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blessed country, and the acquisition of a cluster of bright wild 
flowers, glittering with nature’s gems of dew. 
Spring is certainly the season of England’s greatest beauty. 
The vine-wreathed Autumns of southern climes may, and 
must be, rich and rare; but we will not envy them while 
our own dear Land has her fairy-like realms of orchards in 
blossom, and in loveliness, as in fame, is a queen indeed. 
What can be more luxuriantly picturesque than the appear¬ 
ance of the world of Flowers which our cider counties display 
at this season ? Indeed, the small garden orchards attached 
to road-side cottages all over England are gems of beauty. 
The various tints and texture of the blossoms, from the jjure 
white of the peai' and cherry to the deep rose-coloured 
buds of the apple and crab, and the young delicate gi’een 
of the just opening leaves, do truly seem like a festal robe 
worn by the joyous earth in honour of the Spring-time. 
The Broom too, “ the honny, bonny Broom,” waves its slender 
sprays in the soft breeze, and we look from the gay, gold- 
coloured butterfly-blossoms it bears on the hills, to the small 
and more delicate w'hite ones of the gardens, and know not 
which ai’e most beautiful. The Guelder Rose-trees look as 
if overburthened with their globes of silvery flowers; and the 
aromatic Syringa breathes afar off her delicious perfume, which 
emulates in sweetness, as her flowers do in beauty, the famed 
orange blossoms of southern lands. 
