58 THE FLORAL TELEGRAPH. 
“ Well, Mr. Honeycomb,” she 
continued, “ I assure you, that after 
the flood we had more than enough 
to do — resuscitating our drowned 
flowers all over the world. Ah ! we 
were a draggletailed set then, slop¬ 
ping about through the slimy mire ; 
and, what was most unfortunate of 
all, we never could get our respec¬ 
tive charges to look up again with 
their pristine beauty, or to embalm 
the air with the richness of the an¬ 
tediluvian fragrance. Roses began 
to wear cankers in their hearts, as 
well as thorns upon their stalks ; and 
my own dear, sweet Violet, how art 
thou shorn of thy glory ! Where now 
