AND FLOWERS OF POETRY. 149 
“The young duke of Burgundy, grandson of Louis the Fif¬ 
teenth, being fond of cultivating these flowers, a flatterer per¬ 
suaded him, by substituting other pots of pinks for those which 
the prince had reared, that the pinks which he planted came 
up and flourished in one night. Thus persuaded, the youthful 
prince believed that Nature obeyed his will. One night, not 
being able to sleep, he expressed a wish to get up, but was told 
that it was then the middle of the night: ‘ Well,’ replied he, 
‘ I will have it be day.’ ” 
Oh, woman’s love ! at times it may 
Seem cold or clouded, but it burns 
With true, undeviating ray, 
And never from its idol turns. 
Its sunshine is a smile — a frown 
The heavy cloud that weighs it down: 
A tear its weapon is — beware 
Of woman’s tears — there’s danger there! — 
Its sweetest place on which to rest, 
A constant and confiding breast: 
Its life to meet—its death to part — 
Its sepulchre, a broken heart. 
Croly. 
LUXURY. 
HORSE-CHESTNUT. 
This magnificent tree was originally brought from India, 
and has been naturalized in Europe for more than two centu¬ 
ries, but yet we do not see it raise its gorgeous head among our 
_ 
