THE MODESTY OF FLOWERS. 
123 
moreover, they look as though they enjoyed being stared at, 
thereby losing much of tlieir attractiveness ; in short, they are 
not thoroughly rose-hke. It is a cruel thing in a gardener to 
pervert, as it were, the very nature of a plant, and one could 
sooner forgive the clipping a yew-tree into a peacock, according 
to the quaint fancy of our forefathers, than this stripping the mod- 
est rose of her drapery of foliage — it reminds one of the pain- 
ful difference between the gentle, healthy-hearted daughter of 
home, the light of the house, and the meretricious dancer, tricked 
out upon the stage to dazzle and bewilder, and be stared at by 
the mob. The rose has so long been an emblem of womanly 
loveliness, that we do not like to see her shorn of one feminine at- 
tribute ; and modesty in every true-hearted woman is, like affec- 
tion, a growth of her very nature, whose roots are fed with her 
hfe's blood. No ; give back her leaves to the rose, that her 
flowers may open amid their native branches. This veil of ver- 
dure, among whose folds the starry blossoms bud, and bloom, and 
die, has been given to every plant — the lowly dew-drop, as well 
as the gorgeous martagon ; nay, it is the inheritance of the very 
rudest weeds ; and yet the rose, the noblest flower on earth, you 
would deprive of this priceless grace ! 
We are very fortunate in having the wild roses about our own 
haunts ; they are not found everywhere. M. de Humboldt men- 
tions that in his travels in South America he never saw one, even 
in the higher and cooler regions, where other brambles and plants 
of a temperate climate were common. 
Tuesday, 9 th:- — Fine strawberries from the fields this evening 
for tea. Warm, bright weather ; thermometer 85 — lovely even- 
ing, but too warm for much exercise. Strolled in the lane, en- 
