Amongst tfje 



NOT the least breath of wind stirs the heavy masses of yellow- 

 calceolarias on the lawn, or finds its way through the open 

 study window. A glance at the topmost twigs of the acacia, 

 sensitive as they ordinarily are to the slightest curl of air, shows 

 each pinnate leaf sharply brought out against a lowering sky. 

 A thunderstorm is clearly impending, and we fall to thinking 

 which book Elia, in his mild wisdom, would have recom- 

 mended as the fitting one for such an afternoon. " Milton 

 almost requires a solemn service of music to be played before 

 you enter upon him j " ere long Nature's grandest diapason 

 will be rolling overhead, while the lightning plays in and out 

 from the canopy of cloud over the distant Welsh hills. All at 

 once, as we open the book, a page of Paradise Lost discloses 

 a sprig of heather. It is well preserved, owing to the plant's 

 coriaceous nature, though the deep native purples are fled, 

 being replaced by pale lilac. Satirical poets may smile at the 

 speedy forgetfulness of the donor's name which ensues when 

 such a sprig is given as a gage & amour. Personal recollections 

 soon fade from a dried flower, but local associations almost 

 always assert themselves. The smell of a flower or tree 

 in its living state is the principal spell which recalls distant 

 places to the memory, as any one may prove experimentally 

 for himself. The fragrance of yew-trees or furze bushes is thus 

 particularly potent. The musty odour of death, however, con- 

 founds all these delicate scents, and it is the sight of withered 



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