THE FLORAL TELEGRAPH. 107 
I will protest to the last day of my 
existence; but certainly a change 
came o’er the spirit of my compa¬ 
nion ; for she was no longer the 
tender and the bereaved beauty, 
mourning for her beloved ones, but 
the intrepid and satirical coquet; for, 
when I asked her if the two bewitch¬ 
ing butterflies that I saw arising from 
out the petals of the Flowers were 
the souls of Lionel and Violetta, she 
actually gave me, Mr. Horace Ho¬ 
neycomb, a very considerably painful 
slap on the right cheek, the concus¬ 
sion whereof actually threw my dark- 
green spectacles from off' my nose 
into the high grass, and they, like 
