cheek and chin close shaven (few men nowadays shave so closely), hair clipped like his horses', fox galloping over bird's-eye neckerchief, cutaway coat with gilt buttons, and drab adhesive pants. Let him hear how this generous, guileless man has collected, without regard to toil or money, the best horses in all Europe, solely for the pleasure of distributing them at nominal prices among his favourites and friends. Oh, ecstasy! "the young gentleman" is permitted to know that he is himself a member of that blissful band - a Knight of Arthur's table.

The good dealer has "just such another young 'un of his own," and will forthwith exhibit to his counterpart a splendid series of steeds, on which his lad has won the principal steeple-chases, and led the clipping-est runs of the season. How their coats shine as the neat clothing glides smoothly from their glossy quarters ! How they snort as they leave their stalls! How proudly they elevate (I disdain that puny monosyllable, cock) their trim-cut, well-combed tails, and how genially the good dealer whispers to the young gentleman, with a kindly nudge and wink, "that's about all you'll let the field see of him, if you buys him, and gets a start." And suppose at this juncture you also whisper in the other ear, "try them, and take your choice".

Or go with his pretty sister to some jeweller's glittering store. Let him display to eyes far brighter than his diamonds, and with a tender grace of manipulation which tells how costly is his ware, casket after casket of lustrous gems. Then invite her to select her suite. Or take her to some gay emporium - woe to the man who shall cry "shop" therein, for fifty pairs of angry scissors would find swift way to his heart! - where, behind acres of plate-glass, and upon miles of counter, the rich thick silk stands up in pyramids, and the delicate aristocratic satin gleams like an opal. Ask the shopmen (I beg pardon, the aides-decamp, or whatever may be their modern title) to educe their newest, most recherche robes, and beseech of Venus to choose.

"Will there not be in these cases a delicious perplexity, an ecstasy of amazement, an embarrassment of riches? Imagine to yourself this happy hesitation, and you will know something of my present sweet uncertainty. How am I to begin my selection of Roses? It seems as though, gazing upon an illuminated city, I was asked to point out the brightest candles; as though, where fire-flies gleamed by the million, and humming-birds glowed by the thousand, I was ordered to transfix with the entomological pin the brighest specimens of the one, and to adjust upon the ornithological wires the most exquisite examples of the other.

As to any scientific arrangement, ethnological, genealogical, or physiological classification, I am helplessly, hopelessly incapable. I have as "poor brains" for these studies as Cassio for strong drinks. The very words make my head ache, and I long to break them up as one breaks up, in wintry days, some big black coal with a poker. "I am no botanist," as the young Oxonian pleaded to the farmer who reproved him for riding over wheat; nor do I envy, although I honour, him. I do not envy him, because, strange as it may seem, he is very rarely an enthusiastic gardener; because I never remember to have seen a scientific botanist and a successful practical florist under the same hat. Wherefore I am content, when I put on my own "Christy," made for me by one who loves Roses, and grows them well, to confess meekly that it covers a skull void and empty of scientific treasures, but the property, I trust, of a true florist.

But how am I to begin with the Roses? I fancy that I hear a hiss or two, a shuffling of impatient shoes, as when too much preliminary-fiddling goes on before the play. And here, positively, in the very crisis and nick of time, my doubt is dissolved, the knot is cut upon the razor-edge of good-luck, and by an incident which sounds like a miracle. The Rose makes answer for itself. Yes, biting my quill, and beginning to think that the more I bite the nearer I draw to the stupidity of the bird which grew it, I hear an intermittent tapping on the panes of a window near. I am not startled, because this identical tapping has been going on for a good many years, whenever winds are high; but as I look up and see the cause, it seems to bring new sounds to my ears - a spirit raps distinctly on the glass, "Begin with us, the:

Climbing Roses

I obey at once the legate of my Queen. I lose no time in stating that the best Climbing Rose with which I am acquainted is Gloire de Dijon, commonly classed with the Tea-scented China Roses, but more closely resembling the Noisette family in its robust growth and hardy constitution. Planted against a wall having a southern or eastern aspect, it grows, when once fairly established, with a wonderful luxuriance. I have just measured a lateral on one of my trees, and of the last year's growth, and found it to be 19 feet in length, and the bole of another at the base to be nearly 10 inches in circumference. The latter grows on the chancel-wall of my church, and has had two hundred flowers upon it in full and simultaneous bloom; nor will the reader desire to arraign me for superstitious practices before a judicial committee when he hears that to this Rose I make daily obeisance, because - I only duck to preserve my eyesight. The two trees alluded to are on their own roots, but the Rose thrives stoutly on the Briar and the Manetti, budded and grafted, wherever Roses grow. Its flowers are the earliest and latest; it has symmetry, size, endurance, colour (five tints are given to it in the Rose-catalogue, buff, yellow, orange, fawn, salmon, and it has them all), and perfume.