" Let us content ourselves no longer with being mere ' botanists ' his- 

 torians of structural facts. The flowers are not mere comely or curious 

 vegetable creations, with colors, odors , petals, stamens and innumerable 

 technical attributes. The wonted insight alike of scientist, philosopher, 

 theologian, and dreamer is now repudiated in the new revelation. Beauty 

 is not < its own excuse for being,' nor was fragrance ever l wasted on the 

 desert air. 1 The seer has at last heard and interpreted the voice in the 

 wilderness. The flower is no longer a simple passive victim in the busy 

 bee 's sweet pillage, but rather a conscious being, with hopes, aspirations 

 and companionships. The insect is its counterpart. Its fragrance is but 

 a perfumed whisper of welcome, its color is as the wooing blush and rosy 

 lip, its portals are decked for his coming, and its sweet hospitalities humored 

 to his tarrying ; and as it speeds its parting affinity, rests content that its 

 life's consummation has been fulfilled " WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON. 



