FLORAL CONVERSATION. 
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see the ghost of Hamlet’s father with his arm round the 
waist of Jessica. 
Poor Jessica ! she came to us as joyous as a thrush in 
summer, and she sang awhile blithely and sweetly in the 
tomb of Hamlet’s father. But when he resumed, as he 
shortly did, his old sepulchral ways, a chill struck the 
heart of our singing-bird, and all her mirthful music was 
changed into a plaint and wail. She had come from a 
home of love and cheerfulness, and she drooped in his 
arctic atmosphere, as an Orchid would droop in an ice¬ 
house. 
“ For a trouble weighed upon her, 
And perplexed her night and morn, 
With the burden of an honor, 
Unto which she was not born.” 
Six years after her marriage-day, they bore her slowly 
through the dark avenue of cedars, and the chaplain came 
in his white surplice to welcome her with words of hope 
and peace. 
Three children were born to them. The marquis, who 
soon showed himself to be a true “chip of the old (ice) 
block, ’ ’ and a ghostling of amazing promise ; Lord Evelyn 
and the Lady Alice, who, happily for us all, resembled 
their mother. Never were two brothers so urtljke each 
