14 
LANGUAGE OP FLO WE US. 
preaching, have turned away unimproved and 
uninstructed, for :— 
"From the first bud, whose verdant head 
The winter’s lingering tempest braves, 
To those, which ’mid the foliage dead, 
Shrink latest to their annual graves ; 
All are for use, for health, or pleasure given, 
All speak, in various ways, the bounteous hand of Heaven." 
Charlotte Smith. 
These are the sentiments of a pure mind and 
a lofty imagination, and the authoress of the 
following words may well claim sisterhood with 
her from whom they emanated :— u And who 
dare say that flowers do not speak a language, 
a clear and intelligible language ? Ask Words¬ 
worth, for to him they have spoken, until they 
excited ‘ thoughts that lie too deep for tears;’ 
ask Chaucer, for he held companionship with 
them in the meadows ; ask any of the poets, 
ancient or modern. Observe them, reader, love 
them, linger over them, and ask your own 
heart if they do not speak affection, benevolence, 
and piety ?” In confirmation of this, we also 
quote some stanzas from another poet, whose 
