Flowers and Gardens 



a scented twilight, the blue, wherever 

 it grows thin, dimming into such coy, 

 uncertain cast, that it seems like a misty 

 exhalation, or as if May had sportively 

 dashed the earth with her coolest and 

 most fragrant wine. Gather a handful 

 from that drooping, host or, still better, 

 sit down and study the flower as it 

 grows, and you would say scarcely any- 

 thing could be more lovely. But what 

 do we think of it in a garden ? There 

 is perhaps no real inferiority, if the 

 plants be well grown and limited to the 

 shade ; but the spirit and vitality seem 

 in a measure wanting, and our interest 

 consequently is feeble. The Bluebell 

 often spoils in the garden from an un- 

 natural bloating of its flowers ; but, apart 

 from this, there is such an utter separa- 

 tion from the circumstances which gave 

 full effect to its beauty, that it is as the 

 gem without the setting, the setting sun 

 stripped of the gorgeous robing of his 

 clouds. Now in cases like this, the 

 sight of the cultivated plant may do 

 you positive harm. As in the house- 

 grown Snowdrop, you become familiar- 

 ised with what is virtually an inferior 

 condition, and this only deadens your 

 love. The plant will probably get 

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