CHILDEEN AND PLOWEES. 95 
“ Oh, lovely flowers ! the earth's rich diadem, 
Bright resurrection from her sable tomb, 
Te are the eyes of Nature ! her best gem— 
With you she tints her face with living bloom, 
And breathes delight in gales of rich perfume: 
Emblems are ye of heaven, and heavenly joy. 
And starry brilliance in a world of gloom, 
Peace, innocence, and guileless infancy. 
Claim sisterhood with you, and holy is the tie.”—Q. 
Aye ! in sooth, holy is the tie !” Is there 
one of our readers who will not subscribe to 
the truth of this sentiment ? Is there aught so 
pure, so perfectly blameless in its nature, as the 
love we cherish in early years for all things fair 
and gentle, but more especially for flowers; 
may they find a place in our bosoms, when we 
become traffickers in the busy mart, and actors 
in the great drama of existence ? Whence arises 
the pleasure that we. ever experience at the 
sight of a flower, but from an association of 
ideas ? Does not the jaded mind immediately 
return to drink from the untainted waters of 
that fount of feeling, the stream of which, since 
it left the emerald meads of childhood, has 
become turgid to the eye, and bitter to the taste ? 
