MO KAL OF FLOWER 8. 67 



Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, 

 The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; 



And 'tit i/iy fuith that every jJoirer 



Enjy* the air it breathes." WORDSWORTH. 



Oh ! what a world of delightful thoughts and 

 sensations are opened to us by these exquisite 

 lines; how mighty are they to subdue every 

 stormy passion, and soften the asperities of our 

 nature; how humanizing is their influence upon 

 the mind ; again and again they recur to us, like a 

 sweet echo, until we are melted even to tears ; 

 the rock is smitten, and gives forth its gushing 

 waters ; the arid desert " blossoms like the rose !" 

 We reflect on what man has made of man," 

 and resolve henceforward to use our utmost 

 endeavors to relieve the load of human misery, 

 for the creed which teaches that " every flower 

 enjoys the air it breathes," while drawing 

 neaier to those radiant peoplers of creation, 

 stirs, as it were by electricity, the golden links 

 of that sympathetic chain which binds us to our 

 fellow men, calling fopth all our kindliest 

 feelings, and prompting us to acts of love. 

 Yes! beautiful and radiant creatures! as ye 



