CHILDREN AND FLOWEES. 101 



ing even the infant in the nurse's arms to snatch 

 at flowers and laugh in the sunshine !" These 

 are the words of Miss TWAMLEV, one, whose 

 name we cannot mention, but straightway there 

 rise before us visions of floral loveliness, filled with 

 all fair shapes and rainbow hues ; we breathe an 

 atmosphere of perfume, and our sense of hearing 

 becomes so acute, that we can even distinguish, 

 amid the grand symphony of nature, the pecu- 

 liar chime of the harebells, which this lady 

 likens to fairy music, a symphonious peal, 

 rung out just as twilight steals over the land- 

 scape, to summon the tiny folk to their revels, 

 when they 



Knit hands, and beat the ground 



In alight fantastic round." 



But why, oh, lady fair!" say " all, except 

 positive idiots?" Have these no share, think 

 ye, in " the poetry of existence ?" Do they 

 not love to inhale the perfume, and gaze on the 

 forms and hues of flowers ? Do they not listen 

 with delight to the singing of birds, the gurg- 

 ling of running streams, and the waving of leafy 

 9* 



