A CHAPTER ON FLOWERS. 11 



king, — we look beside us, and the meek beauty of the wild- 

 flower greets the eye; while the ear, pained so long by the 

 confused murmur of a crowd, is now soothed by a stillness 

 unbroken save by nature's voices. 



Let us forth, and wander, in memory or in fancy, through 

 such a scene, in the soft balmy days of early summer, or be- 

 neath the lingering influences of departing spring. The sun 

 beats with too fierce a heat on the upland walk, but lo ! a green 

 and sheltered vale invites our steps, and leads to the cool forest 

 shade. We seek no path, for we would fain wind as we list 

 through the leafy labyrinth, and look on nature in her most 

 secluded bowers. The interlacing branches have shut out 

 every ray of sunshine, and the shadows lie in heavy blackness 

 upon the thick turf. A pleasant shiver runs through the heated 

 frame, and we pause a moment to enjoy the grateful coolness. 

 A little onward lies a discrowned monarch of the woods ; he 

 has fallen beneath the weight of years, and moss and wild-vines 

 are wreathing the upturned roots, while from the spot where he 

 once flourished are already springing other trees and of a 

 totally different race. 



How beautifully the sunshine breaks into the glade through 

 the opening left by the ruined tree ! See how it flickers through 

 the maple's spreading branches ; glancing with arrowy beams 

 between the pagoda-like boughs of the hemlock, and touching 

 with gold the dark leaves of the gnarled oak, while it falls like 

 network upon the greensward, bringing out a thousand beauties 

 before unseen. Look how the red berries of the serpent's eye 



