10 A CHAPTER ON FLOWERS. 



fumed breath with a sense of pleasure and of pride. But the 

 Wild Flowers, — the gems which God's own hand has scattered 

 abroad in the wilderness, — blossoms sown by the wind, nursed 

 by the shower, peering from their covert on the hill-side, smiling 

 upon us from the cleft of some dark ravine, looking down ten- 

 derly from the face of some rugged cliff, — these bring to our 

 souls those surprises of sudden joy which keep the heart forever 

 awake to a blessedness like that of innocent childhood. 



Nature ne'er betrays 

 The heart that loves her. Other joys may fail, 

 And other hopes may wither ; blight may fall 

 On Love's fair blossom, and dark mildew steal 

 O'er wealth's rich gifts ; the laurel crown may drop 

 Its shining leaves, and all that men most prize 

 May cheat their souls with promises untrue ; 

 But nature's gifts arc boundless, she doth show 

 Ever a loving face to those who come 

 In lowliness of spirit to her shrine. 



Of all remedies for a world- wearied spirit, commend me to a 

 day in the woods. The feeling of freedom, the consciousness 

 of having left turmoil and disquiet beliind, becomes the first 

 element of repose to the heart. Then come the thousand new 

 delights — new, even if enjoyed a myriad of times before — 

 which nature offers to our acceptance. The soul and the sense 

 alike are gratified. Beneath our feet is spread a carpet of moss 

 and fallen leaves, whose elastic fabric gives buoyancy to our 

 step. We inhale the spicy fragrance of the woodland air ; we 

 gaze upward and behold the towering majesty of the forest 



