“ And it is quite a new flower to me, 
father,” said Ellen, w and I dare say it 
is to mother too; so I shall not exam¬ 
ine it till she comes, that we may enjoy 
it together.” 
“You are right,” said her father; 
“and now, as it is not quite breakfast¬ 
time, suppose we take a turn round the 
flower-garden, and see the beautiful 
productions of other climates; which 
has placed, as Milton says.” 
Ellen, now in her sixteenth year, 
with a mind highly cultivated by the 
constant assiduity of her parents, and 
particularly of her amiable and intelli¬ 
gent mother, was keenly alive to all 
the beauties of nature. Her brother, 
a year younger, was not devoid of sen¬ 
sibility on the subject; but he was of 
a less contemplative cast of character 
than Ellen; and besides, he was still a 
true school-boy, and rather prone to 
