266 THE LEMON-PLANT. 



Her hand supplied the flowers that adorned the 

 cradle of the Irish baby ; and often did she hasten 

 to present me with the first and freshest buds of 

 May, assuring me of her fervent prayers on behalf 

 of the dear though distant, and to her unknown, 

 antitype of those fragrant blossoms. To her I 

 took the Passion-flower ; and the nun, whom she 

 personally knew, formed the theme of numberless 

 conversations between us ; while there also, I had 

 the help of her persevering prayers. So intimate- 

 ly was she acquainted with all most interesting to 

 me, that I have almost marvelled she should not 

 have broken through the lengthened silence, won 

 to renew the correspondence by the touching of a 

 chord in her sensitive bosom, that never failed to 

 respond. Alas ! I little thought that she had gone 

 to rejoice with those who had awakened so intense 

 an interest in us : and that the Lemon-plant, or 

 Verbena, a sweet shrub which I had, from the 

 first day of our acquaintance, held in a manner 

 sacred to her, was soon to be placed among the 

 mementos of the dead. 



As I have before remarked, my floral associations 

 are very arbitrary. They are sometimes founded 

 on a resemblance, traced between the individual 

 and the flower; but more frequently upon some 

 incident that has connected them : and then I love 

 to follow up the union, by making out some actual 

 point of likeness. Not a few of my best-loved 



