They always mix well together, don't they?
Here's the white musk rose, Mr.
Betteredge--our old English rose holding up its head along with the best and the newest of them.

Pretty dear!" says the Sergeant, fondling the Musk Rose with his lanky fingers, and speaking to it as if he was speaking to a child.
This was a nice sort of man to recover Miss Rachel's Diamond, and to find out the thief who stole it! "You seem to be fond of roses, Sergeant ?" I remarked.
"I haven't much time to be fond of anything," says Sergeant Cuff.

"But when I _have_ a moment's fondness to bestow, most times, Mr.Betteredge, the roses get it.

I began my life among them in my father's nursery garden, and I shall end my life among them, if I can.Yes.One of these days (please God) I shall retire from catching thieves, and try my hand at growing roses.

There will be grass walks, Mr.Gardener, between my beds," says the Sergeant, on whose mind the gravel paths of our rosery seemed to dwell unpleasantly.
"It seems an odd taste, sir," I ventured to say, "for a man in your line of life." "If you will look about you (which most people won't do)," says Sergeant Cuff, "you will see that the nature of a man's tastes is, most times, as opposite as possible to the nature of a man's business.