FRUITS AND FLOWERS. 321 



No other simply beautiful thing is endowed with such a breadth 

 of sentiment ; the plumage of birds is beautiful, and their 

 songs delightful, but neither of them could find a place in the 

 heart of the mourner, and at other times they might produce 

 satiety and weariness. Even the few superstitions that are 

 attached to flowers are some of them very beautiful : 



" I would give you some violets, 

 But they withered all when my father died." 



Again, how flowers are inwrought into all the arts and em- 

 bellishments of life, from the lofty architectural ornament to 

 the sprig on a youth's vest. Many persons who havje neither 

 the taste or inclination to cultivate flowers, surround them- 

 selves with representations of them, upon their carpets, tapes- 

 try, clothing and ornaments. The story of flowers and their 

 effect upon the heart and the well being of man has not been 

 half told. 



The memory of some men is intimately attached to particu- 

 lar flowers. Some are called after their names, while others 

 more directly appeal to our sympathies. Who is not reminded 

 of the lamented Kane when he sees the vernal Saxifrage 

 cresting the mossy rocks in early spring ; this little flower or a 

 species scarcely dissimilar, was one of the last flowers to quit 

 the Arctic voyager's weary track. Or who can gaze upon the 

 brilliant Escholtzia without thinking of the melancholy fate of 

 Douglass, the botanist, goaded to death by wild buffaloes in a 

 strange land ? And while those recent and hardy additions to 

 the shrubbery and garden, the Wigelia and Dieletra spectabilis 

 shall be cultivated, the name of Mr. Fortune, who introduced 

 them from China, shall not be forgotten. 



Ever present flowers, to what a noble ancestry do they 

 belong ! Whose hands have not plucked them, and whose 

 gaze have they not reflected ? Wise and holy men have 

 drawn from them inspiration and inculcated moral lessons. 

 Kings and magnates of the earth have regarded them, and been 

 honored by their presence. Poets of all time have wreathed 

 their harps with them and sang to their praise. Unquarried 

 rocks and beds of fossil coal, deep in the bowels of the earth, 



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