rested from his journey, there stood at the front gate a waggon piled to the height of the first-floor windows with bran span lights, all glazed and painted, with the doors, ventilators, bolts, screws, everything down to tenpenny nails, so that with the aid of a couple of carpenters the house was put up, in less time and with about a fiftieth part of the labour required to print this little book about roses.

So much by way of history. The description may be similarly brief. The house is a span, with very sharp pitch, glass to the ground; the lights ride in the gutter, the gutter rides on wooden chairs, the chairs rest on concrete piers; it is as substantial as a rock, and as portable as a bedstead. The lights bolt together at the ridge, as if fitted together by hinges, so that they can be drawn out at any time to make a house one-third wider and of a low pitch; the ends are fixed under the styles of the roof sashes by means of small iron plates, the doors hang as other doors do, and the ridge is covered with a ridgeboard, as in any other span-roofed house. The view of the structure will make all this plain, and show that a house of this kind may be adapted to any position and to any sort of garden.

Now you may ask why this particular form of house in preference to any other. Let me therefore remark, that to grow roses under glass you need protection from frost and excessive wet in winter; this, a glass house of any kind will supply. But

you need all the help possible from sun-heat in spring, for sun-heat to roses is as much superior to fire-heat as fire-heat is superior to no heat at all when frost rages for weeks together. With such a steep pitch there is an immense gain of sun-heat in spring, and this house is generally four degrees warmer than one of lower pitch would be, from an early hour in the morning, from the beginning of March to the middle of May. Therefore the roses are greatly assisted to bloom early and strong. But during the summer there is need rather of coolness than heat; certainly we do not want roses to be kept in an oven from June to August, and it happens that when the sun gets high in the heavens a steep pitch catches less of his rays, and a low roof is preferable to collect sun-heat. So by the use of this form of house we get aid from the sun when we most need it, and when an increase of the natural temperature is no longer desirable, there is the least possible difference between the temperature in the house and out of doors.

But the value of this style of building is not merely in the angle of the lights,.for a house of any other kind could be built to the same angle, and these Paxtonian houses can be made as flat as any others, and are often so made for growing pines and other such things. But there are two special advantages, and the first of these is the perfect system of ventilation. The ventilating shutters are in two

divisions, the whole length of the lights, and admit air either from the ground to the roof, or from the ground half-way up, or from the ridge half-way down, at the will of the cultivator. Thus there can be kept up a continual circulation of top air, which is desirable on sunny days in spring, or of air the whole length, which is desirable day and night all the summer in the case of roses, and the ventilators of this house are all open day and night from the first week in June till the middle of August. I believe there is no system known equal to this for maintaining throughout the house a constantly moving atmosphere, the breeze playing through the leaves without violence, even when a gale is blowing, and still moving even when the air outside is at a dead calm. The heat of the sun striking on the glass and wood causes all the air in the house to rise and escape at the edge of the ridge-board; this is the origin of the circulation when the air outside is still. The upward motion causes an inward flow of air at the bottom, and thus stagnation is impossible, and Phoebus himself works the windmill exactly at the rate needful, for the fiercer his heat the more rapid the escape of air at top and influx at bottom.

Our rose-growing readers will fully appreciate the importance of all this. A stifling atmosphere is death to roses, no matter if Teas or what else. But they want no artificial heat to produce a good bloom, if the cultivator is content to wait till the sun brings

them out naturally. Therefore this house is not heated in any way, and as an indication of what may be done without fire-heat, it will suffice to say that many of the roses in the house are usually in full bloom in the first week of April, and by the second week in May they are all out or covered with expanding buds, and so they continue till the end of June, when they rest from their exertions, and prepare for a fine bloom all the late summer and autumn, some lasting till after Christmas.

The view of the interior will show that the roses are all planted out in the two side borders, and the way they are planted may be worth telling to those who are fond of Tea roses, and have no prospect of growing them well in the open ground. In the first place, then, the house measures 35 feet long, 16 feet wide, and is 12 feet high from the path to the ridge. It is, therefore, strictly a miniature rose-house. The borders are 80 inches wide, and are kept up by means of stout planks, neatly planed, and painted stone colour. The walk is sunk 15 inches below the top edges of the boards, and it consists of a mixture of fine gravel mixed with Portland cement, laid down on a bottom of hard stuff, and then watered and rolled while wet with a garden roller. It has the fresh colour of good gravel, and is as hard as a pavement. I should miss the mark altogether, if I did not add that the borders are prepared with great care; for Tea roses will not

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endure damp at the roots in winter, and they require a light, rich soil. First, then, along the centre of each border is laid a drain to carry superfluous water

quite away.

These drains communicate with the main drain which passes the house, and thus all stagnation of water in the soil is prevented. Over these drains is laid about six inches of broken brick and tile, and then twenty-four inches of soil, consisting of thin slicings of turf from a loamy pasture previously laid up and the grass quite rotted, hot-bed dung, leaf mould, the top pulverized crumbs from a bank of clay, and old plaster broken fine, equal