IV. 



A TALK WITH FLORA AND POMONA. 



* 



September, 1847. 



WE beg leave to inform such of our readers as may be inter- 

 ested, that we have lately had the honor of a personal inter- 

 view with the distinguished deities that preside over the garden and 

 the orchard, Flora and Pomona. 



The time was a soft balmy August night ; the scene was a leafy 

 nook in our own grounds, where, after the toils of the day, we were 

 enjoying the dolce far niente of a hammock, and wondering at the 

 necessity of any thing fairer or diviner than rural nature, and such 

 moonlight as then filled the vaulted heaven, bathed the tufted fore- 

 ground of trees, the distant purple hills, and 



" Tipt with silver all the fruit tree tops." 



It was a scene for an artist ; yet, as we do not write for the 

 Court Journal, we must be pardoned for any little omission in the 

 costumes or equipages of the divinities themselves. Indeed, we were 

 so thoroughly captivated with the immortal candor and freshness of 

 the goddesses, that we find many of the accessories have escaped our 

 memory. Pomona's breath, however, when she spoke, filled the 

 air with the odor of ripe apricots, and she held in her left hand a 

 fruit, which we immediately recognized as one of the golden apples 

 of the Hesperides, (of which she knew any gardener upon earth 

 would give his right hand for a slip,) and which in the course of our 

 interview, she acknowledged was the only sort in the mythological 

 gardens which excels tho Newtown Pippin. Her lips had the dewy 



