and meads where first we found them, and restore, 

 though but for a few seconds, the tender grace of a 



day that is dead? S. Reynolds Hole. 



How sweetly smells the Honeysuckle 

 In the hush'd night, as if the world were one 

 Of utter peace and love and gentleness! 



Walter Savage Landor. 



Perfumes are the feelings of flowers, and as the 

 human heart feels most powerful emotions in the 

 night, when it believes itself to be alone and unper- 

 ceived, so also do the flowers, soft-minded, yet 

 ashamed, appear to await for concealing darkness, 

 that they may give themselves wholly up to their 

 feelings, and breathe them out in sweet odours. 



Heinrich Heine. 



of tl)e 



The flowers of the sea are flowers more in ap- 

 pearance than in reality. Seen in masses through 

 the clear water they look like beds of mountain 

 pinks or fields of fern or hillsides of wild asters, 

 with moss and ice-plant and cactus growths scattered 

 between; but the likeness is superficial. The plants 

 are very different from those known on the earth. 

 They have no root, they absorb nothing from the 

 soil, they require neither rain nor air, and some of 

 them manage to exist with little or no light. There 

 are no blossoming forms, no leaves, seldom any 

 fruit ; and while there are growths having a foothold 

 on the bottom that rise up through a thousand feet 

 of water to float ball-shaped tangles upon the sur- 

 face, yet in form they are not at all like trees. The 

 "trunk" that climbs upward so many feet is no 

 larger than one's finger, and the bunch of weed at 



