154 
FUNERAL FLOWERS, 
“ Lay a white rose on her breast, 
t Pied violets dial, and cypress sere, 
That the scent of flowers may rest 
In her wintry sepulchre.”—E phoN 
In France —La Belle France !—the land of the 
Troubadour and Minnesinger, they, perhaps 
more than any other nation of modern times, 
cherish the memory of the dead, by ornament¬ 
ing their places of sepulture with the finest 
flowers, often renewing the garlands, and re¬ 
placing such plants as decay with vigorous and 
costly ones ; this is especially the case in the 
South of France, where the custom is of very 
ancient date, of expressing both love and hatred 
for the dead ; the first by rearing only the most 
beautiful and sweet-scented flowers on the 
grave; and the latter, by sowing around the 
seeds of such plants as were, for some reason 
or other, regarded as obnoxious. Let us illus¬ 
trate our meaning by a picture, contrasting the 
two graves of the loved and the hated—the 
betrayer and the betrayed :— 
“Wild are the tales which of that grave are told:— 
Around it grows each rank and noxious weed;— 
The poisonous toad-stool in that corner thrives;— 
