168 THE CHRISTMAS ROSE. 



to lliat which, \vhelli3r in time or in elernily, fadeth 

 not away 1 It is the weighiiesl part of the curse 

 that so presses our souls into the dust, inclining us 

 to hide ourselves \vilh thick clay, in the face of 

 the acknowledged fact, that it must crumble and 

 fall olT. I task myself continually with the diffi- 

 cult work of applyi'ig this lesson, so easily learnt 

 in word ; so hard to reduce to practice : but while 

 I treasure up with jealous care the fragments of 

 every broken tie, and would not relinquish one of 

 them, nor forget how the bursting of it rent my in- 

 most heart, I am ever ready to the unwise occupa- 

 tion of forming new ones, to be in like manner 

 served, and to plant an additional pang. It is 

 partly a consciousness of this that sends me to the 

 flowers of my new year's greeting: they are not 

 individualized, like the loved ones of my own race. 

 I can take a Christmas rose, and, in everv point, 

 identify it with the first that attracted my childish 

 notice. It seems to be an actual relic of the scene 

 so gay in lengthened distance; it has, I know not 

 how, outlived the bloom of all, the mortal existence 

 of many, whose laughing countenances shone round 

 me that day. By being the representative of a 

 whole assemblage, some of whom are now on 

 iheir way rejoicing, together with me, that they 

 have been led to seek a city which halh foundations, 

 the sigh of regret is softened as I gaze orj the 

 flower, and I feel an acquiescence in the common 



