Joan Silver-pin 
3 2 5 
of the fragrant delight of flowering Buckwheat — 
may the breezes blow such fragrance far from me ! 
But why dwell on perfumes ; flowers were made to 
look at, not to smell ; sprays of Sweet Balm or Basil 
leaves outsweeten every flower, and make no pretence 
or thought of beauty ; render to each its own virtues, 
and try not to engross the charm of another. 
“ I was indeed the queen of the garden, and here 
I am exiled behind the barn. Life is not worth liv- 
ing. I won’t come up again. She will walk through 
the garden next May and say, ( How dull and shabby 
the garden looks this year! the spring is backward, 
everything has run to leaves, nothing is in bloom, 
we must buy more fertilizer, we must get a new gar- 
dener, we must get more plants and slips and seeds 
and bulbs, it is fearfully discouraging, I never saw 
anything so gone off! ’ then perhaps she will remem- 
ber, and regret the friend of her grandparents, the 
Crown-imperial — whom she thrust from her Garden 
of Delight.” 
