THE CHRISTMAS ROSE. 169 



lot of my species ; a thankfulness for mercies past ; 

 a cheerful trust in the word of those good promises 

 yet to be fulfilled, and a readiness to go forward, 

 after marking the Eben-ezers that I have been 

 constrained to set up at the close of every fleeting 

 year. 



' But this is not a chapter on flowers — it is a 

 chapter on new years, very barren of incident, and 

 too vague to be classed with your floral biogra- 

 phy.' Have patience, dear reader; I will not 

 leave you without singling one from the many 

 cheerful assemblages that the Christmas rose has 

 graced, from time to time, before or since it at- 

 tracted my especial notice. 



Even prior to the period alluded to, while I was 

 yet but a very little girl, I had often been the fa- 

 vourite playfellow of one who had a nearer claim 

 than the tie of mere acquaintanceship. His story 

 is touching ; and T will give it briefly. He was 

 born in a distant country, and came among us to 

 be educated : many years older than myself, I can 

 but remember him as a tall youth, when I was a 

 child : but many little recollections combine to 

 make his image familiar to my mind's eye. Hav- 

 ing completed his studies in England, he left our 

 shores, highly accomplished, and returned to the 

 bosom of a family whose pride he was. Not long 

 after, he was unhappily led, by the influence of 



some who knew how to work on his chivalric char- 



15 



