THE chancellor's CONSCIENCE 



i:* three Darley-coms, round and diy make an inch, 

 then tell me please, how tall is a flower? Now, ever 

 since the days when Edward of Carnarvon was King of 

 Albion, the three little grains of barley, provided they were^ 

 sufficiently round and sufficiently dry, have measured an 

 inch in the law, and yet no man has ventured to say how tall 

 a flower is! If I speak of beautiful flowers do you not think 

 of sheltered gardens and sequestered nooks and perhaps, 

 oh ye city-bred, of greenhouses and of the florist's foggy shop 

 on the corner? Are these not all a part of Flora's crown? 

 Indeed yes, but there are others and still again, others. 

 Larger perhaps, sturdier surely, but as full of radiance as the 

 dawn, and who shall measure them with a foot rule or decry 

 them because forsooth they lift their heads on a longer stem 

 than their sisters. . 



Once upon a time in days long past and nearly forgotten 

 there was a man who wrote of philosophy and of humility, 

 of learning and of friends, and, surprising to state, he wrote 

 of law as well. Let us clip a page from his wisdom on this 



