52 THE FLORAL TELEGRAPH. 
“ Well, in those patriarchal times,” 
she continued, changing perceptibly 
the solemnity of her tone into a much 
gayer modulation, u every distinct 
species of Flowers had its presiding 
genius, whose office it was to wanton 
over the face of the earth, and dis¬ 
perse the seed, each of her particular 
care. Then, then we were a happy 
race. The angels of the Inapproach¬ 
able did not then disdain to mingle 
with us, and to permit our paeans to 
the throne surrounded with glory to 
mix with their’s—how are we fallen !” 
“ Madam,” said I, with the most 
amiable jjetit-maitre air that I could 
assume, and wishing by the request 
