38 



AN ESSAY ON FLOWERS. 



morning-glory, planted by his own little hand, 

 that has opened while he slept. The clover's 

 pink globe, and the deep crimson bloom of 

 the sumac ; the exquisite scent of the locust, 

 and the" auspicious blooming of the lilac ; the 

 hood-like purple of the fox-glove, and the 

 dainty tint of the sweet pea, stir, whenever 

 they re-appear, those dormant memories of 

 early and unalloyed consciousness, which 



" neither man nor boy, 



Nor all that is at enmity with joy, 

 Call utterly abolish or destroy." 



Thus, from the first, perverted mortal, thou 

 wert indebted to flowers ; — as a wayward ur- 

 chin, loitering on the way to school, thou 

 whistled shrilly against the edge of a grass- 

 blade, held a butter-cup to the chin of thy 

 little comrade, or puffed away the feathery 

 seed-blossom of the dandelion to ascertain if 

 thy secret wish would be consummated ; as a 

 youth, with quivering pulses and flushed 

 brow, thou wert not ashamed to seek the 

 choicest flowers as interpreters of thy feelings 

 towards one before whom thy words were 

 tremulous, yet fond ; and in thy prime, when 

 positive knowledge and accurate deduction 

 constituted thy felicity, it was, or might have 

 been, to thee a rational pastime to study the 

 botanical relations, laws, and habits of these 

 poetic effusions of the earth ; causing them to 

 gratify thee through analysis, as they once 

 did through sentiment. And "in that Indian 

 summer of the soul," that descends on frosty 

 age, how do flowers serve as the magic con- 

 necting bond that unites senility and child- 

 hood ! The eye of age softens as it beholds 

 the shower of blossoms from the fruit-trees, 

 thinks of its own flowery day, and is thankful 

 for a serene maturity. Thus have flowers an 

 utterance everywhere and always ; the wild 

 columbine, on its thread-like stem, that hangs 

 on the stony cliff; the fungus, that swells 

 from the mouldering trunk of gigantic forest 

 trees ; the tropical exotics of the stuffo, that 

 almost bewilder in their strange beauty ; and 

 the buds that open beneath Alpine snows, ad- 

 dress our sense of adventure, of wonder, and 

 of gentleness, in quiet, yet persuasive ap- 

 peals, that sometimes we cannot choose but 

 heed. 



The fondness of the Dutch for tulips, It 

 may be conjectured, is partly owing to the 

 flatness of their country, as well as its allu- 

 vial soil ; the absence of picturesque variety 



in form inducing a craving for the most vivid 

 sensations from colour. Perhaps the com- 

 pactness and neat growth of bulbous roots, so 

 adapted to their cleanly and well-arranged 

 domicils, somewhat accounts for the exquisite 

 degree of cultivation to which they bring this 

 species of flowers. It is one characteristic 

 advantage of such natural ornaments, that a 

 few well selected, or even one in a room, or 

 in the midst of a grass-plat, will diffuse re- 

 freshment and excite imagination. Thus the 

 flowers that cluster on the roofs of Genoa, 

 and the little knot of violets imbedded in ge- 

 ranium leaves dispensed by the flower-girls in 

 Tuscany, are more pleasing than if the dis- 

 play were greater. On revisiting a city of 

 the latter state, after years of absence, as I 

 followed the lagging porter who carried my 

 luggage, in the twilight of early morning, I 

 was startled by a cordial exclamation, " Ben 

 ior7iato, O ben tomato signore!" and look- 

 ing down a narrow street, I saw the flower- 

 girl from whom I had so long ago been ac- 

 customed to purchase, gaily advancing with a 

 bouquet. It was a welcome such as awaits 

 the traveller in few countries, and one which 

 touched the heart with cheerful augury. 



There is, indeed, something in flowers re- 

 dolent of hope and suggestive of amity. Their 

 very universality renders them eloquent of 

 greeting. The fair, maternal bosom of Ti- 

 tian's Flora has a significance beyond that 

 Avhich artists recognise ; it proclaims Nature 

 as a beneficent parent, lavishly dispensing the 

 flowers that strew life's rugged path, with 

 sweet monitions and grateful refreshment. 

 How, in the season of vivid emotion, has the 

 unexpected sight of a pale crocus bursting 

 from the mould in early spring, the teeming 

 odor of a magnolia tossed on a summer breeze, 

 or the green flakes of a larch, powdered with 

 snowy crystal in the winter sun, kindled the 

 very frame with a kind of mysterious delight ! 

 There is to the poetical sense, a ravishing 

 prophecy and winsome intimation in flowers, 

 that now and then, from the influence of 

 mood or circumstance, re-asserts itself like 

 the reminiscence of childhood or the spell of 

 love. Then we realize that they are the sur- 

 vivors of our lost paradise, the types of what 

 is spontaneous, inspiring, and unprofaned in 

 life and humanity, the harbingers of a blissful 

 futurity. It was, therefore, in a rational as 

 well as a fanciful spirit, that trees were con- 



