THE CARNATION. 93 



al dependance on that which man cannot supply. 

 The garden of Eden was Adam's only Bible, and 

 sweetly, no doubt, did he meditate upon the living 

 page ; a book more precious meets our far deeper 

 wants ; but the first volume, with all its sin- 

 wrought blemishes, when interpreted by the se- 

 cond, is a study that I would not forego for any 

 work of human wisdom. 



I must not, however, lose sight of my carnations : 

 they have reference to some reminiscences in 

 which I must indulge. Not that the character 

 which I connect with them, bears any resemblance 

 to the flower ; but those delicate flowers grew in 

 great profusion round the lowly cottage of old 

 Dame C, and, as the sole, acknowledgment that 

 poverty could make, I was invariably presented with 

 the choicest of that elegant store, when I com- 

 menced visiting her : until I come so to identify 

 them, that, if I had been more than a day or two 

 absent, the sight of a carnation would send me off, 

 conscience-stricken, to my instructive post. 



Dame C. could find no gratification in the flower- 

 garden : for twelve years she had been totally blind ; 

 and when she had lain for full two years on a bed, 

 where rheumatic affection of the limbs forbade her 

 even the luxury of changing her position, without an 

 effort quite agonizing to her crippled frame. I 

 want to pourtray the family as I found them ; and 

 shall endeavour so to do. 



