Mezereon. 
IOI 
Another variety, which is a native of Jamaica, is known as 
“ lace-wood.” The inner bark is of such a texture that it may 
be drawn out in long webs like lace, and has been actually 
worn as such. Charles II. had a cravat made of it, which Sir 
Thomas Lynch, when Governor of Jamaica, presented to him. 
It is sad, but too true, that very many fair daughters of Eve 
might appropriately adopt this flower as their emblem : their 
conversation is prompted by no deeper feelings than that lady 
whom Mrs. Browning represents as saying 
“ ‘ Yes,’ I answered you last night; 
‘No,’ this morning, sir, I say. 
Colours seen by candle-light 
Are different seen by day. 
When the viols played their best, 
Lamps above and laughs below, 
Love me sounded like a jest, 
Fit for yes or fit for no." 
Alas ! how many have lived to find that loving means some¬ 
thing more than jesting! Ladies fair, take heed in time: as 
for male coquettes, although they have been heard of in song, 
let us hope that such despicable creatures as they would be are 
only the offspring of fiction. 
How many have been no more fortunate in their wooing, 
when wasting their time on a heartless coquette, than the hero 
of these lines: 
“We met—alas the luckless eve! “When we returned and joined the dance, 
We met—’t was at the county ball; Once more my partner she became, 
And straightway she a web did weave, And gave me many a loving glance, 
And I was caught within the thrall. Till my young heart was all on flame. 
We danced; my heart and feet kept time, And when she left, I saw her down 
While both as yet remained to me; Into the carriage at the door; 
But long before the supper-time, I pressed her hand—she did not frown, 
The first was hers—the latter free. And so I muttered, ‘An revoir!’ 
“Her arm on mine, we went downstairs; “Next day I called in eager haste, 
I happiest of ‘ creation’s lords.’ My seeming pleasant suit to press: 
You’d thought I’d ne’er known earthly In these affairs time should not waste, 
cares I found her in, as you might guess. 
To see me trip across the boards. My lady in, my love I told, 
We found our seats; I close beside her, When she, her pretty face averting. 
With no grim mamma vis-a-vis, Replied in studied accents cold, 
To watch how I with whispers plied ‘Well, truly, sir, I was but flirting 1 .' ” 
her, 
Or note how oft she smiled on me. 
John Ingram. 
