OUR QUEEN OF BEAUTY. 5 1 



Viola ; his scarlets from the Pelargonium ; his 

 purples, blues, and greys from the Verbena, the 

 Lobelia, and Ageratum ; his whites from the Ce- 

 rastium, Centaurea, Santolina, Alyssum ; let him 

 have all that flower and foliage, arranged by con- 

 summate taste, can do, he can never produce a 

 scene so fair, because he can never produce a 

 scene so natural, as he may have in a garden of 

 Roses. It may be more brilliant, more imposing, 

 but there will not be that unity, that perfect 

 peace, of which the eye wearies never. It is like 

 a triumphant march of organs, trumpets, and 

 shawms, but the ear cannot listen to it so long, so 

 happily, as to some plaintive horn in the* calm 

 eventide, or some sweet simple song. The gor- 

 geous dame of fashion, the loud undaunted woman 

 of the world, prismatic, brilliant, flaunting, glow- 

 ing with a color which, though decidedly ''fast," 

 will no more endure soft water than certain of our 

 brightest " bedders" will endure a drenching rain 

 — she, I say, may bewilder the dazzled eye, and 

 captivate the weaker world; but to the fresh, 

 pure, gentle girl, whose blushes cannot be bought 

 in Bond Street — to her be given St. Medard's 

 wreath,* for she only wins the wise man's heart. 



* In the sixth century, St. Medard instituted the custom of giving 

 a wreath of white Roses as an annual prize to the most modest and 

 obedient of the maidens at Salency. 



