MORAL OF FLOWERS. 67 
And is not a Flower a thing of beauty ?”— 
is it not a thing of surpassing loveliness ? Who 
can gaze on its exquisitely perfect form, its un¬ 
rivalled brilliancy of hue, Avithout a thrill of 
admiration, and a sensation of pleasure ?— 
pleasure which passeth not away, but dwelleth 
on the memory like a pleasant perfume, that 
remains long after the object from whence it 
emanated has perished; and why is this ? 
because of its purity, its freedom from aught 
that is gross and therefore perishable. None, 
we venture to aver, can gaze on those beautiful 
alphabets of creation,” those adorners of 
earth’s bosom, unmoved, but such as have hearts 
utterly corrupted, and rendered impervious to 
every sweet and gentle impression; and even 
such will at times feel stirring within them at 
the sight, thoughts that have long slumbered, 
and awakened by those silent monitors,” the 
still small voice of conscience” is heard, in¬ 
citing them to shake off the trammels of guilt, 
and return to the ways of pleasantness and 
peace, wherein their feet once trod, when— 
