106 MAY. 



the air " Sabean odours," then if you feel nei- 

 ther love nor poetry, depend upon it, you are 

 neither lover nor poet. As however in this 

 country, nightingales are as capricious as the 

 climate, a good singing gentleman is no bad 

 substitute, as a friend of ours convinced us on 

 such an occasion, making the woods echo with 

 the " Pibroch of Donnel Dhu." 



Flowers. The return of May again brings 

 over us a living sense of the loveliness and de- 

 lightfulness of flowers. Of all the minor crea- 

 tions of God they seem to be most completely 

 the effusions of his love of beauty, grace and 

 joy. Of all the natural objects which surround 

 us they are the least connected with our abso- 

 lute necessities. Vegetation might proceed, the 

 earth might be clothed with a sober green ; all 

 the processes of fructification might be per- 

 fected without being attended by the glory 

 with which the flower is crowned ; but beauty 

 and fragrance are poured abroad over the earth 

 in blossoms of endless varieties, radiant evi- 

 dences of the boundless benevolence of the 

 Deity. They are made solely to gladden the 

 heart of man, for a light to his eyes, for a 

 living inspiration of grace to his spirit, for a 

 perpetual admiration. And accordingly, they 

 seize on our affections the first moment that we 

 behold them. With what eagerness do vcr\ 



