CHAPTER IX. 



THE VINE. 



After a long struggle against the prevailing incli- 

 nation, I have resolved to gratify it, even at the 

 hazard of being brought in guilty of a flagrant de- 

 parture from the verity of my title. Fruit does not 

 legitimately come under the head of flowers ; — 

 true, but flowers that herald not some species of 

 fruit are comparatively of little worth. In short, 

 I would rather, for once, plead guilty to the charge 

 of inconsistency, than deprive myself of the de- 

 light with which I constantly dwell on an image so 

 nationally precious, that the reader who falls out 

 with me for bringing it before her, must seek her 

 place beyond the circle of, at least, English Chris- 

 tian ladies. 



The Vine, the fruitful vine, that spreads its luxu- 

 riant foliage, and throws out its wiry tendrils, and 

 hangs forth its clusters to the mellowing sunbeams, 

 will not be passed by, at this season of sweet recol- 

 lections. It brings before me in the most vivid por- 

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