THE FLORAL TELEGRAPH. 5 
in the far west, when I strolled into 
the spacious Flower-Garden of my 
hospitable host, unattended by aught 
save the gentle suggestions that were 
crowding on my imagination, and 
springing up so rapidly from the beau¬ 
tiful scene around me. I was far from 
thinking of faery visitations, or of 
ghostly greetings from existences in 
which the mortal and the immortal 
are so delicately blended. I had no 
occasion to appeal to the ideal for 
heart-triumphings, so delicious when 
we feel ourselves, as it were, alone 
with our Maker, and with the beauti¬ 
ful among His works. The real, in 
all the simplicity of their glory, were 
b 3 
