THE FLORAL TELEGRAPH. 35 
ranged as they are on the opposite 
page. 
“ There/’ said she, cc is my card • 
read it.” 
I received the symbol with that pro¬ 
found air of sapience with which a 
Bishop may be supposed to pore over 
a difficult Latin quotation, the poor 
man being conscious the while that he 
has long forgotten all his classical 
learning. 
“ Madam,” said I, endeavouring 
to cover my ignorance with the so¬ 
lemnity of my phraseology, “ the 
flowers are pretty, but their meaning 
is occult.” 
“ It is fashionable to be a little 
