window upon a bank of red chrysan¬ 
themums which grew beneath it. The 
flowers paled slowly from red to white 
with grief at seeing her die, and so 
they remain to this day. When crushed 
they exhale a faint, sweet odour, an 
emblem of the love that never dies. 
Few of our poets have had the 
courage to extol this flower in verse; 
no doubt its name of many syllables 
has daunted them. 
In the old annuals, or “ Friendship’s 
Offerings,” which were so highly es¬ 
teemed by our grandmothers, one will 
always find a section of the book 
devoted to the explanation of the 
language of flowers. The sentiment 
bestowed upon our golden flower is 
one of the prettiest that may be found; 
it reads, “ Courage under adversity.” 
192 
