STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 143 



a few flowers. The children will become interested, and will take 

 more than one burden oil your hands. They will " think no bad 

 thoughts,"' watching the tiny buds and leaves unfold. Even the 

 youngest will take an interest, and would never think of molesting 

 mamma's flowers. Some of the pleasantest recollections of my child- 

 hood are of birds and flowers. How well I remember thinking that 

 by lying down beside a bed of balsams ('•touch-me-nots'* we called 

 them then ) I could catch one of the beautiful little humming-birds 

 that daily gathered sweets from the flowers. 



Beecher says, " Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made 

 and forgot to put a soul into." Flowers! They are among the most 

 beautiful things on earth. This world would indeed be a barren 

 waste if there were no flowers. How drear and lonely everything 

 looks out of doors in winter, when the flowers are all dead. But 

 there are many kinds that we can grow in the house. What is 

 lovelier than a window full of nice plants. 'Tis true they require a 

 great deal of care: still, T think they repay us for all our care in 

 their beauty and fragrance. How lovely the first spring flowers are! 

 The first to break through the frost are the crocus and snow drops. 

 Then hyacinths and lilies of the valley, filling the air with their per- 

 fume, and tulips with their gorgeous colors — no flower makes a 

 more showy bed. Then come the annuals; by care and a little 

 trouble we can have a succession of flowers all summer. Flowers! 

 who does not love them? 



"The opening bud that lightly swung 



V]Hm tlie dewy air, 

 Moved ill its very sportiveness 



Beneath angelic care; 

 For i)early lingers gently ope'd 



E;icli curved <ind painted leaf — 

 Eiicli tiny leal' liecaine a scroll 



Inscribed with lioly truth — 

 A lesson, tliat around the heart 



ISiiould keep the dews of youth. 

 Bright missals from angelic throngs 



Jn every by-way left. 

 How were the eartli of glory shorn 



Were it of llowers bereft. 



Tliey treniltle on the Aljnne height, 



Tiie fissured rocks they press — 

 The desert wild with heat and sand 



Shares too their l)lessedness; 

 And wl!eres(t(3'er the weary heart 



Turns in its dim desj)air. 

 The meek-eyed blossom upward looks 



Inviting it to i)rayer. 

 God might liave made the earth bring forth 



Enough for great and small. 

 The oak tree and the cedar tree, 



Without a rtower at all. 



