OB., LANGUAGE OF FLOWEES. 203 
the moss rose. 
Ha,vo you ever imagined, when you 
stood beside the sweet rose, and admired 
its beauty, and inhaled its fragrance, that 
it was talking all the while? Listen to a 
conversation which the pious Krummacher 
once thought he heard, as he stood admi¬ 
ring the moss-rose, and the simple dress 
with which the hand of nature, or rather 
the hand of nature’s God has clothed it. 
Here it is :— 
“ The angel who takes care of the flow¬ 
ers, and sprinkles upon them the dew in 
