A CHAPTER ON FLOWERS. 



" With what a glory comes and goes the year ! 

 The buds of spring, those beautiful harbingers 

 Of sunny skies and cloudless times, enjoy 

 Life's newness, and earth's garniture spread out ; 

 And when the silver habit of the clouds 

 Comes down upon the autumn sun, and with 

 A sober gladness the old year takes up 

 His bright inheritance of golden fruits, 

 A pomp and pageant fill the splendid_ scene." 



Longfellow. 



Flowers ! Wild Flowers ! how full of association is the very 

 name ! How fraught with reminiscences of the breezy hill — ■ 

 how redolent of woodland odors, — how musical with the dash 

 of the waterfall — the rushing of the mountain stream — the 

 rustling of the sedgy rivulet ! The blossoms which reward our 

 patient care within the garden's bounds, are beautiful beyond 

 compare, — they have grown up beneath our guardianship, and 

 they recompense us, as only nature can recompense the heart 

 that values her gifts. They are beautiful, and we watch their 

 development, we dwell upon their loveliness, we drink their per- 



