72 THE BOUQUET. 



dawn of morning. They hung suspended between five dark green 

 leaves in the fulness of youthful beauty. Their color was red, like 

 the reflection of the rising Sun in the delicate tinge of Emily's 

 cheek. A balmy fragrance surrounded the flower. It was a serene 

 March morning. Emily had never conceived such magnificence. 

 Her joy was noiseless and without words. She kneeled before the 

 flower and viewed it in silence. At this moment her father entered 

 and looked at his beloved child and the blooming Hyacinth, and his 

 heart was touched vdth emotion. " Behold " said he, " what the 

 Hyacinth is to you, you are to us, Emily ! " 



Then the maiden sprang up and clasped her father in her arms, 

 and after a long embrace, she whispered, " Oh, my father may I also 

 bloom as beautifully as this flower." 



