loveliness said, " On me another grace 

 bestow." The angel looked on her 

 silently, wondering what grace the 

 flower wanted, owning already sweet- 

 ness, fairness, and modesty. "Wait 

 but a moment, lovely rose," he cried, 

 and hied away to the forest. There, 

 spread on the ground beneath an oak, 

 he found what he sought, — a carpet 

 of moss. Kneeling, he gathered one by 

 one its fine and lace-like sprays, choos- 

 ing only those which glowed greenest 

 and were most delicate. When both 

 his hands were filled he hurried back 

 to the rose and bound tenderly about 

 each bud a veil of the green moss, 



" And robed in Nature's simplest weed, 

 Could tliere a flower that rose exceed ?" 



Of all peoples, perhaps the Hindus 

 have the most mystic and yet the most 

 sincere love for flowers. They will 

 wander all day through a garden, paus- 

 ing before a flower, studying and 

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