The flowers personified: being a translation of Grandville's "Les Fleurs animées."

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4154-S. 36 . C

HARVARD COLLEGE
LIBRARY

THE BEQUEST OF
EVERT JANSEN WENDELL

CLASS OF 1M2

OF NEW YORK

11

'1

THE

FLOWEBS PERSONIFIED.

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^

THE

FLOWERS PERSONIFIED:

BEING A TRANSLATION OF GRANDVILLE'8

46

LES FLEURS ANIMEES."

BY H. CLEAVELAND, ESQ.

JlluBtratcir toitf) Qttd (Sngramttgs,

BEAUTIFULLY COLORED.

NEW YORK:

PUBLISHED BY R. MARTIN, 46 ANN-STREET.

1849.

■^Hr*

Y/5^. sejS

1/

nAHVARO COll IQt IIIRMY

MOM

THI NQUIIT OF

CVIIT MMIN WINDIU

1118

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V

MGROFUMED
ATHARVARO

\

o< v*

. a ■ - i ,

CONTENTS.

r

Paob

IimoDUOTKHi. By Alphonse Karr 5

Soliloquy, do. 9

The Flower Fairy 15

The Story of Two Shepherd****, the Blonde
mud the Brunette; and of a Queen of

Ranee 22

The Flower of our Choice 39

How the Poet Jacobus supposed he had

found a subject lor an Epic Poem 42

TTie Language of Flowers 50

A Trick of the Flower Fairy : 67

The Flower of Home 73

The Sultana Tulipia 76

Fragments taken at random from the Album

of the Hose 84

The Last Days of the Rose: 1797 to 1846. . 96

Nocturne, (Night Flowers) 101

Narcswa .*. 104

Aubade, (the Earliest Flower) 110

Serious Dispute in relation to the Violet, be-
tween the Flower Fairy and an Academy

which prefers to remain Anonymous 113

Canzone, (the Flower of Foigetfulness) 127

Sister Nenuphar 129

A Petition, (the Flowers of the Ball-room) . . 134

The Myrtle and the Laurel 136

Marguertine, (the Oracle of the Meadows) . 145

Camellia's Regrets 147

Ftato, (the Everlasting Flower) 157

Chevrette, (the Pretty Goatherd) 159

Altro Canzone, (the Flower of Remembrance) 168

Contrast and Affinity 170

Autre Margueritine, (the Clover) 184

A Lesson in Botanical Philosophy 186

Autre Ghaiel, (the Aloes) 195

Contrast and Affinity. Continued and Ended. 198

Marine, (the Acacia and the Wave) 212

The Hemlock 214

(the Weeping WiDow) 218

Pass

IWfashions of Flowers > 220

Musette, (the Hawthorn) 230

The Last Cacique 232

Fileuae, (the Flax) C. 253

The Truth in regard to Clemence-Isaure.... 255

Nocturne, (the Poppy) 259

The Ass in the Lion's Overcoat 261

Epithalame, (the Orange-blossom) . . 268

The Convent of the Capuchins . .. : 270

Duettino, (the Snowdrop and' the Prim-
rose) '.. 279

The Decameron 281

Sospiri, (the Bindweed) 293

The Hawthorn and the Pruner. A Story ... '295

Chanson, (the Vine) 298

A Chapter on Bouquets 300

Romance, (the Forget-me-not) Set to

Music v 306

Perfumes 309

Fable, (the Scabious and the Marigold) 315

The Traffic in Flowers 317

The Lost Flowers 325

Guzla, (the Cypress) 328

Critical and Philosophical Letter from Doctor

Jacobus to the Author 330

The Author's Reply to Doctor Jacobus 341

Elegie, (the Wounded Flower) 343

Crowns and Garlands 345

Autre Guzla, (the Jessamine) 351

Flowers changed to Animals 353

Political and National Flowers 358

The Names of Flowers and of Women 360

The Wall-flower 363

Tea and Coffee 368

The Music of Flowers 371

The Festival of the lilac 373

The Tuberose and the Jonquille 375

The Ball of the Flowers 378

Erratum 383

LIST OF EMBELLISHMENTS.

BEAUTIFULLY COLORED TITLE-PAGE.

The Annual Bluebottle and Cornpopfy.
Lilt.

Heartsease.
Tobacco.
Tulip.
Rose.
Violet.
Daffodil.
Water Lily.
Myrtle.

TlUSTLS.
POFPY.

Daisy.

Laurel.

Cambllia.

Golden Eternal Flower.

The Honeysuckle..
Marvel of Peru.
Plnk.
Hemlock.
Pomegranate.
Sunflower.
Flax.

Wild Robe
Orange.
Monkshood.
Marshmallow.
Primrose and Snowdrop.
Vervain.

Crown Imperial and Hortensja.
Cactus.
Sweet Pea.

LADIES' HORTICULTUKE.

INTRODUCTION,

BY

ALPHONSE EABR.

Will you never, ladies, take pity on those poor flowers, which
are the most frequent tribute laid at your feet! Will you not
remember that they are severed from their parent stems; that
they have been brought to you that you may see them die, and
inhale their last fragrant sighs t

The flowers I pity most, are not those which are given you as
bouquets. These receive from the florist's knife a death suffi-
ciently rapid. I would plead for those poor unfortunates, which
are brought to you in pots and boxes, with a little earth around
their roots, and whose death-struggle is so protracted and painful.
And do you feel a cruel delight in seeing them suffer thus I Have
the poets whose verses are twined round mirlitons * or folded in
bon-bons, by telling you that flowers are your rivals, inspired
you with unkind feelings towards them ?

• Mirliton — a rustif flute or reed.

6 INTRODUCTION.

They rivals of yours! — they only add to your charms. In
crowds they come daily to die in your hair, or on your bosoms, —
or more cruelly to perish, as they lie forgotten on the top of the
cabinet, or on the cushioned seat in the ball-room or theatre.

Nay, — it must be that you love flowers. You must sometimes
feel a wish to succor them, as they languish, wither, and die upon
your flower-stands. But to do this, you should learn something
of their habits. The water which saves one plant by moistening
its roots, will but drown and destroy another. One kind requires
air — another, heat Coltsfoot and the winter heliotrope die from
that very warmth of your apartments, which makes the camellia
flourish.

Have you not a feeling akin to friendship for the plant which,
under your care, flowers the second time, and which is indebted
to you for its brilliant hues and its delicate perfume ! We love
those whom we have aided. Moralists have often talked absurdlv
about the duty of the party benefited. It is the benefactor who
has all the good of the act, and who owes and feels the gratitude.
If he expect it, he is a simpleton; if he demand it, he is a
usurer.

This flower, which I have tended — this plant, once weak and
drooping, to which I have restored life and health, — it is no
longer a plant — a flower; — it is my own flower — my own
plant.

How pleasant the shade beneath trees of my own planting !
This bean which, with blue and fragrant clusters, curtains my
house, — I cannot forget that it was I who made it so strong and
prolific. I placed about its roots the nourishment which it re-
quires, and reared for its protection, this paling on the south. To

r

INTRODUCTION. 7

me, especially, belongs its perfume. It is I who enjoy it most, —
so flourishing it looks — so luxuriant its growth.

Here, then, is a delightful, an unforbidden science — a science
grateful to the heart

It is not like Botany, which tells you how to dry flowers, and
to call them hard names in Greek.

Gardening shows you how to make them more beautiful and
flourishing.

Rescue, then, from man, what, in the country, is still called <
Flora's sceptre. No woman would ever have thrown these poor
flowers into the waves of political agitation, and the mad strife of
party.

The lily and the violet have, each in turn, had their triumph
and proscription. In 1815, the imperial was brought to the guil-
lotine. No woman would ever have played that ridiculous farce
of the red pinks, by means of which certain persons succeeded in
making you suppose them, when ten paces off, members of the
Legion of Honor, and showed, when nearer, that they were only
blockheads.

The creation of flowers ! — this is the only work in which God /
admits of cooperation. Well may you be proud of the new plant,
which sprang from a seed of your sowing ; which exists only in
your garden; whose colors none may see — whose odors none
may inhale, but those whom you permit; — as God has given
other plants to be enjoyed by all.

Let men of science discover a new planet, which sends us

8 INTRODUCTION.

neither light nor heat; — it is for woman to discover and create a
rose unknown before, and exhaling a new perfume.

I once knew two lovers, who were severed by a cruel destiny.
At the close of a long separation they died, without again seeing
one another. They were not permitted to correspond, — but to
one of them an ingenious device occurred. Without exciting
suspicion, they sent to each other the seeds of the flowers which
they mutually cultivated. They thus knew, though two hundred
leagues apart, that they had the same objects of interest At the
same season of the year, and on the same day, they saw the same
flowers expand, and they inhaled the same odors. This was a
pleasure — and it was their only pleasure.

ALPHONSE KARIt

1

i/

SOLILOQUY,

BY

ALPHONSE KARR.

' We may love flowers in several ways.

The naturalist flattens and dries them. He then inters them
in a sort of cemetery, called a herbarium, and underneath them
writes pompous epitaphs in a barbarous language.

Amateurs love only rare flowers ; and these they cultivate, not
so much to see and smell them, as to make a display. Their en-
joyment consists far less in possessing certain flowers, than in
knowing that others do not possess them. Accordingly, they
think nothing of those splendid and beautiful flowers, which God's
bounty has made universal — as much so as the air and the
sunshine.

^ When, on some bright day of February, you find under a bush
the first primrose in bloom, how delighted are you with this
earliest smile of Spring !

You dream of shady bowers, and of warbling birds.

3

10 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

You dream of quiet, of innocence, and of love.

But this is because you are not a genuine amateur.

Were you such, you would not allow yourself to be thus sud-
denly moved by mere poetic impulses. You would at once
examine the heart of the primrose, to learn whether the stamens
be longer than the pistil. Should the pistil be found to surpass
the stamens, a real amateur could feel no satisfaction in a flower
so incorrectly formed. He would value it less than the stones in
the street. Should such a flower ever venture to bloom in his
garden, he would pull it up, and trample it under his feet

With the naturalist, there is but one rose, — the single-rose —
the dog-rose.

The double-rose, the cabbage-rose, the moss-rose, — whose sta-
mens have been changed to petals, — are monsters; just like men
of science, who, from being single-hearted, good-natured persons,
have become double and triple by science.

The amateur does not admit the cabbage-rose or the moss-
rose into his collections. These are the vulgar, — no longer
Jlowers, but nosegays merely. The amateur will coolly say to
you: — "Look at this treasure — this rose-bush. I raised it my-
self, from the seed. Though five years old, it has not yet
flowered.

"My friends have tried hard to obtain cuttings from this
precious plant. But I have firmly resisted. I shall continue to be
its sole possessor."

But there are others of a happier turn, who love all those

SOLILOQUY. 11

flowers that do them the honor to bloom in their little gardens.
Such derive from flowers their purest and most unfailing enjoy-
ments. Yet even here we must make two classes. One loves, in
flowers, certain remembrances. These lie hid beneath their
petals, like the hamadryads under the bark of the oaks.

s He remembers that the lilacs were in bloom, the first time he
met her.

^ It was beneath the arbor of honeysuckle, that, sitting together at
the close of day, they exchanged those tender vows, which, alas !
only one of them kept unbroken.

^--Attempting once to pluck for her a branch of hawthorn, he
scratched his hand — and she placed on the wound a piece of
court-plaster, having first pressed it to her rosy lips.

At another time they went round the bank of the pond in
search of forget-me-nots. Then there were the wall-flowers
growing on the old country church, where they used to meet
every Sunday.

Thus, on each returning spring, these recollections are born
and blossom with the flowers.

But a period at length arrives, when these youthful and true
emotions are regarded as illusions ; the period when we fancy that
we are growing wiser, because we begin to lose our sensibilities.

Yet, in fact, we are then merely the sport of other illusions.

That end of the opera-glass which diminishes the apparent size
of objects, is not less correct than that which magnifies.

/

12 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Again; — flowers are sometimes loved for their own sakes alone.

•You love them, then, for their beauty and fragrance, as well as
for the pains they have cost you.

You discover, then, that all the wealth of the rich is but an imi-
tation, more or less successful, of the wealth of the poor.

You see that diamonds, obtained sometimes at such expense of
character, and of which we are so vain, would gladly equal, if
they could, the drops of dew as they sparkle at sunrise.

You perceive that flowers are living and fragrant gems.

Here is a picture which represents tolerably well those three
trees and that grass-plot. It cost a hundred times the value of
the grass-plot and trees themselves. Now let a model of the
same be attempted in wood or marble. Should the artist so far
succeed, that you can at once perceive the resemblance, it will be
necessary to cut down a half-league of these old beech-trees, to
pay for his copy of a single one.

Thus, then, we learn that God loves the poor, and that he
allows them to approach him, as he does little children.

When, wounded in the struggle of life, we have retired from
the contest/ how apt are we to dwell on every thing which we
have loved, and every thing that has deceived us ; on those deli-
cious flowers, which bore bitter and poisonous fruits, those
promises which proved false, and those hopes which ended in dis-
appointment !

^ Then, in the enclosure of his garden, with no companions but

I

SOLILOQUY. 13

his beloved flowers, one may feel that in this, his latest attachment,
he has no such disappointment to fear.

The poisonous pods of the thorn-apple never succeed the rose-
blossoms of the peach — as the bitter fruits of forgetfulness and
hatred follow the delightful flowers of love and friendship.

s And when these cherished flowers shed their petals beneath
the sun's hot blaze, you know in what month, and on what day of
the following year, they will return to the same spot in your gar-
den, and bloom again, all smiling, young, beautiful, and fragrant.

Happy they who love flowers ! Happy, indeed, if they love
flowers alone !

ALPHONSE KARR.

THE FLOWER FAIRY.

Learned antiquaries have ascertained and plainly described the
spot where the earthly paradise was situated. We know with
what trees those celestial grounds were planted, and what coun-
tries adjoined them on the north, the south, the east, and the west.
Thanks to these researches, the topography of Eden would ap-
pear to advantage in the charts of the Land Registry, or among
the files of the Recorder of Deeds.

No philosopher has busied himself in determining exactly the
geographical site of the palace occupied by the Flower Fairy.
We are left, in this respect, to mere conjecture. Some place it in
the kingdom of Cashmere ; others say it is south-southeast from
Delhi. While some think it is on the table-land of the Himalaya,
others suppose it to be situated in the centre of the island of Java;
in the midst of some vast forest, which, by its labyrinthine and
prolific vegetation, protects it from unseasonable visits, and from
the research of exploring travellers.

We alone are acquainted with the route to the Flower Land —
but a solemn oath forbids us to reveal it The newspapers would
get there as soon as we could ; and God only knows to what con-

16 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

dition they would soon bring that happy country, which as yet,
has experienced no revolution, but the one which we are about to
describe.

If the reader would accompany us thither, he must suffer his
eyes to be bandaged. We must also examine his pockets, lest,
like Tom Thumb, he scatter seeds on the way, to identify his
path. — Now we have commenced our journey, and the bandage
may drop as soon as we arrive.

Do you not feel around your brows a softer and sweeter air
than you ever breathed before I Do you not perceive, in spite of
the obscurity that veils your sight, a light more brilliant, and pen-
etrating, and delightful, even than that which shines on your na-
tive land ? It is because our journey is accomplished. We are
y now in the domains of the Flower Fairy.

Here is a garden where the productions of every zone and
^lime are united, and live together in friendly brotherhood. The
brilliant tropical flower is seen by the side of the violet, and the
aloes near the periwinkle. Palm-trees spread their fan-like leaves
above a grove of acacias, whose white flowers are faintly tinged
with red. Jasmines and pomegranates mingle their silver stars
and their crimson glow. The rose, the pink, the lily, and a thou-
sand flowrers which arrest the eye, but which we need not name,
here mingle in harmonious groups, or form beautiful arabesques.
All these flowers live, breathe, and converse, as they interchange
odors.

Round the feet of the trees, shrubs, and plants, countless little
rills flow, wildly meandering. The water runs over diamonds,
whose light flickers and plays, as it comes reflected with tints of
gold, of azure, and of opal. Here butterflies of every shape and

THE FLOWER FAIRY. 17

hue, shun or chase each other in their mingled flight. Now they
float — now wheel — now alight — and now rise, with wings of
amethyst, of emerald, of onyx, of turquoise, and of sapphire.
There is not a bird in the garden, — yet you seem to be enveloped
by a universal harmony, as in one of those concerts which we
hear in our dreams — and this is the breeze which sighs, murmurs,
plays, and sings some melody to every flower.

The palace of the fairy is not unworthy of this wondrous
place. A genius, who is her friend, has collected those threads of
silver and gold, which in the mornings of early spring, float from
plant to plant These he has braided, interwoven, and formed
into graceful festoons. The whole palace is composed of this
charming filigree. Rose-leaves form the roof, while the blue bind-
weed fills the interstices of the light trellis, which extends like a
curtain round the fairy — who, indeed, is seldom at home, occu-
pied, as she is, in visiting her flowers, and watching their hap-
piness.

Does any one think that a flower can never be unhappy t It
would seem to be impossible — and yet nothing is more certain.
Our fairy found this by her own experience.

One fine spring evening, as the Flower Fairy was gently rock- f
ing in her hammock of interwoven convolvuli, idly thinking of
those other mysterious flowers, which we call stars, suddenly she
thought she heard a distant rustling — a confused noise. "It is
the sylphs," thought she, " who come to woo the flowers ;" and she
relapsed into her revery. But soon the sounds became louder, and
the golden sand resounded under steps more and more distinct.
The fairy sat erect, and beheld approaching a long procession of
flowers. They were of all ages, and of every rank. Full-blown
Roses, already on their decline, there walked, surrounded by their
young families of buds. All distinctions were overlooked. The

18 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

aristocratic Tulip gave her arm to the vulgar and plebeian Pink.
The Geranium, proud as a financier, walked side by side with the
tender Anemone — and the haughty Amaryllis listened without
much disdain, to the rather vulgar conversation of the Bladder-
nut-tree. As often happens in well-arranged societies, at times of
great emergency, a forced reconciliation had taken place among
the flowers.

Lilies, with their brows encircled by fireflies, and Bellflowers,
with glow-worms shining, like living lanterns, among their petals,
lighted the procession, which was brought up, in a somewhat dis-
orderly manner, by a careless troop of Daisies.

/ The procession drew up in good order before the palace of the
astonished fairy, and an eloquent Hellebore, stepping from the
ranks, thus addressed her: —

" Your Majesty :

" The flowers here present beg you to accept their homage, and
to lend a favorable ear to their humble complaint For thousands
of years we have supplied mankind with their themes of compari-
son ; we alone have given them all their metaphors ; indeed, with-
out us poetry could not exist Men lend to us their virtues and
their vices; their good and their bad qualities; — and it is time
that we should have some experience of what these are. We are
tired of this flower-life. We wish for permission to assume the
human form, and to judge, for ourselves, whether that which they
say above, of our character, is agreeable to truth."

A murmur of approbation followed this speech.

The fairy could not believe the testimony of her own eyes and
ears.

f

THE FLOWER FAIRY. 19

• What," said she, " do you wish to change your existence, so
like to that of the gods, for the miserable life which men lead ? '
What is there wanting to make you happy ? Have you not, for
your adornment, diamonds of dew? — conversations with the
zephyrs for your entertainment? — and the kisses of butterflies, to
make you dream of love ?"

"The dews make me take cold," «said, with a yawn, the Belle
de Nuit

u The songs of the Zephyr tire me to death," said a Rose.
" He has repeated the same thing for these thousand years. The
poets of an academy must surely be more amusing."

" What care I," murmured a sentimental Periwinkle, " for the
caresses of the Butterfly, since he never participates in the enjoy-
ment? The Butterfly is the very symbol of selfishness. He
would not know his own mother, — and his children, in their turn,
would not recognise him. How can he have learned any thing
of love? He has neither a past, nor a future; he remembers
nothing, and is himself forgotten. Men alone know how to love."

The fairy turned upon the Periwinkle a mournful look, which
seemed to say, — " And thou, too !" She felt that her efforts to
put down the rebellion would be unavailing, — still she resolved to
make one more attempt

" Once upon the earth," said she to her revolted subjects, " how
do you intend to live ?"

" I shall be an author," replied the Wild-rose.

" And I a shepherdess," added the Corn-poppy.

20 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" I shall come out as a marriage-maker, — I as a schoolmaster, —
I as a teacher of the piano, — I as a trinket-vender, — and I as a
fortune-teller" — exclaimed all together, the Orange-flower, the
Thistle, the Hortensia, the Iris, and the Daisy.

The Larkspur talked of his debut at the opera, and the Rose
vowed that when she should have become a duchess, she would
have the satisfaction of crowning rostires* without number.

Many flowers were there which had already lived, and which
declared that life among men was very comfortable and agreeable.
Narcissus and Adonis had been the secret instigators of this re-
volt,— especially Narcissus, who longed to know how a beautiful
youth would look in a Venetian mirror.

The Flower Fairy remained for a while plunged in thought.
She then addressed the rebels in a sad but decided voice : —

" Go, deluded flowers ; — let it be as you propose. Ascend upon
the earth, and try human life. Ere long you will come back to me."

The history of these flowers, which were changed to women,
you will read in this volume. We have collected these adventures
wherever we could find them, — traversing all lands, and question-
ing all classes of people, — but keeping no record of dates or
epochs. The flowers have lived, to a certain extent, everywhere.
You may have been acquainted with some of them, and not sus-
pected it. It is very unfortunate that they have not thought fit to
make more disclosures, or to write their own memoirs. This
would have relieved us from much trouble — would have saved us
many steps, and, more than all, many mistakes.

* Young maidens who have won the prize of goodness.

1

THE FLOWER FAIRY. 21

In concluding this introduction, we must inform you that the
fairy did not grant the desired permission, without silently resolv-
ing that she would be revenged. The next morning her garden
was a desert. One flower alone remained — the solitary Heath-
plant, which blooms perpetually.

Symbol of undying love ! she well knew that for her there was
no place on earth.

1

THE STORY

OF

TWO SHEPHERDESSES,

THE BLONDE AND THE BRUNETTE:

AND OF A

QUEEN OF FRANCE.

I.

The prettiest girls in the village, beyond all dispute, are Bleu-
ette and Coquelicot: — Bleuette, with her fair hair and blue eyes;
— Coquelicot, with form so elastic, and her bright rosy cheeks.

" Faith !" said the country judge, a few days since, " Bleuette
looks charmingly, when, with modest air and downcast eyes, she
trips over the village green."

" Udsbuddikins !" exclaimed the village squire, last Sunday, while
seeing his vassals dance, — "this little Coquelicot has a most en-
chanting way of dancing. I am certain that there is not, at court,
a more graceful girl. See, there, what vassals I have."

•*r

--wV"l« . -

ULJ.^ jijiW-""- '.'»

J

/

I

n
/

THE TWO SHEPHERDESSES. 23

In fact, it would have been impossible to find two prettier faces
than those of Coquelicot and Bleuette. They dwelt in the same
cottage — sung the same songs — tended the same turtle-doves —
and they had but one flock between them.

The only thing not held by them in common, was their hearts.
Bleuette had promised hers to Lucas, while Coquelicot had sworn
eternal affection for Blaise.

In every other respect they were very prudent.

Notwithstanding that good fortune so often provokes envy,
everybody in the village loved Bleuette and Coquelicot. If the
wolf strangled a sheep or two in the neighborhood, he never med-
dled with the flock of Bleuette and Coquelicot. If master Re-
nard mercilessly twisted the necks of Maturin's, of Bruneau's, or
of Thibaut's fowls, he always respected those of Coquelicot and
Bleuette. The hail-storm never harmed the raspberries on their
bushes, nor the grapes on their trellis. Their hives were always
filled with the richest honey. They were happy, — and so happy,
that many persons, and especially the schoolmaster, maintained
that they were fairies, or at least the fairies' god-daughters.

It is well known, that whenever they seated themselves under a
tree, a nightingale would immediately alight thereon ; or if they
walked, arm in arm, through the paths in the wheat-field, the
cricket and the grasshopper would advance to the edge of the fur-
row, to salute them on their way, and sing their welcome, — as
well becomes a polite grasshopper, and a cricket who knows his
duty.

24 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

II.

WHAT THE TWO SHEPHERDESSES SAY TO ONE ANOTHER

BEFORE THEY GO TO BED.

" Another happy day, dear Bleuette, has glided away."

m

u To be succeeded, dear Coquelicot, by one like it on the mor-
row."

" Dost thou regret thy old form !"

" Wouldst thou cease to be a woman !"

" No."

" Neither would I."

" How fortunate that we selected this modest village, where we
can live so quietly. Happiness is found only in the country."

" With Lucas, who is so good."

" And with Blaise, who plays the bagpipe so well."

" Nothing in the world is so delightful as to be a woman."

" To be happy, one must have a heart."

Then the two maidens placed themselves before their mirror.

" Am I not prettier than when I was only a bluebottle V9 said
one.

m**

THE TWO SHEPHERDESSES. 25

" Who would not prefer me to all the corn-poppies on earth V9
added the other.

Thus the blonde and the brunette would converse together
every evening. Then they would embrace each other, and sleep
until the first cooings of their turtles awoke them.

III.

A COUNTRY JUDGE'S IDEA.

Finding himself worn out, wrinkled and withered, the coun-
try judge began to think of marrying ; and inasmuch as he was
humpbacked, lame, toothless, bald, and asthmatic, he concluded
that he ought to have the prettiest girl in the village. And thus
it was that he cast his eyes on Bleuette.

IV.

A SQUIRE'S NOTION.

The squire of the village lived in an old, cracked tower, which
admitted rain, wind, hail, snow, and was open, indeed, to all kinds
of weather. His only domestic was a peasant, who attended to
the hogs by day, and at evening waited on his master. But this
did not hinder him from talking of his chateau, and of his ser-
vants. He possessed, nevertheless, the right of jurisdiction, both
high and low, over a territory which no longer belonged to him,
and through the space of a league around, could hang any one he
pleased.

26 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

One fine day, when his gout, his catarrh, and his rheumatism
left him a little ease, it occurred to him, that hitherto he had been
living a selfish life; — and, noble gentleman as he was, he formed the
generous resolution to share, henceforth, with some human being,
the advantages of his position ; he determined, in fact, to insure
the happiness of some woman. His choice rested on Coquelicot

V.

THE TWO DELICATE-COLORED TUNICS.

In the mean time, the two shepherdesses, unsuspicious of the
honors which were about to descend upon them, were quietly en-
joying the love of their shepherds.

Lucas sung his woes in a silken tunic of palest green, while
Blaise, in a coat of blue not less delicate than his friend's green
one, made all the region round echo to the strains of his rural
pipes. The fleece of Robin, Bleuette's favorite sheep, was not
more curly than the hair of Lucas. The cheeks of Blaise were
so plump and round, that he always looked as if blowing a pipe.
When they were seen together, in their coats of pale blue and
green, with their crooks and shepherd-bags, ornamented with rib-
ands, everybody declared that shepherds so perfect as Lucas and
Blaise, could not help loving shepherdesses so accomplished as
Bleuette and Coquelicot.

Bleuette and Coquelicot had promised their lovers, to pay them
with a kiss for the first nest of nightingales which they should
bring to them. To do this, they would have to wait only a year;
so that Lucas and Blaise were the happiest of mortals.

THE TWO SHEPHERDESSES. 27

VI.

A PHILOSOPHICAL REFLECTION.

Human happiness is transient as a shadow !

VII.

REGRETS.

As Lucas and Blaise were walking over the fields, thinking of
the felicity which awaited them at the end of the year, they met
Blenette and Coquelicot, who were weeping bitterly.

The shepherds began to weep also, without well knowing why.
Lucas first saw the propriety of asking for an explanation.

"That prettiest of sheep — Robin — is he sick, my dear shep-
herdess ?" asked he, in a voice soft as the hue of his tunic.

" Has my Coquelicot lost the turtle-dove which I gave her last
spring r said Blaise.

u Robin is very well," replied Bleuette ; " but I have seen the
Judge, who said to me — ' Pretty one, I mean to marry thee/ "

" And I," said Coquelicot, " have seen the squire, who said to
me — 'Lass, thou shalt be my wife/ "

The two shepherds immediately made lamentable moans.
Blaise swore that he would throw himself down a precipice.

28 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Lucas wished to hang himself with the string of his shepherd's
scrip — a string which Bleuette had given him.

Here was a scene to soften Hyrcanian tigers.

" And, worst of all," added the two shepherdesses, " the squire
and the judge are coming for us this evening, and if we refuse to
go, they will send the soldiers, and compel us to accompany them/'

The shepherds declared that they would die sooner than lose
the objects of their love, — and all four then set out for the
village.

The cottage of Bleuette and Coquelicot was already beset by
the soldiers. The squire and the judge came towards their be-
trothed. When these were about to resist, the archers at once
surrounded them. Too sensitive to endure so cruel a sight, Blaise
and Lucas fainted away.

"Alas!" exclaimed Bleuette and Coquelicot, as they were hur-
ried off, "we were too much elated with our felicity. It were
better to have remained humble flowers, lost in the furrows. We
had not then been compelled to marry a squire who has the gout,
or a humpbacked judge. Farewell, Lucas! farewell, Blaise!
Farewell forever! We have none to protect us — none to
rescue us."

As they were indulging in these lamentations, a throng of vil-
lagers came in sight upon the road. These good people had their
hands full of green branches, and were singing in chorus —

"Oh, blissful day! — of hope the spring!
Our queen returns: — sing, peasants, sing;—
Her welcome shout !w

\ *

^Svil

s-^^-

1

THE TWO SHEPHERDESSES. 29

The rest of this chorus, which was full of poetry, and well
adapted to the place, was drowned in loud and oft-repeated cries
of "Long live the Flower de Luce !" — "Long live the Queen of
France !" The queen had just arrived.

The squire, taken by surprise, was unable to present to her, on
a plate of gold, the keys of his chateau — and this annoyed him
beyond description. The judge, equally unprepared, found it out
of his power to make an address to the queen— a disappointment
which might have made him sick, had it not been the day ap-
pointed for his marriage.

VIII.

THE FLOWER DE LUCE, QUEEN OF FRANCE.

At sight of the queen, hope revived in the hearts of Bleuette
and Coquelicot

Like them, the queen was young and beautiful. Her tall, elas-
tic form, — her pallid countenance, — and the extreme mildness of
her eyes, impressed all who beheld her, as with some secret, pow-
erful charm. One no sooner saw her, than he felt himself attract-
ed towards her.

The two shepherdesses threw themselves at her feet, kissed the
edge of her long white robe, and wept

The queen gently raised them, and inquired into the cause of
their grief.

" The village squire would force me to marry him."

30 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"I am compelled to become the wife of the judge," — together
replied Coquelicot and Bleuette,

The queen, with a smile, turned her eyes from the two young
girls, to the two old men. This short survey was enough.

" Follow me," said she to the suppliants ; tf we will look into the
matter. It shall never be said that the Queen of France sees
tears shed by her subjects, without attempting to dry them."

The royal train immediately resumed its march, and the peas-
ants followed, making the air resound with their acclamations.
They sung many other choruses suited to the occasion — such as
you may easily find in any of the comic operas.

Flower de Luce had in the neighborhood a country residence,
to which she came every summer, that she might forget there the
cares of greatness and a throne. Thither she conducted the two
shepherdesses. Before retiring to her own apartments, she sum-
moned before her the squire and the judge. Instead of giving
them the harsh reception which they deserved, she administered
a gentle rebuke, friendly rather than severe. She showed them
the danger of ill-matched unions, — she made them feel how wrong
it is to employ force in matters of love, — and having finished her
remarks, gave them permission, since they were so bent on mar-
riage, to espouse, each of them, one of her ladies of honor, whom
she endowed handsomely.. The younger of these ladies had
passed her fiftieth year.

This over, she directed that she should be left alone with the
two shepherdesses.

When these three again found themselves together, the queen

THE TWO SHEPHERDESSES. 31

removed her diadem, as well as a shield of golden flower de luces,
which was attached to her robe — but an air of majesty still sat
upon her brow, and the two shepherdesses continued to regard her
— as we are apt to do the great ones of earth — trembling and
with downcast eyes.

Flower de Luce seemed to feel a momentary pleasure in wit-
nessing this embarrassment. She was, however, the first to
speak.

u How is this, dear sisters ; — do you not recognise me V9

At these words, Bleuette and Coquelicot raised their eyes. A
secret foreboding — a sudden flash of thought, crossed their minds
at the same instant

" The Lily !" they both exclaimed.

" The same," replied the queen. " I at once discovered, under
the costume of the shepherdesses, my old companions, Bleuette
and Coquelicot The flowers owe each other mutual aid on
earth ; and I am glad that I came in season to save you from the
bold schemes of this old squire and this miserable judge."

The three flowers then proceeded to speak of all which had
happened to them since they had left the garden of the fairy.
Bleuette and Coquelicot dwelt long on the happiness of being be-
loved by such 'shepherds as Blaise and Lucas.

"Beloved" murmured the Lily, — "oh yes, it must be de-
lightful."

Bleuette and Coquelicot did not understand this reflection.

32 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

They thought of nothing but complimenting the Lily on the bril-
liant position and high rank which she held in the world.

" Be in no haste to congratulate me," replied the Lily : " listen
first to my story."

" Many years ago I lived on the border of a lonely lake, in a
small castle which was hidden among the trees. Every morning
I rose with the dawn, and hailed the rising sun. At evening, I
watched his decline, and his departure seemed to take away my
life. As if they had been the only source of my strength, each
ray, as it disappeared, left me more inclined to the earth. But the
sparkling stars again restored my powers. I loved, at evening, to
sit upon my terrace, and feel the pearl-drops of dew, as they stood
upon my brow, and quivered in my hair. Sometimes, when the
heat was oppressive, I used to lean over the water, and inhale the
freshness of the wave, which gave me back my image.

u My only companion was an Ermine, which had found a refuge
in this remote solitude. Each evening and morning she came to
wash, in the lake, her delicate, white fur. The Ermine, at our
first interview, assured me that she felt drawn towards me by some
secret sympathy. We seemed influenced by the same love of soli-
tude— the same dread of vulgar contact — flfe same modest reserve.

" Without knowing exactly why, I also loved the Ermine.

" Thus might I have continued to live happy, — thanks to the
sun, the stars, the dew, the cool air and water of the lake, — and
I should add, thanks to my wise friend, the Ermine. But one day
a traveller, who had lost his way, knocked at the door. of my
castle. I could not refuse him its hospitality while the storm
raged without

THE TWO SHEPHERDESSES. 33

" The stranger was in a hunting-dress. He was young, and his
aspect was frank and noble. He told me that in the heat of the
chase, he had got separated from his companions, and being pre-
vented by the storm from retracing his steps, he had ventured to
knock at the door of my castle, little expecting, added he, to find
so fair a hostess.

" This speech made me blush.

"Having prepared his repast, and whatever else his situation
required, I was about to retire.

u ' Your pardon/ said the stranger, in a voice gentle but thrill-
ing— 'if you flee from me, I shall believe that, deceived by some
sweet though cruel illusion, I have but dreamed that a fairy ap-
peared to me. If thou art a woman, stay !'

In spite of myself, I did stay.

"We were just sitting down to table, when a loud clatter of
horses, with horns and trumpets, was heard at the castle-gate. It
was the retinue of my guest. They had discovered his track, and
had come to find him. This unknown stranger, dear sisters, was
the king of France. *

" On taking his leave of me, he bent his knee, seized and kissed
my hand, and in a low voice, said, — 'Noblest and fairest of the
fair, I must now leave thee, — but I shall return/

" Full well he kept his promise.

" I told my friend the Ermine, of the king's attentions, and of
the offer which he had made me of his hand.

34 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"'Remember/ said she, 'that true* greatness and genuine pu-
rity can live only in solitude. Take pattern from the lily, my
child. We acknowledge its beauty, chiefly because that to its
beauty, it joins an air of guileless innocence, which charms the
heart'

"This allusion troubled me. Alas! thought I, she does not
know how much haughtier the Lily became, on the day when she
requested that she might no longer be a flower. I promised, nev-
ertheless, that I would obey the Ermine's advice.

" But the king, in urging his suit, showed a pertinacity so re-
fined, and a passion so ardent, that I at last consented to be his.
I was no longer a flower — I was a woman. My weakness was
the weakness of my sex.

" The king told me how much good I could do when on the
throne, and how delightful it would be thus to make myself be-
loved. I was bound, too, he added, to bless him and his race. I
consented to be crowned.

" Henceforth, adieu to the sun, the stars, the pearly dew-drops,
and the lake. Now etiquette controls and besets me, and I sigh
amid crowds of courtiers. My oldkfriend, the Ermine, to whom
I gave free admission to the palace, comes there no more, through
fear of being sullied. A few nights since, I had a frightful dream.
I beheld the lilies all draggled in the dirt, and a beautiful young
queen, whom they were leading to the scaffold !

" How much I regret the time when, yet a simple flower, I was
the cherished symbol of innocence ! Then was I strown in the
path of virgins and chaste brides. Angel messengers from heaven
would stop a while to repose among my petals, and on the mor-

}

THE TWO SHEPHERDESSES. 35

row, taking me along in their arms, would present me to men, as
a fresh pledge of the good tidings which they came to announce.
Then I lived on air, on light and sunshine. My nights were
passed in looking at the stars, and in the intoxicating delights of
those confused murmurs which one hears in the shade : — whilst
now" —

The queen burst into tears,

Bleuette and Coquelicot endeavored to console her. They
told her that she should not magnify her troubles, — that every sit-
uation had more or less of discomfort, and that her misfortunes
had arisen from selecting a position too elevated. They then ad-
duced their own example. If, instead of being a queen, you had,
like us,, been only a simple villager, would you ever have deplored
your lot t Ever since you were a Lily, sister, you have been a
little too much given to pride. This vice has done you great
harm. You must trust it no longer, but practise patience.

After these just remarks, Coquelicot and Bleuette asked the
queen's permission to depart, that they might go and relieve the
anxiety of Blaise and Lucas. The permission was granted, —
and with it, the queen gave two large diamonds for themselves,
and for Blaise and Lucas, two bunches of trinkets.

IX.

THE RETURN.

As they crossed the palace-court, the courtiers, who were as-
sembled there in great numbers, could not help exclaiming, —
'• Zounds ! there are two pretty girls !"

36 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Coquelicot and Bleuette did not even look round, at this com-
pliment, in such haste were they again to see Lucas and Blaise.

After walking a little way, they began to run. Awdy they go,
leaping over the high tops of the lucerne — treading under foot
the clover — startling the lark upon his nest in the furrow, and the
frog that was asleep on the bank of the stream. Away, away
they go — hardly taking breath — walking and running alter-
nately.

In this way they reached the village before night.

They hastened towards their cottage, expecting to find Blaise
and Lucas on the threshold— resolved, in their despair, that
they would die on the spot that was so dear to them.

They met two bridal processions.

One was that of Lucas, who married Margot, the daughter of
Big-Peter, and the other that of Blaise, who espoused Flipotte, the
niece of Big-John*

The ingrates still wore in their hats the ribands which they
had received from Coquelicot and Bleuette.

As soon as they saw the pale blue and the pale green tunic in
the arms of their rivals, Bleuette and Coquelicot seemed as
though smitten by a thunderbolt They fell, never to rise again.
Lucas and Blaise lost, that day, two fond hearts, and two bunches
of handsome trinkets.

THE TWO SHEPHERDESSES. 37

IT IS ALL OVER.

In the village grave-yard a modest tomb has been erected for
Bleuette and Coquelicot Thither, from all the country round,
lovers come yearly, on a sort of pilgrimage.

About this tomb bluebottles and cornpoppies grow in abun-
dance. Nowhere else are their hues so bright and delicate. You
would say that the flowers have caught something from the char-
acter of those two shepherdesses.

History will long seek in vain for a«t instance of devoted affec-
tion equal to theirs.

The grasshopper and the cricket have taken up their abode in
the high grass, which grows about the grave of Bleuette and Co-
quelicot Day and night they chant around it their mournful
ditties.

A nightingale likewise comes before sunrise, and, concealed in
the branches of a willow near, sings her farewell to the two shep-
herdesses.

The butterflies and the bees are lonely, as they flit round
among the neighboring flowers. The reckless gad-fly and the
humming-fly dare not disturb, with their noisy wings, the stillness
of this mausoleum.

38 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Often, as the schoolmaster passes through the cemetery, he
stops to cull flowers from the tomb of the two victims. " My dear
children," he says to his pupils, while he shows them the bluebot-
tle and the cornpoppy, — "this one signifies delicacy, and the
other, consolation." These are two qualities, that have no very
direct connection with the story which we relate to you. But we
must give up in the presence of the master. He knows better
than we do the language of flowers. And yet the young folks of
the village take a pleasure, when they have a chance, in twitching
his queue, and playing other pranks upon him.

In order to excuse themselves in the eyes of posterity, for hav-
ing caused the death of two shepherdesses so delightful as Bleuette
and Coquelicot, Lucas and Blaise solemnly affirmed, upon their
death-beds, their belief at the time, that the marriage with the
judge and the squire had actually been consummated.

Fifty years after the death of their victims, Lucas and Blaise
died, overwhelmed with remorse.

The following is the inscription on their tomb : —

HERE REPOSE

BLAISE AND LUCAS;

They were

Good fathers, good husbands, good shepherds.

Whosoever thou art,

Stay a moment : drop a tear to their

memories ;
Say a prayer for their souls.

R. I. P .

THE FLOWER OF OUR CHOICE.

They who love flowers, have always one which enjoys the
preference.

This is the flower of remembrance, — the flower of love, — the
flower of youth. It is the flower which we gather in the first
days of life's spring.

We associate the name and the features of the woman we love,
with the thought of that flower, which never fails to remind us
of her.

With some, this flower is the rose, the jessamine, the lilac, the
heliotrope, or the vervain. Others prefer the periwinkle, the
violet, or the pansy. In each case, the remembrance of some
woman is inseparable from that of the flower.

The perfume of one's favorite flower causes a sort of intoxica-
tion, which affects the heart, without disturbing the head.

The sight of it calls you away from the present, and you live
once more in the past It brings before you that narrow path,
where together you used to walk, grazing the bushes laden with

40 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

dew, and that stream in which you often saw her image. You
hear again her -voice — that gentle voice; it seems to address
you.

At another time you say to yourself, this is the flower which
my mother loved ; or, this is the one which my sister wore.

And then you think of your childhood ; of that mother who
still looks down upon you from above, and that sister, who was so
chaste, pure, and beautiful, that God took her to be one of his
angels.

Unhappy the man who has never had his eyes fill with tears at
the sight of a particular flower. Such a one can have been
neither a child nor a youth. He can have had neither mother,
sister, nor affianced bride. He never loved.

This is the flower which we wear at our button-hole — which
we place by our pillow,— or send in bouquets to our best
friends.

The favorite flower brings good luck.

One should have his flower upon earth, as he has his star in
the skies.

Trust none who deride this as superstition.

My chosen flower is the jessamine.

While this is in bloom, a lively, pleasing, thrilling sensation
seems to pervade my soul ; — a sort of enjoyment which departs
when the jessamine begins to fade.

THE FLOWER OF OUR CHOICE. 41

Between me and the jessamine there exists an intimate union.
True, it recalls to my mind things innumerable : — but it is not
my story that I am going to tell you. Indeed, you already know
it — for it is the same as your own.

Flower of our choice ! — sweet, delightful flower — whose name
we gently whisper, as we do that of the woman we love — the
heart which no longer confesses thy mysterious charm, is a heart
forever withered.

It may beat still, but it no longer palpitates ; it may live, but it
has ceased to feel

Long keep for me thy perfume — keep it ever, — and on my
tombstone let these words appear : — " One only love — one only
flower"

HOW

THE POET JACOBUS

SUPPOSED HE HAD FOUND A 8UBJECT FOR AN

EPIC POEM.

THE CHAPTER CONTAINS A SUMMARY OF EVERY THING WHICH THE ANCIENT8
AND MODERNS HAVE WRITTEN ON THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.

L

THE FLOWERS CONVERSE.

The Pansy* was wandering about the earth, not Knowing
where to find a home.

She had knocked at door after door, and found no admittance.
Then she offered herself as lady's companion to a celebrated
blue-stocking, and was refused.

A philosopher of high renown declined receiving the Pansy,
even as a housekeeper.

Repulsed successively by an academician, a minister of state, a
preacher, a painter, a novelist, and a sculptor, poor Pansy deter-
mined to leave the town, and resume her wanderings.

• La Pensee,— Thought.

" And there is pansies, that's for thoughts."

[Ophelia, tn Hamlet.

t

JACOBUS THE POET. 43

It was a fine spring morning when she set out on her journey.
She had not much to carry — but she was firm, resigned, and pre-
pared to endure bravely the inconveniences of her lot.

Plunged in meditation, the Pansy walked on, unconscious of the
length of the way. Evening at length overtook her ; she began
to feel weary, and casting her eyes around, she looked for some
place where she could seek a refuge.

She saw, at a short distance from the road, the front of a cha-
teau brightly lighted up, and towards it she turned her steps. The
owner, seated at his table, which was spread under a tent of silk
upon the terrace, was singing, drinking, eating, and laughing with
his friends.

" Admit me," said a feeble voice, which reached, nevertheless,
the ears of the guests.

u Who are you V9 said the host u If you are a merry com-
panion, and know how to lighten the heavy hours, come in."

The voice replied, " I am the Pansy."

" Servants, shut the gates. Drive away this dull intruder — this
troublesome companion, who causes us to remember. Let us for-
get ! let us forget !"

The master of the chateau filled his cup, and drank to Forget-
fulness.

** I noticed, yonder, a modest cottage," said the Pansy, who, to
rest herself, had leaned for a moment upon a marble vase, that
stood near the entrance of the chateau. " The poor are always

44 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

hospitable: I will seek there a shelter for the night T am fa-
tigued, and begin to feel the cravings of hunger."

She took the path to the cottage.

Knock ! — knock ! — knock !

" Who is there ?"

" A night's lodging, if you please."

" If you can content yourself with a morsel of bread, a glass of
water, and a little fresh straw, come in: — but first tell me who
you are."

" I am the Pansy "

" Accursed one, avaunt ! You come to disturb my slumbers. I
have to-day been watering with my sweat my master's fields.
Now he is indulging in the pleasures of the festive board, while
my wife is weeping, and my children have not bread to eat. If,
to-morrow, I would have strength to resume my toils, it is neces-
sary that I should forget You disquiet both mind and body. Be-
gone ! I shall not open the door."

So, neither the rich nor the poor would have any thing to do
with the Pansy. She sat down on the edge of a ditch, and sup-
ported her head with her hands.

A young man happened to pass that way. As he walked,
he gazed at the stars, and uttered, in a low tone, words
and phrases which made him open his mouth wide and stare
wildly.

JACOBUS THE POET. 45

A stifled sigh from the Pansy apprized him that some sufferer
was in need of his aid. He went up to the traveller, took her by
the hand, and, seeing that she was handsome, though serious and
thoughtful, he asked her, with a slight lisp, why she wept.

The Pansy replied, that she had travelled a long distance, —
that she had in vain sought the hospitality of the cottage and the
castle, — but that no one had been willing to receive her.

" Poor child !" said the young man, making at the £ame time a
sort of tragic gesture.

He put his arm about the waist of the Pansy, and assisted her
to rise. He then directed her attention to a faint Kght, which
shone through a distant clump of trees.

"That is the small house in which I live. Come — you will
there pass the night in safety. By what name shall I introduce
you to my mother !"

- They call me," said she, hesitatingly, « the Pansy."

At that the youth clapped his hands in gladness, and went for-
ward to show Pansy the way to the house.

The Pansy, in her turn, wished to know the name of her host.
" I am a man of fancy," he replied, . " known in the country as
Jacobus the Poet"

He lived in a small house in the midst of the woods, with no
one but his mother, who entertained him with fairy-tales and
witch-stories. These narratives still delighted him* for he was
scarcely eighteen years old. He had rosy cheeks and fair hair,

1

46 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

and his large blue eyes seemed starting from his head. In the
country he was considered handsome.

When the mother of Jacobus learned the name of her guest,
she proceeded herself to set the table for Pansy. It will be
strange, indeed, thought she, if this does not give my son the idea
of some capital great book, that shall bring us money, and give
him access to the prince. But the Pansy objected to having much
done for her. A slight matter served for her refreshment She
soon recovered her vigor, and found herself in a condition to
notice the scene about her.

The room in which they were, resembled a greenhouse, so full
was it of flowers and shrubs. Some of these climbed up the
walls — others hung in arabesque from the ceiling. Buds scarcely
opened, were seen side by side with full-blown flowers. The
petals of others, already faded, were gradually dropping off", but
did not, for this, seem less beautiful. Books, open or shut, marked
in some places by green leaves, to keep the favorite passages, were
scattered here and there among the vases. The shelves in the
library of Jacobus were either the branches of shrubs, or tufts of
flowers.

With his eye fixed on the Pansy, the poet forgot to eat. Never
had he seen a woman so handsome, or beauty so attractive. He
was especially pleased with her calm, deep eye, which had only, it
seemed, to rest upon any object, in order to give it forthwith a
delightful charm, and a sort of genial glow.

The Pansy felt it her duty to thank her entertainer, but at the
first word of acknowledgment, Jacobus checked her.

"The house which thou enterest is blessed," said he, taking

JACOBUS THE POET. 47

care to give each phrase its proper stop, and its due measure ; " thy
presence alone confers on man every good. Thou impartest vigor
to the soul of the young ; thou canst make young the heart of the
old. In thy company the hours flow on, without our feeling wea-
riness or satiety. Without thee, the days seem tedious, and Time,
having wings no longer, crushes us under his feet. Stay in m
house ; whatever it contains is thine. Remain with me, fair trav-
eller. Where canst thou do better t"

Jacobus did not add, that his mother's notion was also sprouting
in his brain, and that he hoped to derive profit as well as fame
from the sojourn of the Pansy.

She smiled at the simplicity of the youthful poet, but this did
not prevent her from fully appreciating the kind reception he had
given her. She determined to show herself grateful.

All that night, Jacobus was unable to close his eyes. The
thought of having received the Pansy under his roof, threw liiin
into a kind of fever. His heart beat quick — his temples were hot
— and an unnatural lustre shone in his eyes. Finding that he
wooed sleep in vain, he rose and went down to his library, think-
ing that the sight of his flowers would calm his spirit

He entered and went up to a Hawthorn. As he bent over to
inhale its perfume, he thought he heard a gentle voice, which pro-
ceeded from the depths of the white corolla.

"Draw in my breath, friend. A single one of my branches,
hidden in the midst of the hedge, is sufficient to scent the whole
neighborhood. I am the flower of early spring, — I am Hope."

" Jacobus ! Jacobus !" said a clear voice.

48 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

\ The young man turned, and saw a Bindweed, which was look-
ing at him with its little blue eyes, and which said, — " I yield my-
self to every passing breeze ; I run this way and that, as may
happen — hanging from the branches of the oak — winding among
the heather — living sometimes with the great, and sometimes
with the little. Do not forget me. I am Caprice."

" I represent the ties of love," exclaimed a Honeysuckle.

A Clematis then attempted to speak, but was interrupted by a
Maple.

" I am the Maple, with brilliant flowers and strong limbs. I am
the symbol of Reserve. Listen to my advice, Jacobus. Trust not
the Clematis, which climbs slyly up the walls, and shows her little
head at the edge of the window, where young maidens go at
evening to talk. The artful Clematis gets possession of their se-
crets, and then goes and makes sport of them, with her comrades,
the giddy Almond and the perfidious Ebony."

The Clematis was about to reply, but the Fern prevented her,
and took sides with the Maple. The sincerity of the Fern is so
notorious, that the Clematis did not venture to engage with such
an adversary. She held her peace.

Jacobus could not get over his surprise. The flowers were
alive; they talked to him; he could not hear too much from
them.

"Think of me," said the Lilac. "I bear green leaves, and
bunches of fragrant flowers. My countenance has an air of sim-
plicity, and at the same time of coquettishness. I bloom early,
and fade soon. I am the first love /"

r

JACOBUS THE POET. 49

" While the snow yet glistens on the gnarled branches of the
oak, and on the turf of the meadows, a fringe of flowers appears
on the border of its white mantle. Is it spring already ? or is it
winter still ! It is the time when the Primrose shows its saffron-
tinted tufts. Come, gather the flower of early youth?

u With the first notes of the nightingale, I shed upon the air the
perfume of my ivory flowers. I am the Lily of the Valley.
Brother to the Lily, I love, like her, the banks of the stream, the
deep shade of woods, the solitudes of the valley. When men see
me, they think of springs that have passed away, and of former
happiness, — and I comfort them by the assurance that this happi-
ness will return."

" Bees come and buzz in my blossoms, and young couples love
to walk beneath my fragrant shade. From my dried leaves men
obtain a wholesome drink. My qualities are mildness, goodness,
and utility. I am the Linden — the flower of conjugal affection."

" Everywhere my white stars are seen to sparkle in the midst
of my branches. I allow my supple and flexible limbs to be
trained as men please. They stretch me on palisades, — they
twine me around arbors, — they spread me out like a curtain along
the terrace of the castle, or make me wind round the windows of
the cottage. I comply with every demand — I am happy in every
situation. I am the jessamine — the flower of Amiability — the
friend of the butterflies and the bees."

Every flower, in its turn, spoke some word in the ear of
Jacobus.

" I shall be," he said, " a great fool, forsooth, if I do not commit
to paper what I have just heard. With the aid of all these

50

THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

charming things, I will write a short epic poem of sixteen cantos,
which will secure to me the place of minister, or at least, of first
valet de chambre to the king."

Jacobus did as he proposed. He passed a large part" of the
night in listening to the flowers. As they all spake in a learned
style, — that is, somewhat diffusely, — he adopted the plan of
abridging their discourse. Being quite methodical in his habits,
he reduced to alphabetical order the following notes, which were
to aid him in composing his little poem of sixteen cantos.

QU

Acacia,

Acacia,

Acacia,

Platonic love.

Acacia, rose,

Acacia, rose,

Acacia, rosea,

Elegance.

Acanthus,

Acanthe,

Acanthus,

Arts.

Almond-tree,

Amandier,

Amygdalus,

Thoughtlessness.

Aloes, parrot-bill,

Aloes, bee de perroquet,

Smalltalk.

Aloes, socotrine,

Aloes, socotrin,

Aloe, suocotrina.

Bitterness and pain

Amaranth,

Amaranthe,

Amaranth us,

Immortality.

American Aloe,

Agave,

Agave Americana,

Security.

Angelica,

Angelique,

Angelica,

Inspiration.

Anthericum,

Phalangere,

Phalangium,

Antidote.

Arum,

Gouet, commun,

Arumvulgare,

Ardor.

Arum, fly-catching,

Arum, gobe-mouche,

Arum crinitum,

Snare.

Ash,

Frene 61ev6,

Fraxinus excelsior

Greatness.

Ash-leaved Trumpet- )
flower, )

Jasmin de Virginie,

Bignonia radicans,

Separation.

Aspen,

Peuplier tremble,

Populus tremula,

Groan.

Aster, china,

Marguerite-reine,

Aster chinensis.

Variety.

B.

Balm,

Melissa citronelle,

Melissa officinalis,

Joke.

Balsam of Peru,

Baume du Perou,

Myroxylon,

Cure.

Barberry,

Epine-vinette,

Berberis,

Sourness.

Basil,

Basilic,

Ocimum,

Hatred.

Beech-tree,

H«tre commun,

Fagus sylvatica,

Prosperity.

Bollflower,

Campanule,

Campanula,

Indiscretion.

Bellflower, pyramidal,

Pyramidale bleue,

Campanula pyramidalis,

Constancy.

Bindweed, purple,

Liseron pourpre,

Convolvulus purpureas,

Eminence.

Bindweed, field,

Liseron des champs,

Convolvulus arvensis,

Humility.

• As many of these English names are but little used, the French and Latin synonyms are given in
parallel columns.

JACOBUS THE POET.

51

Black-thorn,

Bladder-senna,

Bluebottle*

Borage,

Box,

Bramble,

Broom, Spanish

Broom, prickly.

Bryony,

Bock-bean,

Buglon,

Burdock,

I Lanrier-ainaiidier,
Epine noire,
Baguenaudier,
Bluet,
Boarrache,
Buis,
RoDce,

Orobanche majeure,
Genet d'Espagne,
Genet epineux,
Tame common,
Menyanthe,
Buglosse,
Bardane,

Pranus padus,

Prunus sylvestris,

Colutea-arborescens,

Centaurea cyanus,

Borago,

Buxus,

Rubra,

Orobanche major,

Genista juncea,

Genista spiniflora,

Tamus communis,

Menyanthes,

Anchnsa,

Arctium Lappa,

Perfidy.

Difficulty.

Frivolous amusement.

Delicacy.

BluntneeB.

Stoicism.

Envy.

Union.

Cleanliness.

Misanthropy.

Support.

Quiet; repose.

Falsehood.

Importunity.

C

Cactus,

Cactier,

Cactus,

Maternal love.

Catch-fly, right-flow-)
ering, I

Silent, fleur de nuit»

Silene nocturna,

Night.

Celsia, great-flowered,

Cekiea Crete,

Celsia cretica,

Immortality.

Chaste-tree,

Gattilier commun,

Vitex,

Coldness.

Cherry-tree,

Cerisier,

Cerasus,

Education.

Chestnut-tree,

Chataignier,

Castanea,

Justice.

Chestnut-tree, hone,

M arronnier d'Inde,

(iEsculns hippocasta-)
t num, )

Luxury.

Christmas aconite,

Hellebore de Noel,

Helleborus,

Wit.

Cinqnefoi),

Quinte-feuille,

Potentilla,

Beloved daughter.

Clove-tree,

Giroflier,

(CaryophyHus aroma-)
I ticus, 5

Dignity.

Columbine,

Ancolie,

Aquilegia,

Folly.

Coltsfoot, sweet scented.

Tussilage odorant,

Tussilago fragrans,

Justice.

Coriander,

Coriandre,

Coriandrum,

Hidden worth.

Gomel-tree,

Cornouuler,

Cornus,

Duration.

Crown-imperial,

Couronne imperiale,

Fritillaria imperially

Power.

Crowfint, marsh,

Renoncule scelerate,

Ranunculus sceleratus,

Ingratitude.

Crowfoot, meadow,

Renoncule, bouton d'or,

Ranunculus acris,

Perfidy.

Currant,

Groseuler,

Ribes rubrum,

Thankfulness.

Cypres,

Cypres.

CuprooBUS,

Mourning.

w.

Daffodil, common,
Dahlia,
Dandelion,
Daisy, doublet
Daisy, single,
Daisy, wild,
Dale-phim,

Narcisse dee pres,
Dahlia,
Pissenlit,

Paquerette double,
Paquerette simple,
Marguerite des pres,
Plaqueminier,

Narcissus sylvestris,
Dahlia,
Leontodon,
Bellis hortensis,
Bellis simplex,
Bellis perennis,
Diospyros,

Deceitful hopes.

Novelty.

Oracle.

Affection.

Innocence.

Dost thou love me?

Resistance.

52

THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Day-lily, yellow,

Belle de jour,

HemerootJba flora.

Coquetry.

Dittany of Crete,

Dietame de Crete,

Origanum dictamnna.

Birth.

Dittany, white.

Fraxinelle,

Dictamnna,

Fire.

Dock,

Patience,

Rumex,

Patience.

Dodder,

Cuscute,

Cuscuta,

Baseness.

Dragon-plant,

Arum serpentaire.

Arum dracanoulna.

Dread.

«.

Elastic momordica,
Enchanter's Night-)
shade, >

Everlasting,

Momordiqne tiastique,

Circee,

Gnaphale,

Momordica elaterium,
Cichoriom intybus,
Gnaphalium,

Critique; hoax.

Frugality.

Perpetual remembrance.

Fennel,

Fern,

Fieldrash,

Fig Marigold,

Fir,
Flax,
Foxglove,
Fumitory,

Fenouil,
Fongere,
Jonc des champs,

Ficoide glaciale,

Sapin,

Lin,

Digitale,

Fumeterre commune,

Anethnm fosniculum,

Filix,

Juncus campestris,

iMesembryanthemum >
chrystallinum, $
Abies,

Linum nsjtatisfrimnm,
Digitalis,
Fumaria,

Strength.
Sincerity
Docility.

Coldness of heart.

Height
Benefactor.
Occupation.
GalL

•.

Geranium, clouded,

Geranium, rose,

Geranium, scarlet,

Gilliflower, Mahon,

Gilliflower, stock,

Goats-rue,

Goosefoot,

Grape-vine,

Grass,

Grass, quaking,

Geranium triste,

Geranium rose,

Geranium ecarlate,

Giroflee de Mahon,

Giroflee des jardins,

Galega,

Anserine ambroisee,

Vigne,

Gazon,

Brise tremblante,

Geranium nubitam,

Geranium roseum,

Geranium coccineum,

Cheiranthus mahoneus,

Cheiranthus incanus,

Galega,

Chenopodium,

Vitis,

Gramen,

Briza media,

Melancholy.

Preference.

Stupidity.

Promptness.

Enduring beauty.

Reason.

Insult

Intoxication.

Utility.

Frivolity.

*•

Hair-moss,

Polytric a urne,

Polytrichum,

Secret

Hawthorn,

Aubepine,

Crataegus oxyacantha.

Hope.

Hazel,

Noisettier,

Corylus,

Reconciliation.

Heath,

Bruyere commune,

Erica vulgaris,

Solitude.

JACOBUS THE POET.

53

Hefenimn, smooth,
Hepatica,
Hogbean,
HoUowroot,

Holly,

Hollyhock,

Honesty,

Honeysuckle,

Hop,

Hornbeam,

Hortensia,

Hyacinth, expanded,

Hyacinth, garden,

Hyacinth, wild.

Hybrid erinorn,

Heienie d'automne,

Anemone hepatique,

Jusquiame,

Adoxa,

Hoax,

Rose tr€miere,

Lunaire,

Chevre-feuille,

HonbloD,

Charme,

Hortensia,

Hyacinthe 6ta)ee,

Hyacinthe d'Orient,

Hyacinthe sauvage,

Crinole hybride.

Heleninm antnmnale,

Anemone hepatica,

Hyoscyamus,

Adoxa moschatallina,

Bex,

Aleea rosea,

Lunaria,

Laniceia caprifoliom,

Humulus lupulus,

Carpinus,

Hortensia opuloides,

Hyacinthus elatus,

Hyacinthus orientalis,

Hyacinthus sylvestris,

Crinum,

Tears.

Trust.

Defect.

Weakness.

Forecast.

Fruitfulness.

Forgetf illness.

Bonds of love.

Injustice.

Ornament

Carelessness.

Benevolence.

The language of flowers

Play.

Delicate weakness.

Immortal flower,

Immortelle,

Xeranthemum annuum,

Unfading remembrance

Indian cane.

Balisier,

Arundo bambos,

Rendezvous.

Ipomea, scarlet.

Ipomee ecarlate.

Ipomcea coccinea.

Embrace.

Ws,

Iris,

Iris,

Message.

Iris, flaming.

Iris flambe.

Irisflammea,

Flame.

ITy.

Lierre,

Hedera helix,

Friendship.

%.

ucaPlum,
Japan rose,
Jessamine, common)
white, \

Jessamine,
JonqoiOe,
Juniper,

Myrobalan,
Camellia,

Jasmin commun,

Jasmin d'Espagne,

Jonquille,

Genevrier,

Spondias myrobalanus,
Camellia japonica,

Jasminns officinale,

Jasminum grandiflorum.
Narcissus jonquilla,
Juniperus,

Privation.
Gratitude.

Amiability.

Sensuality.

Desire.

Succor.

K.

KingVspear,

I Asphodetojaniie,

I Asphodelus,

I Regret

t.

Laburnum,

Cytise faux ^bonier,

Cytisus laburnum,

Blackness.

Ladies' Bedstraw,

Grateron,

Galium,

Rudeness.

Ladies' Ear-drop,

Fuchsia,

Fuchsia,

Frailty.

Larch,

Meleie,

Pmuslarix,

Audacity.

54

THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Larkspur,

Lavender,

Laurel,

Laurestine,

Lichen,

Lilac,

Lilac, white,

Lily,

Lily, daffodil,

Lily of the Valley,

Lime-tree,

Lucerne,

Pied d'alouette,

Lavande aspic,

Lauher franc,

Lanrier-tin,

Hepatique,

Lilas commun,

Lilasblanc,

Lis,

Amaryllis jaune,

Muguet de Mai,

TUleul,

Luzerne,

Delphinium,
Lavandula spica
Lauras,

Viburnum tinus,
Lichen hepatica.
Lilac vulgaris.
Lilac alba,
Lilium,

Amaryllis lntea,
Convallaria maialis,
Tilia,
Medicago,

Levity.

Distrust

Glory.

Delicate attentions.

Confidence.

Earliest love.

Youth.

Majesty.

Pride.

Return of happiness.

Conjugal affection.

Life.

JH.

Madder,

Garance,

Rubia,

Calumny.

Madder, yellow,

Alysse sazatile,

Alyssum sazatile,

Tranquillity.

Maidenhair,

Capillaire,

Adiantum,

Discretion.

Manchineel,

Mancenillier,

(Hippomanes manci-)
( nella, )

Betrayal

Mandrake,

Mandragore,

Atropa mandragara,

Scarcity.

Maple,

Erable champetre,

Acer,

Reserve.

Marigold, cape,

Souci pluvial,

Calendula pluvialis,

Presage.

Marigold, garden,

Souci commun,

Calendula officinalis,

Trouble.

Marshm allow,

Guimauve,

Althaea,

Beneficence.

Marvel of Peru,

Belle de nuit,

Mirabilis,

Timidity.

Meadow-saffron,

Colchique,

Colchicum,

Autumn.

Meadow-sweet,

Spirce ulmaire,

Spiraea ulm aria,

Uselessness.

Mezereon,

Laureole bois gentil,

Daphne mezereum,

Desire to please

Milfoil,

Achillee,

Achillea,

War.

Milkwort,

Polygala,

Polygala,

Hermitage.

Mistletoe,

Gui,

Viscum album,

Parasite.

Motherwort,

Clandestine,

Lathrea clandestina,

Concealed love

Mugwort,

Armoise,

Artemisia,

Happiness.

Mulberry, black,

Murier notr.

Morns niger,

Devotedness.

Mulberry, white,

Murier blanc,

Moras albus,

Prudence.

Myrtle,

Myrte,

Myrtus,

Love.

V.

Narcissus, white,

Narcisse des pontes,

Narcissus posticus,

SeMshnesi

Nettle,

Ortie,

Urtica,

Cruelty.

Nightshade,

Morelle,

Solanum,

Truth.

Nosegay,

Bouquet,

riorum fasciculus,

Gallantry.

JACOBUS THE POET.

55

©.

Oak,

>

Chene,

Quercus,

Hospitality.

Olive,

Olivier,

Oliva,

Peace.

Ophrys,fly,

Ophrise-mouche,

Ophrys myoides,

Mistake.

Ophrys, spider,

Ophrise-arraignee,

OphryB arachnites.

Dexterity.

Orange-blossom.

Fleur d'oranger,

Flos auraiitii,

Chastity.

Orange-tree,

Granger,

Aurantium,

Generosity.

Qamunria,

Osmonde,

Osmunda,

Revery.

I>.

Pansy,

Paisley,

Pasque-flower,

Passion-flower,

Peony, common,

Peppermint,

Periwinkle,

Persian Candy-tuft,

Pheasant's-eye,

Pimpernel, red,

Pine,

Pineapple,

Pink, dove,

Pink, musk,

Pink, yellowish,

Plane-tree,

Polemonium,

Pomegranate,

Poplar, black,

Poplar, white,

Poppy, corn,

Poppy, white,

Prickly-pear,

Primrose,

Privet,

Prune-tree,

Prune, wild,

Pensee,

Perail,

Coquelourde,

Grenadille bleue,

Pivoine officinale,

Menthe poivree,

Pervenche,

Ibende de Perse,

Adonide,

Mouron rouge,

Pin,

Ananas,

OSilletdesfleuristes,

CEillet mignardise,

CEillet jaune,

Platane,

Pollmoine bleue,

Grenadier,

Peupliernoir,

Peuplier blanc,

Pavot coquelicot,

Pavot blanc,

Raquette-figuier d'Inde,

Primevere,

Troene,

Prunier,

Pruniersauvage,

Viola tricolor,

Apium,

Anemone Pulsatilla,

Passiflora cerulea,

Paaonia officinalis,

Mentha piperita,

Vinca,

Iberis semperflorens,

Adonis,

Anagallis phcenicea,

Pinus,

Bromelia ananas,

Dianthus caryophyllus,

Dianthus moschatus,

Dianthus luteus,

Platan us,

Polemonium ceruieum,

Punica granatum,

Populus niger,

Populus alba,

Papaver rhsaas,

Papaver albus.

Cactus opuntia,

Primula,

Ligustrum,

Prunus,

Prunus sylvestris.

Thought

Feast.

Without pretension.

Belief.

Shame.

Warmth of feeling.

Sweet remembrance.

Indifference.

Painful remembrance.

Appointment.

Boldness.

Perfection.

True love.

Childishness

Unreasonableness.

Genius.

Rupture.

Foppery.

Courage.

Time.

Ephemeral charms.

Dormant affection.

I burn.

Early youth.

Prohibition.

Promise.

Independence.

».

Reed,

Roseau,

Arnndo,

Imprudence ; music.

Rest-barrow,

Bugrane arrete-bceuf,

Ononis,

Obstacle.

Rose,

Rose,

Rosa,

Beauty.

Rosebay,

Laurier-rose,

Nerium oleander,

Distrust

56

THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Rosebay Willow-herb,

Rosebud,

Rose capucine,

Rose, hundred-leaved,

Rosemary,

Rose, moss,

Rose, musk,

Rose, perpetual,

Rose, Provence,

Rose, single,

Rose, striped,

Rose, white,

Rose, wild,

Rose, yellow,

Round-leaved Sundew,

Rue,

Epilobe a epi,

Bouton de rose,

Rose capucine,

Rose cent-feuille,

Romarin,

Rose mosseuse,

Rose musquee,

Rose des quatre saisons,

Rose pompon,

Rose simple,

Rose panachee,

Rose blanche,

Eglantine,

Rosejaune,

RosBolisa feuilles rondes,

Rue sauvage.

Epilobium spicatum,
Ross calyx,

Rosa centifolia,
Rosmarinus,
Rosamusoosa,
Rosa moschata,
Rosa perpetua,
Rosa provincialis,
Rosa berberifolia,
Rosa variegata,
Rosa alba,
Rosa canina,
Rosalutea,
Drosera rotundifolia,
Ruta graveolens,

Prod action.
Young girl.
Splendor.
Graces.
Healing balm.
Voluptuous love.
Capricious beauty.
Unfading beauty.
Oentilleue,
Simplicity.
Warmth of heart.
Silence.
Poetry.
Infidelity.
Surprise.
Manners.

0.

Saffron,

Safran,

Crocus,

Abuse.

Sage,

Sauge,

Salvia,

Esteem.

Sea-lavender,

Statice maritim,

Statice limonium.

Sympathy.

Sensitive plant,

Sensitive,

Mimosa sensitiva,

Bashfulness.

Sensitive hedysarum.

Sainfoin osculant,

Hedysarum gyrans,

Agitation.

Silver-weed,

Argentine,

Potentilla anserina,

Simplicity.

Snowball,

Boule de neige,

Viburnum opulus,

Ennui.

Snowdrop,

Galanth perce-neige,

Galanthus nivalis,

Consolation.

Southernwood,

CitroneUe,

Artemisia abrotanum,

Pain.

Speedwell,

V6ronique elegante,

Veronica amoena,

Fidelity.

Spindle-tree,

Fusain,

Evonymus vulgaris,

Likeness.

Star of Bethlehem,

Ornithogale,

Ornithogalum,

Idleness.

Star of Bethlehem, py->
ramidal, )

Ornithogale pyramidale

(Qrnithogalum pyra-)
( midale, }

Purity.

Starwort,

Astere,

Aster,

Afterthought

Strawberry,

Fraise,

Fragaria,

Goodness.

Strawberry of the Indies,

Praise de l'Inde,

Fragaria indica,

Deceitful appearances,

Succory,

Chicoree amere,

Cichorium intybus,

Frugality.

Sunflower,

Soleil,

Helianthus,

False riches.

Sweet Sultan, yellow,

Centaurle-amberboi,

Centaurea moschata,

Felicity.

Sweet William,

(Eillet de po6te,

Dianthus barbatus,

Scorn.

Syringa,

Syringa,

Philadelphus.

Fraternal regard.

«.

Tares,

Ivraie,

Vicia,

Vice.

Teasel,

Cardere,

Dipsacus fuUonum,

Benefit

Thistle,

Chardon,

Carduus,

Harshness.

Thornapple,

Datura,

Datura stramonium,

Deceitful charms.

JACOBUS THE POET.

57

Thoniapple, parple.

Thyme,

Tiger-flower,

Toad-flax.

Touch-me-not,

Tree Plumose,

Tuberose,

Tolip,

Tulip, virgin,

Turosol,

8tnunoine fastuense,

Thym,

TSgridie,

Muflier,

Balsamine,

Onagre,

Tubereuse,

Tulipe,

Tolipe vierge,

Heliotrope,

Datura fastuosa,

Thymus,

Tlgridia,

Antirrhinum,

Impatiens,

Oenothera,

Polyanthes,

Tulipia,

Hehotropium,

Suspicion.

Activity.

Cruelty.

Presumption.

Impatience.

Inconstancy.

Voluptuousnc

Declaration of lore.

Literary debut

The intoxication of love.

D.

Valerian, red,
Violet Ivy,

Venue's Lookmg-glass,
Vervain,

Viburnum, prickly,
Violet, sweet,
Violet, white,
Virginian Cowslip,
Virginian Spiderwort,
VirginVbower,

Valeriane rouge,
Cobee grimpante,
Miroir de Venus,
Verveine,
Camara piquant,
Violette odorante,
Vkriette blanche,
Gyroeelle,

Ephemerine deVirginie,
Clematite,

Valerian rubra,
Coboea Bcandens,
Campanula speculum,
Verbena,

Lantana aculeata,
Viola odorata,
Viola alba,
Dodocatheon meadia,
Tradescantia Virginica,
Clematis,

Facility.

Knots.

Flattery.

Sorcery.

Severity.

Modesty.

Candor.

Divinity.

Transient felicity.

Artifice.

to, % SL

Wall-flower,
Water-lily, peNated,
Water-lily, white,
Water-lily, yellow,
Weeping-willow,
Wheat,
Whortleberry,
Wild

Willow-herb, purple,

Windflower,

Woad,

Wood Anemone,

Wood-sorrel,

Wormwood,

Wreath of Roses,

Yew,

Zephyranth,

Arum commtm,

Girofleejaune,

Nlhtmbo,

Nenuphar blanc,

Nympheajaune,

Sanle pleureur.

Me,

Airelle myrtille,

Eglantier,

Alisier,

Sab'caire,

Anemone,

Reseda,

Anemone dee pres,

Qxalide-alleluia,

Absinthe,

Couronne de roses,

If,

Zephyranthe,

Arum commune,
Cheiranthus cheiri,
Nymphffia nelumbo,
Nymphsia alba,
Nymphroa lutea,
Salix babylonica,
Triticum,
Vaccinium,

Crataegus tonninalis,

Lythrum salicaria,

Anemone,

Reseda,

Anemone nemorosa,

Oxalis acetoceDa,

Absinthium,

Corona rosarum,

Taxus,

Zephyranthes,

Ardor.

Faithful in misfortune.

Wisdom.

Eloquence.

Growing indifference.

Sadness.

Riches.

Treachery.

A poetical person.

Harmony.

Pretension.

Abandonment.

Modest merit.

Sickness.

Joy.

Absence.

Reward of virtue.

Sadness.

Fond

58 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Jacobus passed the rest of the night in his arm-chair. He
dreamed of being crowned in the capitol ; that he was arrayed, as
he marched, in flowing robes, and held in his hand a lyre of gold.

The first person he saw, on awaking, was the Pansy, who
greeted him with a smile. He told her what had happened to
him, — and wished to know whether he had been imposed upon
by a dream, or whether flowers could really talk.

"It is I," said the Pansy, "who speak in them. Henceforth
you will surpass every rival. The secrets which I have commu-
nicated, and which you were the first to know, will be a fruitful
source of poetic inspiration."

Jacobus kissed Pansy's hand, and asked leave to read the notes
which he had written during the night

But he had hardly finished the reading, when, crushing the
manuscript in his hand, he threw it at Pansy's head.

" Wretched creature !" said he, " is it thus that you requite my
hospitality T What would you have me do with this miserable
stuff ? It is, indeed, a flower-language which you have communi-
cated to me ; but it was invented more than a thousand years ago,
in Persia, by an academician of Bagdad. Little children would
laugh in my face, if I should repeat to them such nonsense.
Know that we have altered this entirely. The flowers have now
a different signification: and, to begin with yourself, let me tell
you, that you are nothing but an old intrigante. Your name
comes from paonsee* solely on account of the resemblance which
exists between your shape and colors, and those of the peacock.

* Paonsee, — Untranslatable : derived from paon, a peacock.

JACOBUS THE POET. 59

The literati discovered your true origin a long time ago. They
are now employed in deciding to what flower belongs the right
of representing that phenomenon of mind which we call tJumght.
For the personification of that other intellectual faculty, which is
called memory, we have the myosotis — a flower which all per-
sons of intelligence call vergiss-mein-nicht"*

The mother of Jacobus, attracted by the loud talking, and dis-
covering what was the matter, prudently set aside the eggs, coffee,
and cream, which she had prepared for the traveller's breakfast.
" My honey," cried she, " you are trying to humbug us with your
flower-language. You must take us for Picards or Percherons,
when you come here with such stories. I perceive that you are
merely an intriguer, whom we must drive away. But first, to
show you that you cannot impose upon us so easily as you
imagined, I shall tell you a short story. You are now, my son, to
learn how it happened, that your father had the end of his nose
frostbitten."

After having coughed and spit, the mother of Jacobus com-
menced the following narrative : —

• Forget-me-not.

60 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

II.

WHERE WE SHOW THAT THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS MAY CAUSE A MAN

TO LOSE THE TIP OF HIS NOSE.

"I loved Jacobus, and Jacobus loved me. We were both
young, handsome, sensible — and we had made a mutual engage-
ment to live for each other. But unfortunately, the will of our
relatives kept us apart To correspond was our only conso-
lation.'

»

Madame Jacobus here heaved a sigh — and then resumed her
narrative.

"'Dearest/ said Jacobus one day to me, 'we are beset with
snares. How do we know that they will not, at some time, dis-
cover the hollow in the beech-tree, where we deposite our love-
letters? That no unsafe person may get at our secret, I have
brought you this little book, which will make you acquainted with
a new language, unknown to the vulgar. Learn to read it, and
above all, to write it accurately/

" I took the book. Its title was — ' The Language of Flowers :
in a course of twelve lessons.'

" With what earnestness did I devote myself to this study ! To
confess the truth, the language of flowers does not, at first, seem
very difficult. The verb has but three persons — the first, the
second, and the third, — I, thou, he.

"It is thus conjugated: —

JACOBUS THE POET. 61

UI love. We present the flower horizontally, with the right
hand.

" Thou lovest. The same flower in the same hand, but inclined
a little to the left

uHe laves. The same flower is offered with the left hand.

"Two flowers denote the plural. A flower inverted means
denial. Thus a yellow asphodel, with its head downwards and its
stem up, signifies — i I do not regret you.'

"There are three tenses, — the present, the past, and the
future.

" We express the present, by handing the flower on a level with
the heart ; we denote the past, when we present it with the hand
inclined downwards, — and the future, with the hand raised as
high as the eyes.

" If a substantive be used in place of the verb, we conjugate the
flower with an auxiliary. Thus, the jessamine is the symbol of
amiability. Presented upright, and in the right hand, it means —
' I think you amiable.' Presented to the left, in the same hand, it
means — 'You think me amiable.' How fully, Jacobus, was your
father a jessamine to me !

" Love had very soon engraved these principles upon my mem-
ory. In summer, a nosegay in my bosom revealed to him every
thought In the winter, when we have flowers no longer, their
names, written on paper, made known to us the state of our
affairs. About this time, Jacobus was preparing to set out for
Paris, that he might see an uncle on whom our union depend-

62 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

ed. I still remember the note which he wrote to me at that
time : —

"'Wormwood can do nothing against the real acacia. You
know that I have a dragon of whortleberry. Away with the hol-
low-root! Lion anemone, thy acacia is in the American aloe.
Banish the king's spear, and think of the mugwort of oar next
interview.

" ' The myrtle as high as the heart, and the myrtle as high as
the eyes, forever.

" ' Jacobus/

" It was unnecessary for me to look into the dictionary, in order
to translate this billet at once.

u ' Absence has no power over genuine love. You know that I
hate treachery. But away with all weakness ! Rest assured that
your love is in safe keeping. Banish all regret, and think of our
happiness when we shall again see one another.

" ' I love you, and shall love you always.

Ui Jacobus.'

" This letter fell into the hands of my guardian. But it was all
Greek to him.

" I blessed the language of flowers, and I continued to study it
with still greater ardor, when it came near depriving me of a hus-
band, and you, Jacobus, of a father."

JACOBUS THE POET.

63

Here Jacobus thought it his duty to wipe off a tear.

u Some flowers open their petals at a particular hour of the day,
and close them at some other hour which is known. Linnaeus
made a list of these. It is by this list that we reckon the hours in
flower-language.

FLORA'S CLOCK.

** Midnight — The large-flowered Cactus.
One o'clock — Alpine Sow-thistle.

Noon — Ice-plant.

One o'clock — Profuse-flowering Pink.

Two "

Yellow Goats-beard.

Two "

Mouse-ear Hawkweed.

Three "

Scammony Convolvulus.

Three "

Dandelion.

Four "

Smooth Crepis.

Four "

Mad wort.

FlTE "

Day Lily.

Five "

Marvel of Peru.

Six "

Hawkweed.

Six "

Geranium.

Seven "

Small-cape Marigold.

Seven "

Naked-stalked Poppy.

ElOHT "

Red Pimpernel.

Eight "

Upright Bindweed.

Nine "

Field Marigold.

Nine "

Flax-leaved Bindweed.

Ten "

Egyptian Fig Marigold.

Ten "

Cypress Vine.

Eleyen"

Star of Bethlehem.

Eleven "

Night-flowering Catch-fly

" I remember that I had considerable difficulty in learning this
list The same course was adopted with the days and months.
Jacobus had told me that, in regard to the days, every one was at
liberty to make his own calendar. I will give you ours. You can
avail yourself of it," added she, directing, at the same time, a
severe look towards the Pansy.

THE FLORAL WEEK.

" Monday — Bladder Senna.
Tuesday — Snowball.
Wednesday — Barberry.

Thursday — Lilac.
Friday — Cypress.
Saturday— Jonqaille.

Sunday — Gilliflower.

64 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

« In regard to the months, the thing is perfectly simple. Na-
ture herself has arranged this part of the calendar, by causing
particular plants to bloom at certain seasons of the year.

THE CALENDAR OF FLORA.

" January — Black Hellebore.
February — Mezereon.
March — Alpine Soldanella.
April — Early dwarf Tulip.
Mat — Common Dropwort.
Juke — Cornpoppy.

July — Centaury.
August — Scabious.
September — European Cyclamen.
October — Chinese St. Johnswort.
November— Serrated Pallasia.
December — Smooth Lopezia.

" Your father had returned from Paris, and my guardian was
keeping me in close confinement I was impatient, however, to
know the issue of his journey. I bribed one of my keepers, and
contrived to send the following letter to Jacobus : —

" ' Full of socotrine aloe and touch-me-not, I must have, cost
what it may, an Indian cane. My guardian assures me that you
have given me over to the wind-flower. But I have hawthorn
that this is a shameful bugloss. Ah ! how much have I endured
since our Virginian jessamine ! Your presence will restore my
buck-bean. No clematis shall again disturb our large broom-tape.
I shall expect you in the ruins of the old castle, at yellow goats-
beard precisely/

" What I meant was this : —

" ' I am fall of grief and impatience. I must have an interview
with you, cost what it may. My guardian assures me that you
have deserted me. I hope that this is an infamous falsehood.

JACOBUS THE POET. 65

How much have I suffered since we were separated ! But your
presence will restore my tranquillity. No artifice shall hereafter
disturb our union. I shall expect you in the ruins of the old
castle, at precisely two o'clock/

" I shall remember this all my life. It was a cypress of black
hellebore, — or on a Friday in the month of January.

"I set out for the old ruined castle, and reached it just be-
fore yellow goats-beard, that is, before two had struck on the
steeple-clock. I waited one hour — two hours — three hours, —
but no one came. I called Jacobus, and echo alone answered my
call. Seeing that night was at hand, I returned to my guardian,
believing myself deserted, and resolved not to survive it I
accused your father of being unfaithful, Jacobus, when, in fact, the
only one guilty was myself, or rather, the language of flowers.

" As I had not by me a poison sufficiently active, I put off my
suicide till the morrow. Fortunate thought! The next day I
was informed, that, at early dawn, the shepherds of the valley had
found a man frozen, in the ruins of the old castle. This man was
your father.

"Instead of writing to him, — 'I shall expect you at mouse-ear
hawkweed,' which means two o'clock in the afternoon, I had ap-
pointed the meeting at 'yellow goats-beajd,' which means two
o'clock in the morning.

"The flower-language had nearly caused the death of your
father and your mother. You see to what the study of the lan-
guages may lead us. You see, too, how it was that your father
bore all his life the mark of a frostbitten nose. And yet this did
not prevent us from being happy, or from having a son."

66 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Jacobus the son threw himself weeping, into his mother's
arms.

" And now, as I have shown you that I know more than she
does," said the good dame, with a threatening look at the Pansy,
" let me get my broom, that I may drive this poor wretch oat of
doors."

Bat the Pansy did not await the old woman's return. She had
already departed in consternation, at having learned that her
origin was merely the Paons6e.

Instead of representing the most exalted of human faculties,
the poor flower was bat the symbol of a vain and worthless
beauty. It was enough to make one even less refined than the
Pansy, disgusted with the world.

Jacobus had an attack of jaundice in consequence of the hoax
which had thus been put upon him. He is yet in pursuit of that
brilliant idea which is to make him cabinet-minister, or first valet
de chambre to the king. France, which has so long been expect-
ing an epic poem, must still rest satisfied with the Henriade.

The reader will find in the course of this work, the elements
of that flower-language which is spoken at the present day by
men of fancy, like Jacpbus.

•■,

I

A TRICK

OF

THE FLOWER FAIRY.

You have doubtless heard it mentioned that Christopher Co-
lumbus, when he landed in Cuba, about the year 1492, found the
natives all on the seashore, with bows in their hands and pipes in
their mouths.

The naturalist of the expedition, being directed to examine the
substance whose perfume these wild men inhaled, discovered the
tobacco plant It did not, however, then bear this name — a name
derived from the town of Tobago, where cigarettes grow, ready
curled, upon their native stalks.

Tobacco ought to have been named in honor of this naturalist
He, however, found his Americus Vespucius in one John Nicot,
who was ambassador from his most Christian majesty Francis II.
near the court of Sebastian, king of Portugal.

Historians place the embassy of John Nicot in the year
1560.

68 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Tobacco, then, must have been discovered about the close of
the fifteenth century — and introduced into France towards the
close of the century following. The middle ages smoked.

It was in the time of Louis XIII. that the nose first enjoyed
the inexpressible delights of snuff-taking. The snuff-box of Ma-
rion Delorme made quite a sensation in his day. I would fain
believe that it is still preserved in the museum of Dusom-
merard.

M. de Larochefoucauld was distinguished for the skill with
which he used to twirl his snuff-box between his fingers, and
then dexterously slip it into his waistcoat pocket These move-
ments have been very happily imitated by several of the best
actors in French comedy.

With these few details, you know enough to pass in the world
for a person of learning. For this purpose we give them to you —
but we do not, ourselves, regard them as at all authentic.

We assign to tobacco a widely different origin : —

That John Nicot, on his return from Portugal, paid his respects
to Catherine de Medicis, with a pound of tobacco; and that from
this circumstance the plant was called the queen's herb : —

That Cardinal Sainte-Croix and the legate Tornabone carried
tobacco into Italy, under the doubly-false name of the herb of
Sainte-Croix and of Tornabone : —

That tobacco was at one time considered a poison ; and that
afterwards it was extolled to the skies, under such names as an-
tarctic panacea — holy plant — the herb for every malady : —

A TRICK OP THE FLOWER FAIRY. 69

That it has been called Bugloss and Peruvian Hyoscy amus : —

That about the year 1690, the consumers of the article who
had read Tournefort's botany, used to go to the tobacco-shops and
ask for twopence worth of Nicotiana : —

All this is very likely.

That in the year 1619, King James L wrote a book against to-
bacco, which he called Misocapnos — which was answered by the
Portuguese Jesuits in another book, called Antimisocapnos : —

That in 1622, Neandri published his Tabacologia; that in 1628,
Raphael Thorius gave to the world his Hymn to Tobacco ; and
that in 1845, Barthelemy came out with his Art of Smoking : —

That Pope Urban VIII. hurled the thunders of excommunica-
tion against all who made use of tobacco : —

That Queen Elizabeth forbade snuff-taking in the churches,
and authorized the beadles to confiscate all refractory snuff-
boxes : — .

. That the Persian shah, Amurath IV. and the grand duke of
Muscovy, interdicted the practices of smoking and snuff-taking,
under penalty of having the nose cut off: —

That at this very time, in spite of Misocapnos, — of the excom-
munication by Adrian VIII. and of the edicts of Amurath, tobacco
brings annually to the treasury of the state, more than one hun-
dred millions of francs : —

All this may be matter of history : but the truth is, that the

70 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Flower Fairy was inconsolable after the departure of her com-
panions.

In her vexation, she determined to play upon them some clever
trick in her own way.

" The flowers," said she, " have become women. As such, they
cannot do without the homage of men. If I can contrive to de-
prive them of that, they will soon be disgusted with the earth."

She was thinking at the time of a genius, young, handsome, and
brilliant — a genius of intrigue, if ever there were one, who had
suddenly relinquished all intercourse with fairies, and who, in the
retirement of his grotto, had given himself up to the pleasures of
smoking.

m

He had the finest collection of pipes that was anywhere to be
found. Sometimes he smoked in one of pearl— at another time,
in one of polished emerald — and again, in a nut of virgin gold.
He had a special talent for imparting to his pipes that warm and
deep tint, that sort of golden burnish, which so greatly enhances
their value. Every thing yielded under his skilful . and regular
puffs. To use a common expression, we might say that this
genius had acquired the skill to culotter the diamond.*

* The magnesite, of which the meerschaum pipe is made, is originally soft and white.
The process called culotter, imparts to it hardness and color. The pipe is carefully
wrapped in soft leather, sometimes, after having been first covered with a thin coat of white
wax. It must then be smoked with great regularity, precision, and constancy. In time
it acquires a mottled aspect of brown and yellow tints, which gives it high value among
genuine smokers. In Germany, wealthy and titled young men sometimes, for this purpose,
intrust their meerschaums to the family of a cobbler, or some such sedentary artist. Here
it passes from the father to the mother— and from the mother to the son — who, succes-
sively puffing away, with astonishing perseverance, and with all the regularity of a met-
ronome, in due time effect the important result. — [Translator.

■»■

A TRICK OP THE FLOWER FAIRY. 71

a What is the condition of woman in the East — in all those
countries where opium is smoked? A plaything, and nothing
more. The men, absorbed in the perpetual delights of intoxica-
tion, never think of their wives ; or if they do, it is but to make
them the subjects of their capricious whims. The Chinese wo-
man has lost the use of her feet; her complexion is hidden
beneath a mass of paint ; her eyebrows are eradicated ; and she
is nothing else than a curious animal — a living screen-figure, with
which her possessor amuses himself in the interval between two
ecstasies. But," said to herself the Flower Fairy, " opium is not
suited to the climate of Europe. We must put tobacco in its
place.

" If we teach man to smoke, he will, like the genius, drive wo-
man away from him. This shall be my revenge." It was thus
that tobacco was invented.

We know not the means which she used to make the vir-
tues of this plant known upon the earth. Perhaps she employed,
as agents, the natives of Cuba, and John Nicot. One thing is
certain : there is not a woman now living who does not deplore
its introduction.

The husband abandons his fireside and his wife, to go and
smoke in his club, or at the tavern.

The conversations of the saloon are deserted, so anxious are
the gentlemen to rejoin their friend, the cigar, waiting for them at
the door of the hotel

If a quarrel take place between the lover and his mistress, the
unfortunate maiden can no longer resort to a long string of re-
proaches and bitter accusations. She may talk as long as she

72 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

pleases ; he will listen with patience and resignation — he has just
lit his cigar.

Observe that young man who walks pensively in yonder grove.
Is it the portrait of his lady-love which he holds in his hand, and
contemplates so affectionately ? It is his cigar-case.

It may be that she embroidered it for him. It is, in fact, the
only souvenir which one now-a-days cares to receive.

Tobacco is man's divinity. If the dream of Utopian politicians
should ever be realized, and the different nations of Europe should
at length resolve themselves into one great family, the coat-of-arms
adopted by this new alliance will doubtless be the following: — a
tobacco-plant spreading its roots over a map of the world, quar-
tered with pipes — bearing cigars on a field of tobacoo-pouches,
with a lighted narguil6.*

For a little while the fairy believed that she had actually suc-
ceeded in her enterprise. Woman was entirely deserted; her
empire had ceased to exist. Some husbands even began to talk
of confining their wives in seraglios — of dislocating their ankles
— of boring their noses with fish-bones — and of painting them
blue.

But the women turned away the storm, and their subjugation
lasted but a little while. They very soon found a way to recon-
quer man : they began to smoke themselves.

The Flower Fairy, if she would accomplish her object, must
pull some other wire.

* Narguite, — a pipe used in Persia.

THE FLOWER OF HOME.

Evert country has its particular flower. In Brittany it is the
Broom ; in Auvergne, the Lavender ; in Normandy, the star-like
Apple-blossom. The valleys of Touraine abound in Lilies ; the
meads of Languedoc are enamelled with the finest Daisies ; while
in Berry the banks of the streams are adorned with fresh Lilies
of the Valley.

Do you know the Cassia? It is the flower of Provence — the
flower of my native country.

Its leaf is scolloped like lace. It grows on a prickly bush,
which blooms in autumn. When the roses have all faded, —
when the flowers of the honeysuckle have disappeared, — and
when the inodorous pomegranate is displaying its bright tufts, the
cassia diffuses far and wide its fragrance.

Its stem is so short that it cannot be made into bouquets. The
young maidens hold it between their rosy lips, on which it glows
like a little ball of gold.

When the exile beholds the flower of his home, he longs to re-

10

74 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

torn ; and while inhaling its perfume, he fancies, for a moment,
that he feels the breezes of his native clime.

I have seen lilies blooming on the banks of foreign streams.
As the wind bent down their tall stems, I almost fancied that they
were inclining their heads to welcome a compatriot and friend.

Poor lilies ! I found them all drooping, with their pale cups
moistened by tears. You would have thought that they were
sighing, as well as I, at the thought of France.

As one weeps when he hears again the clocks of his native
town, or the strains of some melody which he used to sing in his
boyhood, so the sight of the home-flower will often start a
tear.

It looks at you— it recognises you— it speaks to you:— •

" I am thy sister : place me again on the hill — in the valley —
in the midst of the meadows — on the bank of the stream, where
I was born.

" There the breeze is more gentle, the waters are cooler, the
groves have a softer murmur, and the songs of birds are more
melodious.

" Far from my country, I languish here. Take me back ! take
me back !"

Thus speaks the flower of our own land.

Happy those who find it on their way. It is the soothing voice
of memory, which speaks to them from its fragrant corolla.

THE FLOWER OP HOME. 75

The golden broom, the blue-eared lavender, the drooping lily,
white daisies, and lilies of the valley, fresh and sweet-scented,
grow in many places. But there is one flower which is found
only in Provence — that flower is the cassia, the flower of my
home.

THE SULTANA TULIPIA.

VAN CLIPFS DREAM.

The ship of Mynheer Van Clipp, laden with a valuable cargo
of sugar, coffee, indigo, and spices of every description, was sail-
ing at the rate of twelve knots an hour.

Every thing promised a fortunate voyage. The worthy owner,
sitting at the prow, was thinking of the time when he should
again see his little mansion at Haerlem, so neat and bright ; his
neatly raked garden ; and above all, his darling tulips.

Mynheer Van Clipp had shed bitter tears when he found it
necessary to leave these flowers of his affections. The death of
a brother to whom he was sole heir, had called him to Java.
Having settled the estate, he was returning to his country, accom-
panied by his daughter, the incomparable Tulipia. It was the
father's choice, that the most beautiful of girls should bear the

J

1

'■■'■/■■

r

THE SULTANA TULIPIA. 77

name of the most beautiful of flowers. And she fully justified the
designation. For, though her fresh and brilliant complexion, and
her dignified gait, attracted admiration, she was deficient in that
vivacity of disposition, and warmth of soul, and activity of per-
son, which constitute the most pleasing charm of youth. The
tulip is without fragrance.

Van Clipp, as he smoked away, called up in imagination the
pleasures which awaited him in Holland. First, there were im-
provements to be made in his greenhouse ; and his collection of
tulips must be enlarged. For this no sacrifice would seem great.
Then, turning to account his leisure hours, he put the finishing
stroke to his great work on tulips, which was to contain the his-
tory of this flower from the creation of the world down to our
day.

The subject was copious, and Van Clipp had already executed
one portion of the work. He explained the method of imparting
to the tulip all the prismatic hues, from the brightest to the most
delicate tint There was the culture of the spotted — the speckled
— those which are striped like the zebra — and of those which
seem covered with flames, or with embroidery. Then were de-
scribed the tulip of twenty shades — the jasper tulip, the variega-
ted, the paragon — and the tulip covered with small eyes.

Pursuing his narrative, Van Clipp recounted the strong meas-
ures adopted by the states-general to prevent the Dutch, under
penalty of confiscation and exile, from dealing in tulips.

It is true that the passion for tulips had been carried to a fool-
ish extreme. All the money in the country was absorbed in
flower-pots. One tulip — the viceroy — had been sold for thirty-
six sacks of wheat, seventy-two sacks of rice, four fat oxen, twelve

78 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

sheep, eight swine, two hogsheads of wine, four casks of beer, two
tons of salted butter, one hundred pounds of cheese, and a large
silver vase. Ten tulip-bulbs had produced, at public auction,
twenty-four thousand francs. An amateur once offered twelve
acres of land for a single small bulb. A peasant having found on
his master's desk several tulip-bulbs, cut them up for a salad, sup-
posing them to be common onions. This salad was worth a hun-
dred thousand francs.

He described the influence of the tulip over mankind in gen-
eral, and over the Turks in particular — a nation which has had
the good taste to imitate, in their head-dresses, the form of this
flower.

One whole chapter was devoted to the description of the tulip
festival, which every year, at the opening of spring, is celebrated
with great magnificence in the seraglio of the grand seignior.
The work was written entirely in Latin, as becomes a work so
important and dignified.

While her father was thus dreaming of future joys, the fair
Tulipia was asleep in her hammock.

Van Clipp was about lighting his second pipe, when a loud re-
port was heard, and a cannon-ball lodged in one of the port-
holes.

" What does that mean P cried Van Clipp,

"It means," replied the captain, "that we are attacked by a
Barbary pirate."

44 We must defend ours elves-"

THE SULTANA TULIPIA. 79

« With what ! With this spy-glass 1"

A second cannon was fired, and the ball cut in two the top-
mast

The captain ordered the flag to be struck.

In one hour from that time Van Clipp, his daughter the beau-
tiful Tulipia, his sugar, his coffee, his indigo, and his spices, had
all gone on board the corsair. A month later, the worthy Dutch-
man was digging the garden of an old Turk, who set him to rais-
ing cabbages and turnips instead of tulips. His daughter was
kept for the sultan's harem.

II.

THE HAREM.

The sultan Shahabaam, singling out, at a glance of his eagle
eye, the beautiful Tulipia, said immediately, — "She is a Circas-

• n

sian.

The consequence was, that he named her for his fevorite
sultana.

This situation was brilliant, but treacherous, under a prince so
fantastic, capricious, and devoted to pleasure, as was the sultan
Shahabaam.

Accordingly Tulipia's influence, which at first was unbounded,
gradually declined.

80 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Shahabaam first transferred his affections to a bear, and then to
red fishes. In about three months, it was considered settled in
the seraglio, that an actress from the Varietes, lately taken captive,
would soon be promoted to the rank of chief sultana.

Had Tulipia's ambition equalled her beauty, she might long
have preserved her power. But she was indifferent. Her mind
was inactive. She knew not how to sing, to dance, to make puns,
or to solve riddles ; and these were great deficiencies in the eyes
of a master so sagacious as Shahabaam.

The chief sultana's apartments looked out on a splendid garden.
Open blinds gave admission to the cool breezes, which played
among the slats with flashes of bright reflection. As Tulipia,
weeping, reclined upon her ottoman, she uttered, in broken
phrases, the following soliloquy : —

" Why did fate assign to me a master so intellectual as Shaha-
baam 1 I am handsome — but that is all The tulip has nothing
to boast of but her figure. Then I had selected so happily my
former residence. I wished to live, and I had, in fact, become a
Dutch-woman. It would seem that fortune had undertaken to
favor me still more, when she caused me to fall into the hands of
the Barbary corsair. Have I not, indeed, all the requisites of an
odah-lic, whose entire duties are comprised in these two words —
pleasure and beauty ? But how unfortunately has it all turned
out! Does any one of you know this rival, whom Shahabaam
prefers to me !"

Tulipia said this to a group of females reclining at her feet
upon the carpet.

These women, as the intelligent reader has probably discovered

r

THE SULTANA TUUPIA. 81

were so many flowers, which had selected the seraglio for their
abode : some of them, like the tuberose and the monkshood, from
their ardent and voluptuous disposition ; others from their indiffer-
ence, as the hortensia and the snowball.

" You have to do with a powerful competitor, my dear Tulip,"
said the Monkshood. " This actress from the Varietes is no other
than our sister, Rose-pompon,* with whose sprightly graces you
are well acquainted."

"I am ruined," mournfully exclaimed the Tulip. "Were any
other than Shahabaain to decide, I should not hesitate to enter
the lists against Rose-pompon ; but with him it is impossible."

III.

THE SULTAN SHAHABAAM.

The Sultan Shahabaam, who was destined, several years later,
to astonish the Parisians by his brilliant repartees and profound
intellect, had, at the period of our story, but just emerged from
boyhood. A good ruler and skilful politician, his favorite maxim
was : u Do what you please ; let come what will."

Apart from his zeal for securing the happiness of his subjects,
Shahabaam had no greater amusement than to make circles in
the water, by spitting into the sea from the edge of his palace bat-
tlement This taste he inherited from his grandfather, Shaha-
baam I. surnamed the Great

• The Prorence rose.
U

82 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

It at length occurred to him, that some heavier object than a
little saliva, would make, by its descent to the water, a larger cir-
cle, and one, consequently, more agreeable to the eye. While
considering what object he could select for this purpose, his
thoughts gradually settled upon the chief sultana.

" Certainly," said he, " this Tulipia is as stupid as a goose. Yes
and no are all that you can draw from her. A woman without
intelligence is like a flower without odor — as I remarked at the
last session of the council of state. I must have another prime
sultana. Besides, I have suspicions of her being too intimate with
a young Greek. I may be mistaken; but it suits me to believe
that I am not mistaken — and that is enough."

Shahabaam summoned his chief eunuch, and whispered a few
words in his ear.

IV.

A CIRCLE IN THE SEA.

On the same day there was a festival in the seraglio, to cele-
brate the advancement of Rose-pompon to the rank of chief sul-
tana. Dances, ring-sports, archery, macaroon-lotteries, Chinese
shadows, — nothing was spared that could render the fete worthy
of him who gave it, and of her for whom it was given. Before
the sun went down, Shahabaam, followed by his entire court, as-
cended the loftiest turret of his palace. Four slaves were in
waiting, holding in their hands a leathern bag, in which a human
form seemed to be moving. The slaves waved this bundle back

THE SULTANA TULIPIA. 83

and forth for a few minutes, and then, at a signal from their mas-
ter, they hurled it down from the battlements.

Shahabaam leaned over the terrace, and followed with his eye
the descent of the sack. As the waters closed over it, he drew
back and exclaimed : " What a magnificent circle !"

This magnificent circle was the body of the incomparable Tu-
lipia ; and she had produced it by her fall into the sea.

For a few days the tragical end of the unfortunate sultana was
the common topic — and then she ceased to be named. No one
regretted her. Beauty without intelligence leaves few traces on
the memory.

FRAGMENTS

TAKEN AT RANDOM

ikom

THE ALBUM OF THE ROSE

It was a lovely morning in the month of May, when I made
my first appearance upon earth.

The air was filled with fragrance, and with the sweet murmur-
ings of love. The foliage had just expanded ; the lark was sing-
ing in the early sunlight ; and the shepherdess was skipping along
under the hedges.

As I looked around, I perceived a brilliant hornet nestling in
the bosom of a rose which had just opened to the dawning
light

" Poor sister !" said I to myself, u she has not ventured, like me,
to burst her shell, and launch into a new existence. She is forced
to receive the embraces of a vulgar insect This very evening
her soiled and withered leaves will strew the ground around
her."

I ■■PWWTTP-H..»'^<

t

1

*

1

THE ALBUM OF THE ROSE. 85

Rejoicing in the thought th^t I was a woman, I kept on my
way.

"Whither art thou going thus early, young rose-cheeked
madden T" said a peasant youth. " Art thou the goddess of May,
come to visit my domain V

" Halloa ! my pretty rosebud," called out a handsome cavalier,
" why so late on your way t See you not that the sun is up 1 His
beams will scorch your fresh complexion. Mount behind me, and
accompany me home. My steed is fleet; and the path which
leads to my castle is bordered by green trees, and by hawthorn in
flower."

«

I went with the handsome cavalier.

Happy days of my youth ! with what smiling beauty do ye still
return to mj remembrance !

Homage and flattery surrounded me. My slightest wish was
instantly complied with. In every possible way they pronounced
me beautiful. Twenty poets contended for the honor of address-
ing to me their sonnets. I had not a wish ungratified, — and yet
there was something which I desired.

In a word, I was but a rural queen, reigning over the simple
villagers, and a few antiquated scholars, who had retired to the
country. I longed for the bustle of the city, and the homage of
a court

One night I clandestinely left the castle, to follow the governor
of the province, who had been advanced to an important office
under government

86 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

• It is impossible to describe the sensation which was produced
by my arrival in the capital. " Nothing more beautiful," said the
courtiers, " was ever presented to our eyes." The king expressed
a wish to see me, and fell desperately in love with me.

* -

\

********

yu Happy," said I often to myself, " happy hour when I left the
fairy's garden. The rose on its stem enjoys the homage of uni-
versal admiration ; while I, the only living Rose, dispute with it
the sceptre of beauty. Both as flower and as woman, my self-
love enjoyed the gratification of a twofold triumph."

The king lavished upon me the most delicate attentions. He
called me his precious rose; and following the fashion of the
Olympic games, he established, in my honor, under the name of
the Games of the Rose, a contest for determining the origin of that
flower. The victor was to receive a wreath from my hand, and a
kiss from my lips.

The value of the prize set on fire all the imaginations in the
empire. More than six hundred poets entered the lists.

First came forward a poet, who described the perplexity of
earth at that moment when Venus emerged from the foam of the
sea. How could she fitly adorn the brow of so fair a creature I
She solved the problem by giving birth to the rose.

According to the second poet, the rose fell from the bosom of
Aurora, when she was playing with young Tithonus.

THE ALBUM OF THE ROSE. 87

" Neither the earth, nor Aurora," sung a third, " hut a goddess
gave us the rose. Learn," said he, "its origin:" — and he sung
the following strophes, to the accompaniment of his three-stringed
lyre : —

I.

" Of all the young girls in Corinth, Rodante is the fairest. Juno moTes not more majes-
tically, nor does the plumage of the doves of Venus surpass the whiteness of her com-
plexion.

II.
u But to Iove,Rodante is insensible. She is devoted to Diana.

HI.

" Notwithstanding this, the handsomest and wealthiest youths of Corinth cannot re-
nounce the hope of moving her heart. They hang garlands of flowers over her door ; and
they sacrifice to Cupid, that he may make her less obdurate.

IV.

«l

Crito, the son of Cleobulus, and the fiery Ctesiphon, happened one day to meet Ro-
dante, and pursued her to the temple of Diana, where she sought refuge. Here she
appealed to the people for aid. They came ; and beholding one so beautiful, so noble, and
so modest, the crowd exclaimed : ' It is Diana ; it is the chaste goddess herself! Let us
offer our homage, and place her on the pedestal.'

V.

" Rodante besought the goddess to binder such a profanation ; and the goddess, moved
by her tears, transformed her to a rose.

VI.

" Since that time the Corinthians render a special homage to this flower ; and a young
girl, crowned with rotes, has become the symbol of their city."

88 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

He ceased; and a murmur of applause succeeded his song.
Other poets followed.

One described the despair of Venus after the death of Adonis.
She bathed with her tears the body of the beautiful huntsman.
She wished to recall him to life. Unavailing effort ! The decree
of Jove is unchangeable. At least, said the goddess, let not his
blood flow in vain. Let the reddened ground send forth tufts of
roses, to embalm, as it were, the corpse of Adonis.

Another dwelt on the stratagems of Zephyrus enamored of
Flora. The perfardes which were scattered in the path of the
goddess, — the cool breezes that played about her temples, — the
strains of harmony which were chanted among the trees, — all
failed to touch her heart Flora loved nothing but her flowers.
Zephyrus then changed himself to a flower so beautiful, that
Flora drew near to admire it. Allured by its perfume, she hung
over it, intoxicated, overpowered, entranced by the secret charm.
Imprinting a kiss on its corolla, she consummated the union of
Zephyrus and Flora.

This flower was the rose.

Most of the poets sustained these opinions, though with some
slight variations. There were, for example, some who pretended
that the rose was born, contemporaneously with Venus, from the
sea-foam ; and that it retained its whiteness until Bacchus one
day let a drop of his divine liquor fall on the rose, which adorned
the bosom of Venus.

Others maintained that Cupid, at a banquet of the gods, had,
with a blow of his wing, overset a cup filled with nectar, which
the master of Olympus was just conveying to his lips. Several

THE ALBUM OF THE ROSE. 89

drops fell on the white rose-wreath worn by Venus ; and since
that time, roses have had the hue and the fragrance of nectar.

Not one of these explanations satisfied the king. He directed,
notwithstanding, that valuable presents should be given to the
poets ; and appointed a renewal of the contest for the following
year.

During this year paganism and the Roman empire fell. The
reign of courtesans and that of roses seemed to have terminated
forever.

I have already stated that my existence as a woman has con-
stantly depended on my existence as a flower. I have been happy
or unhappy — courted or neglected — just in proportion as man-
kind have been more or less attached to the rose.

In the latter days of Rome, the rose was the only flower they
knew.

Mark Antony, on his deathbed, asked that he might be covered
with roses.

To recover his original shape, the golden ass of Apuleius had
only to eat roses.

The ancients were wont to scatter roses upon the tomb ; and
went yearly to offer rose-cakes— rosales escae — to the shades of
their kindred and friends.

90 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

With roses wreathed around their brows, guests used to pledge
each other in the festal cup.

Artists enlivened the gloomy brow of Hecate with a crown of
roses.

It was usual to place on the table a vase, whose mouth was
concealed by roses. These roses were the graceful emblem of
that discreet silence with which we should guard those free re-
marks, that escape in the gayety of the festive board Wo to
the profane one who uncovered le pot aux roses.

It was the time when Nero shared the throne with Poppsea,
and commanded that divine honors should be paid to her.

I was then called Lesbia ; and I had a country-seat at Poestum,
where poets resorted to recite to me their odes.

Christianity did homage to the rose : but the flower of Venus
now became the mystic rose — the lily's sister — and did penance
for her sins.

Then young maidens in the processions scattered roses before
the cross.

The altars in country churches were dressed with roses.

The same hand which gave its benediction to the city and to
the world, was annually stretched over the roses, on the day
called Rose Sunday.

THE ALBUM OF THE ROSE. 91

The standard which Charlemagne received from the Pope was
studded with roses.

Angels even came from heaven, to offer roses to a saint ; wit-
ness the history of Saint Dorothea.

Rose-garlands hung from St Cecilia's harp.

God changed to roses the accusing bread, which was to have
conducted the Duchess of Bavaria to her end.

During this period, unfortunate women of my class could only
imitate the example of Magdalen. I found refuge in a cave,
where I lived for many years on prayers and roots.

(Twenty-one leaves wanting here.)

********

«

*******

An exile from Constantinople, who has come to pass a hermit's
life not far from my grotto, informs me that there is now in the
east a prophet called Mahomet, who promises his disciples a para-
dise in which houris are always sporting, beneath bowers of roses
which are perpetually renewed.

I depart immediately for the east

A Persian poet dedicated to me a poem on the rose, consisting
of three hundred thousand verses. My health is impaired by the

92 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

fatigue of reading this work, and I must make a change of
climate.

We are now in the heart of the middle ages.

I arrive in France.

It must be confessed that Paris is a very dismal place. Mur-
ders are common at every street-corner ; and great numbers die
of the plague. One has little time here to think of women or of
flowers.

At length Malherbe appears, and is the first in France to give
the rose a wide popularity, — thanks to the stanzas which he ad-
dressed to the unfortunate Duperier : —

" Of this world was she, where the fairest are doom'd,
And tie loveliest are first to die ;
Herself a sweet rose, with the roses she bloom'd,
Aad fell exe the mem had pass'd by."

The poet Ronsard has also spoken of the rose, in a little poem
which some persons prefer even to that of Malherbe. Forgive
them, shade of Boileau !

" Haste, darling, where yon shrubbery blows,
And mark the vermeil-tinted rose,
Which spread, this morning, freshly bright,
Its robe of damask to the light.

THE ALBUM OF THE ROSE. 93

Thorn Aids, that lay in beauty there,—
Those hues — not thine more soft and fair,— -
Say— does their lustre linger yet ?
Or, with the son, has that, too, set ?
Alas ! how soon with rains round,
That gorgeous flower has strew'd the ground.
From morn to eye — its shortlived date !
Ephemeral bliss ! Untimely rate !
Can mighty Nature's step-dame heart
To such a child no more impart *
Then, dearest, while thy greener years
Yet bloom, undimmM by cares and tears,
Cull every Joyeis, amihog flower
That clnsters, fragrant, round thy bower ;
Cull them ere evening, cold and gray,
And age, shall steal thy charms away-
Faded, ere all thy beauty fly,
And like these withered roses, die."

I should never stop, were I to cite all the poets, since the days
of Malherbe and Ronsard, who have sung the praises of the
rose.

It was Delille who one day exclaimed :

" To roses due homage by mortals be paid !
Tie roses the arbor of Venus that shade :
Spring's garlands* love's nosegays, of roses are made."

In conclusion, I must cite that delicate and ingenious verse,
which for a short time was called the verse of the age :—

" A woman like a rose is."

I have since learned that the author was M. Dupaty, and that
he was a member of the French Academy.

94 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

As the roses came again into fashion, I found my condition im-
proved. From the time of Francis I. to that of Louis XIV, I —
(several leaves are here defaced.) * * * *

In the year 1754, 1 received often the visits of a certain finan-
cier, who preferred to every thing else the conversation of men
of talent

At this period, most of the literati were visiters at my table,
and in my saloons. They showed their gratitude for my atten-
tions, by sending me copies of their works. One of them dedi-
cated to me a little poem in three cantos, entitled — " The Art of
raising Roses." From the notes I extract the following items,
which are flattering to my vanity as a flower : —

" The god Vishnou, seeking a wife, found her at length in the
calyx of a rose.

" St Francis d' Assises, in order to mortify his flesh, one day
rolled himself over thorns. Immediately afterward, in every spot
where the saint's blood had fallen, sprang up red and white
roses.

"A law was passed during the middle ages, allowing nobles
only to cultivate roses.

" The Chevalier de Guise used to faint away at the sight of a
rose ; and the Lord Chancellor Bacon, if he saw the same flower,
even in a picture, flew into a passion.

" Mary of Medicis was liable to the same infirmity.

" In the twelfth century, the Pope established the order of the

THE ALBUM OP THE ROSE. 95

Golden Rose. At each royal accession, the pope sent this to the
new monarch, in token of his official recognition.

" The grand Mogul was one day sailing, with Nourmahal, his
favorite slave, on a small lake, which the capricious odah-lic had
filled with roses. The oar cleft the leafy wave, and at each mo-
tion left behind a furrow of golden liquid, which floated on the
surface like a brilliant oil. Nourmahal put her hand into the
water, and withdrew it all perfumed. The essence which the
sun had disengaged from the flower, was the ottar of roses, the
production of a woman's fancy."

u In 532, Saint M6dard, bishop of Noyon, established the rosikres.
His sister was crowned at Salency, the birthplace of the institu-
tion— being the first who enjoyed the honor.

" Heavens !" exclaimed I one day to the learned author of this
three-canto poem, " The Art of raising Roses" " can you tell me
why the rose was selected as the reward of virtue t Was not
such honor due rather to the violet, or to the lily V

" Fair iEgle," said the poet, in reply, " it has been found that
virtue herself needs ornament ; and hence they have chosen the
rose, which is the flower of beauty."

[The MS. of the Rose stops with the eighteenth century. But the reader will not be
wholly deprived of the sequel to these interesting memoirs. There is every reason to be-
lieve that the rose emigrated during the Revolution. She returned to France in the time
of the Directory. Barras removed her name from the list of the emigrants. We have
found, among her papers, notes and documents which enable us to resume the narrative, and
to give the varied incidents of her life, from the year VII. of the French Republic to the
present time.] .

96 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

THE LAST DAYS OP THE ROSE

J 797—1846.

On the return of the emigrants, the rose assumed the title of
Madam de Saint Rosanne.

Under this name she passed through the bright days of the Di-
rectory. No one wore more gracefully the open robe of the
huntress Diana. Her hair curled behind was exceedingly be-
coming.

She had a large retinue — kept open table — and received as
visiters, poets, generals, and ministers of state. Bonaparte was
presented to her ; and their contemporaries have assured us, that
the future emperor produced but an indifferent sensation in the
saloon of Madam de Saint Rosanne.

Never had she been happier, even in the time of the Roman
empire -— for which she expresses so much regret in the fragments
that we have already presented to the reader.

Nothing was in request but rosy complexions, rosy cheeks, rosy
lips, rosy nostrils,— provided always, that these complexions,
cheeks, lips, and nostrils, were blended with a little of the
lily.

Poets had but one subject of comparison — the rose; and they
drew on every part — the stem, the bud, the thorns.

Madam de Saint Rosanne constantly carried her head high. A

THE ALBUM OF THE ROSE. 97

delicate carnation (the old style) gave animation to her cheeks.
Her lips were of a carmine tint She moved with the dignity of
a woman who has put on the buskin, not for the stage alone. In
every -way — in alj possible styles — in verse and in prose — she
was told that she resembled the rose.

All this homage she received with a dignified and queenly in-
difference. It gratified her vanity rather than her heart. Madam
de Saint Rosanne was renowned for haughtiness and insensibility.
A poet who had been provoked by her disdain, let off against her
a fierce epigram, which ended thus :

" Like Bengal's fair but scentless rose,
Her heart no touch of feeling knows.".

A malignant public eagerly caught at this allusion. The rivals
of Madam de Saint Rosanne got the epigram by heart, and
hawked it about in all the saloons.

Madam de Saint Rosanne's influence, instead of abating, be-
came constantly greater during the whole period of the empire.
Napoleon cherished some resentment, on account of the cool re-
ception which she had given him in the days of the republic.
But this resentment did not lead to the disgrace of the individual
who had incurred it.

Madam de Saint Rosanne, under the suggestions of a clever
and calculating policy, broke with the Restoration as early as
1822. She appeared frequently in the saloons of the liberals ;
and upon several occasions, publicly invited Beranger to dinner.
The editors of the Constitutionnel were all friends of hers, and
she was among the earliest supporters of that journal.

is

98 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Madam de Saint Rosanne, in a note which we here give, has
recorded the impressions made upon her mind by the first indica-
tions of the romantic reaction : —

" I have this morning read a book of poems, by one of those
authors who are attempting to change the whole face of our liter-
ature, and to take Parnassus by storm. The first piece contains
a description of a young maiden — the Laura or the Beatrice of
the poet ' Her complexion/ says he, * is pale as the surface of
the lake at early dawn. Her eye is blue as the lavender flower.
Her flaxen hair flows each way from her temples, like two streams
of fragrant oil. On her dull and heavy brow destiny has written
the word of Albert Durer's angel — Melancholy! Really, I am
half-choked with laughter. What a style ! What metaphors !
And these are the pigmies who are attempting to dethrone the
giants ! Why go so far for terms of comparison to depict woman,
when we have the rose close at hand ? Ah ! gentlemen of the
romantic school, you will not make much progress, I venture to
predict"

We have found another note, written two or three years later,
which shows that Madam de Saint Rosanne had been compelled
to change her opinion. It is as follows : —

" Beyond all doubt, the Welsh are carrying the day. Bad taste
is in the ascendant A poet, naming the object of his love, has
ventured to write :

* She is yellow as an orange.'

"A queenly port, brilliant hues, health and freshness, are no

THE ALBUM OF THE ROSE. 99

longer fashionable. One must be consumptive and phthisical to
the last degree, to attract notice from the gentlemen of our young
literature. Rose and lily tints are worn now, they say, only by
cooks. The Messieurs Jay and Jouy are coming to see me this
evening. What amusement these poor romantiques will afford us !"

The free and easy tone of these reflections but ill conceals the
inward vexation of Madam de Saint Rosaline. Indeed it is hard
for a coquette to find herself, at last, neglected by everybody ex-
cept three or four academicians, who every evening, as they kiss
her hand, have repeated to her, for this quarter of a century, " the
rose is not more fresh than you are."

Perhaps Madam de Saint Rosanne would not have confessed it
— but she would have given much to become pale — extremely pale.
It is said that at this particular epoch she used to take vinegar,
for the purpose of making herself thin. This story was circula-
ted by that poet who wrote the epigram in the time of the Direc-
tory. The source, however, is too suspicious to be received
without question, in this historical summary.

Her literary position grew worse from year to year. The rose
was unquestionably erased from the vocabulary of literature. It
was no longer the generic flower for designating beauty. Each
poet, each writer of romance had his own. One adopted the
scabious ; another, the columbine : this author took the clematis ;
that, the rhododendron, &c. &c.

A line dated in 1839, shows, by its very conciseness, the vexa-
tion which was disturbing Madam de Saint Rosanne : —

" The only rose in fashion, at present, is a rose-colored finger-
nail

1

300 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Everybody knows that about the year 1839, a very remarkable
modification took place in regard to literary preferences. The
pale, faded, green-looking woman began to lose her admirers.
For a short time, Madam de Saint Rosanne fancied that the moss-
rose beauty of the empire was about to regain her supremacy.
Her mistake was of short duration. The lively, frolicsome,
flighty woman was next invented ; the incomprehensible, reddish-
brown, prismatic, witty, provoking, adorable woman ; the woman
many-tinted and serpent-like.

Madam de Saint Rosanne perceived that her reign on earth
was at an end; and she sent in her submission to the Flower
Fairy.

" At least," said she, " I shall find below the madrigals of my
old suitor, the Zephyr."

*

But though the Flower Fairy has unbounded indulgence for the
repentant, she is inflexibly armed against wounded vanity.

To mortify that passion, the Flower Fairy has condemned the
rose to live and die an old woman. She will never grant her a
pardon, until the hour of her natural death shall arrive.

NOCTURNE.

NIGHT-FLOWERS.

I love you, flowers of night ! I prefer you to all your sisters
that look so brilliant by day.

When the sun has sunk below the horizon, and the shadows,
like long, drooping eyelashes, fall from the branches, then the
flower of night unfolds, and the first beams of the evening star
come and sport in its corolla. fl

The flowers and the stars are sisters. What do they say to
one another?

They talk of the ennui which they feel during the day ; they
interchange rays and perfume; they mingle their soul with the
mighty soul of nature.

Does some hair-brained sylph come to interfere with their dis-
course? The night-flower pays no heed — she is no coquette.

102 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

She loves only those who suffer.

Like the sound of the wind — like the murmuring of waters —
the fragrance of the night-flower is consoling.

She listens to the complaint of the shepherd ; she smiles at the
reveries of the young girl ; she lends an ear to the poet's song.

Her delicate perfume gives a secret charm to your first tender
meeting — spreading over you, as it were, a veil of innocence and
of purity.

No insect alights upon the flower of night. The phalsena hums
around it; it may even touch its calyx — but it dares not stay
there.

Sometimes, however, a fairy will plunge into the recesses of its
petals, to escape from some persecuting goblin.

From her palace, the marvel of Peru, the fair Titania proceeds
every night, to make excursions through her nocturnal empire.

There is an hour when woods rustle — when waters murmur —
when lovers talk — when poets sing — when confused sounds and
soft sighs fill all the plain ; it is then that the night-flower is most
expanded.

Rustlings, murmurs, sighs, and echoes — poets' songs and
amorous breathings — all mingle in the air, and descend upon
nature in the dew.

With her portion of this gentle rain is formed, in the depths of
the night-flower, a bright liquid pearl. This pearl shakes and

NIGHT-FLOWERS. 103

quivers there. The slightest breath of air can break it — and the
morning wind will soon rise.

To preserve this precious pearl, formed during the night, the
nocturnal flower closes its petals by day.

Thus, too, the poet shuts carefully in his heart those treasures
of thought which he has gathered in his solitude.

It is for such reasons that I love the night-blooming flower, and
prefer her to her sisters, which are so brilliant by day.

NARCISSA.

I will repeat to you a story which the fishermen tell in the
evening, as they mend their nets, sitting in a circle on the shore.

/ The fair Narcissa surpassed in beauty all the young girls of her
province. All along the shore from Catana to Syracuse, there
was not one who could boast of so mild an eye, so graceful a
form, so delicate a foot.

Put no confidence in the fair Narcissa.

Some are beautiful without being conscious of it. Such it is
safe to love.

Others are beautiful, and know it but too well. It is these
whom you should avoid.

Narcissa the fair knew that she was handsome; and Louis
loved her.

Louis was the son of the old soldier, Louis Naldi, and was re-
garded by all who knew him, as a brave fellow, a bold sailor, and

«S\-

r

NARCISSA. 105

V

a kind comrade ; one who feared God and venerated the saints.
But he was in love with the fair Narcissa.

He followed her everywhere. He thought of her perpetually.
Had you seen Louis weep, as he pressed to his heart some flower
which had fallen from Narcissa's bosom, you would have some
conception of the power which love can exert over a man.

Yes, Louis would weep like a child.

He, the fearless sailor, whose voice so often rose above the
storm, trembled at the slightest word from Narcissa.

He owned a house built of stone, a substantial bark, and excel-
lent nets. He offered the whole to Narcissa, whose only effects
were a spinning-wheel and a looking-glass; a spinning-wheel
which never turned, and a looking-glass in which she was always
admiring herself.

It must be acknowledged that Narcissa thought of nothing but
pleasure and fine dresses. Still she did not reject Louis.

The love of the handsome and brave Louis flattered Narcissa's
pride ; but she felt noa love for him in return.

What she loved was her own young, handsome face — her
graceful shape — her smiling lips — and her sweet eyes. She
loved herself, and nobody else.

After visiting the city, she would say to Louis on her return, —
"I have seen the daughters of the citizens. They are not so
handsome as I am ; yet they wear velvet tunics, fine ribands on
their heads, and a gold cross at their necks/'

vS

u

106 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

So Louis purchased for her a velvet tunic, handsome ribands,
and a cross of gold to hang from her neck.

" Art thou happy," said he to her, M now that thou art so fine tw

" I am happy," she answered, u because I am beautiful."

" When wilt thou marry me V9

" Wait till vintage has passed. I wish to dance once more in
freedom among my companions."

The vintage, as you well know, is the time of festival and
sports; the time of tender offers. Gayety seems then to flow
freely, with fhe new juice of the grape.

Then came other pretexts. In winter, she must wait for the
time of tunny-fishing ; in summer, for that of harvest. The mar-
riage-day was always put off to a later period.

Meanwhile Louis, in order to buy dresses, and ribands, and
jewels for Narcissa, had sold the house which his father left him,
his bark, and hi? nets. He had nothing left.

He had not even the poor recompense of Narcissa's love. She
passed the day before Ijer mirror, combing her long hair, and
smiling at her own beauty. Scarcely could her lover get a word
or a look.

Louis saw very plainly that the fair Narcissa had no love for
him : but he was bewitched.

Some women are gifted with a fatal beauty.

naAcissa: 107

Their eyes, iistead of healing the wounds which they have
made, seem but to irritate them mote. Does some demon impel
you to love them, and allure you to your fate? What but a
demon could inhabit the heart of Narcissa !

Again Louis said to her, " When wilt thou marry me V

u The man Wlftrtri I marry," said she, " must first give me some
beautiful ear-drops, — some fine linen frocks, — diamond buckles
for my shoes, and handsome rings for my fingers."

Lottis took his carbine — that vetfy carbine which the old soldier,
his father, had carried in the wars — and set out for the mountains.

Soon, the fair Narcissa had the beautiful ear-drops, the fine
linen frocks, the diamond buckles, the handsome rings/ and many
tilings beside.

Always handsome, always adorned, always gay, she frequented
bfetlls aid festivals without thinking of the poor wretch who was
risking his life, and his soiiFs welfare, in: order to gratify the vain
wishes of her heart.

At length, the exploits of the brigand Louis became known at
Palermo, and the viceroy sent a detachment of soldiers to seize
him. Narcissa, the beautiful Narcissa, sat in her window to see
them pass, and smiled upon the young corporal, their commander,
who saluted her with his sabre.

This corporal was going to attack her lover.

Hurrah! hurrah! The soldiers have returned victorious.
Louis fell in the mountains, pierced by three bullets.

108 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Who is it that runs first to meet these cavaliers ? It is the fair
Narcissa, more beautiful, more decorated than ever.

The corporal has shown great bravery. He expects now to be
promoted, and returns with a rich booty.

Narcissa fastens on him her most winning looks — those looks
r which the demon has armed with irresistible power.

But the loyal soldier is not affected by them.

" Who art thou, fair one," said he, " and what is thy wish V9

" I am Narcissa the fair, and I wish to marry thee."

" Begone ! woman without a heart. The last word which the
bandit Louis uttered, was thy name — Narcissa the fair; and it
was I who shot Louis."

From that time neither the young nor the old, neither matron
nor maid, would have any thing to say to Narcissa.

She was compelled to leave the village, and to hide herself in a
grotto of Monte-Negro, near which flows a deep stream, which
long ago the powerful prayers of a holy hermit caused to issue
from the rock.

Instead of weeping over her errors and repenting, she spent the
long day in contemplating her image, as reflected in the watery
mirror.

One day a monk, renowned for piety and benevolence, climbed
the heights of Monte-Negro, with the design of exorcising Nar-

NARCISSA. 109

cissa; for no one, he said, could act like her, unless she were
possessed.

The holy man found the grotto deserted.

A boy, who was tending goats near by, told him that early in /
the day, he saw Narcissa sit for a long time on the bank of the
stream, and then rise and throw herself into the water.

The monk came down and celebrated a mass for the repose of
her soul.

Some may say that she drowned herself to escape from a re- ^
proaching conscience ; but it is well known that the water-spirit
had assumed her countenance, to entice her into the abyss, and to
hand her over to Satan.

So perish every woman who is without a heart

/

Such is the story which the fishertnen tell, as they mend their
nets at evening, sitting in circles on the shore.*

* We give this legend to pass for what it is worth, without pretending to write anew the
history of Narcissus. The Greeks employed a man for the personification of selfishness ; s
while the Sicilian fishermen have taken a woman. Of these two versions, the reader will
choose that which best suits his taste.

That regard for truth which should always sway an author, treating of matters so impor-
tant as the subjects of this work, makes it our duty to state, that the fishermen whose story
is given above, are mistaken in regard to the cause of Narcissa's sudden disappearance.

The flower called Narcissus was incarnated in this young Sicilian girl. Fearing the /
evils which must result to men from the residence among them of a woman so dangerous
in her character, the Flower Fairy compelled the Narcissus to return to her own dominion.

AUBADE.

THE EARLIEST FLOWER.

/

It is morning: rise, young girls, — let us go and gather the first
flower — the May-flower.

Place it in your bosom, and preserve it carefully ; it brings good
fortune all the rest of the year.

I shall give to thee, Madeleine, the one which I pluck, and thou
wilt place it among thy tresses.

The first flower is not the primrose, nor the periwinkle, nor the
hyacinth, nor the violet, nor the lily of the valley.

It is not that which blooms first in the succession of the sea-
sons. It is the flower which first meets your eye — which you
come upon by accident.

Last year it was the violet which announced to me the return
of spring : this year, it was the rose. Who can tell me what
flower will mark for me the spring which is next to come X

What does it matter \

THE EARLIEST FLOWER. Ill

W hatever thou mayest be, first flower, everybody loves thee,
and receives thee with delight Who can see thee, and not feel
his eye grow moist ?

While we look at thee, the youth of our heart seems about to
be renewed with the youth of the year ; our spirit is ready to
bloom with thje corolla of the flower, and our feelings grow green
again with its leaves.

[First flower, which we meet when we go out on May-day
morning, — thou art hope — thpij art illusion. Thou makest us be-
lieve it possible that the past may return.

When, on certain days and at certain hours, we meet with
some object of ancient worship, the mind goes back to antiquity ;
it leaps, in an instant, over the mighty interval, and fancies that it
has reconstructed the chain of time.

For a moment we seem about to enter on a new career. But
soon the soul, exhausted by fatigue, returns to its starting-point,
and remains motionless.

And thus, too, the sight of the first flower revives within us a
host of buried thoughts. They awake — they spread their white
pinions — they fly gayly round. We fancy that they are about to
conduct us far, very far towards the home of our youth.

Alas ! the first spring-flower has but just withered, and our fan-
cies have already slackened their flight ; they fall to the ground,
and their frail wings are shattered.

Blessings on thee, nevertheless, blessings, thou first flower, for
this short, intoxicating hour of thy gift. For a moment to believe

J

112 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

that one is again young — that he loves, and is happy — is not this
to live whole years ?

It is morn: rise, young girls, — let us go and gather the first
flower — the May-flower.

Place it in your bosom — keep it with care. It brings good
fortune for the rest of the year.

Here, Madeleine, is the flower which I have plucked. Inhale
its fragrance, and then place it among thy tresses.

SERIOUS DISPUTE

IN RELATION TO THE VIOLET:

THE FLOWER FAIRY

AND

AN ACADEMY WHICH PREFERS TO REMAIN ANONYMOUS.

L

READING IN THE FOREST.

The Flower Fairy had fixed her residence on earth, partly to
avoid a place which recalled unpleasant remembrances, and partly,
that she might more closely watch the behavior of their ladyships,
the flowers.

Every day brought some new vexation — some fresh cause of
dissatisfaction*

The rose had been the child of her preference — her favorite
daughter, — and the life which she beheld her leading, filled the
soul of the fairy with the deepest grief.

Neither had she much reason to congratulate herself on the

15

114 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

condition of the Lily, the Tulip, of Bleuette and Coquelicot, of
the Pansy, and of many other flowers, whose adventures are given
in the course of this work.

The certainty of her approaching revenge could not prevent
the anguish of her maternal heart.

Among the flowers, some were unhappy, because they had pre-
served faithfully their original characters; and others were so,
because they had endeavored to change them.

It was in this latter way that the violet was hastening to its
ruin. That very day the fairy had seen her in a splendid car-
riage, glistening in silk, and gold, and jewels.

The violet had renounced her life of retirement.

The Flower Fairy, to relieve the sadness which this sight oc-
casioned, left the town by the country-road. She was attired as
the wife of a judge ; and took with her a little chubby-faced do-
mestic, who carried her parasol and her hood.

At the entrance to a small wood she dismissed her servant, and
went under the trees, to enjoy quietly the cool air, and the pleas-
ure of solitary reading.

The book which she held, was a complete history of flowers.

The fairy was much interested in what she read, for she found
there copious themes for ridicule, in the false statements that have
been gravely made respecting flowers and their origin.

She was occupied, at the time, with the history of the violet.

f

SERIOUS DISPUTE. 115

" The Violet," said the author of the book referred to, " is the
daughter of Atlas. This young nymph was chased by Apollo, and
was about to fall into the power of that Don Juan, when the
gods, in compassion, changed her to a violet.

" Such is the method usually employed by the gods to defeat
the gallant projects of Apollo. The fertile imagination of Jupiter
might occasionally, one would think, invent something new."

The fairy dropped her book, and sat up on the grass, that she
might laugh more at her ease. The fact is, that when standing,
she was compelled to hold her sides.

" These authors," said she, " are certainly very ridiculous peo-
ple. Where the deuce did they find out that the Violet is the
daughter of Atlas, and a nymph by profession? In fact, her
father's name was simply Jerome, and she herself, under the name
of Marcella, carried on the trade of seamstress in a country town.

" I cannot, with propriety," added the fairy, " longer allow such
errors to be credited. It is time the facts were made known." So
she returned home to draw up the following memoir, which she
addressed to the Academy : —

II.

A MEMOIR ON THE ORIGIN OF THE VIOLET.

w Gentlemen op the Academy : —

u If there be a single science which deserves the fixed attention
of mankind, and especially of the learned, it is undeniably that
which pertains to the origin of flowers.

316 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"At the present time this science is obscured by the mists of
ignorance. A multitude of false notions have gone abroad. If
precautionary steps be not early taken, the evil will soon be past
remedy.

" It is the duty of a body so respectable, so illustrious, so en-
lightened as that which I now have the honor to address, to make
popular, to spread abroad, and to give their own sanction to the
great truths of history, of politics, of philosophy, and the other
sciences. With confidence, then, do I address the Academy, con-
vinced beforehand, that it will accord to my corrections all that
consideration which they so fully deserve.

- " May I be allowed, before entering on the immediate subject
of my memoir, to submit to this learned body some general re-
flections, which seem to me indispensable, in order to" — * * *

III

INTERRUPTION.

We must take the liberty to suppress these general reflections.
As the method adopted by the fairy might at length produce on
the reader an impression by no means agreeable, we shall substi-
tute for this part of the memoir, which contains a minute history
of the violet, a narrative, simple and animated. We at first
thought of using for this purpose, the language of the gods, com-
monly called poetry. But not having at hand our rhyming dic-
tionary, we must be content with plain prose.

SERIOUS DISPUTE. 117

IV.

MARCELLA.

It was a day of festival. All the young girls of the borough
were issuing from their homes in handsome deshabille.

Some went to walk in the fields : others were attracted by the
sound of the tambourine, which struck up the merry signal of the
dance.

To laugh, to play, to amuse themselves, and to show off their
charms, seemed to be the object of all.

One alone remained, shut up at home. It was Marcclla, the
gardener Jerome's pretty daughter.

" Come along with us, Marcella," cried her companions, as they
passed. " The air is perfumed with the odor of the wild plum,
and the skies are blue. Go with us to the May-dance."

Marcella gently shook her head; or if some young man at-
tempted to throw her a bouquet, she put to the shutters, and
worked faster than before.

How neat and bright every thing looks in Marcella's cottage.
One could almost think that she has imparted her own virgin
graces to every object around her. Mark the bed, with its white-
fringed counterpane, — the walnut cupboard, — the straw-seated
chair, — the spinning-wheel that was her mother's,— the narrow

118 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

looking-glass hung by the wall, — the basin of holy water, — and the
virgin's image, that watches over her while she sleeps.

If Marcella pursued her toil on a festival-day, it was neither
from avarice, nor from caprice. Her needle was busy for the
poor. Accordingly, as that goes and comes quickly, eo is she
nimble and cheerful. To-morrow morning old Jacqueline will
have an excellent, large, warm gown, to protect from the cold
winds her wasted, feeble limbs.

Marcella, as she plies her needle, sings her favorite song : —

" I wish I were a little flower.

"Were I a little flower, I'd choose a spot, retired among the
moss.

" Some spot retired, upon the streamlet's side.

" There would I live, hidden in the grass, and looking at the
sky."

This song had several other couplets, but these were Marcella's
favorites.

Towards evening she went into her garden, which was full of
beautiful trees and flowers, of murmuring waters, and tall, tufted
grass.

This garden was cultivated by her father Jerome, the aged gar-
dener of the castle ; and it was his own and his daughter's sole
amusement : and a pleasure it was to see how harmoniously the
flowers were wedded to the shrubs; what graceful shapes the

SERIOUS DISPUTE. 119

branches assumed ; and how gently the grass bent under the foot-
step.

The Flower Fairy was very fond of father Jerome. She went
often to his garden to see him at his work, as he spaded the mould,
pruned his trees, and trimmed his flowers. It was a pleasure to
her to wipe away, occasionally, with the tip of her wing, the
sweat that stood upon the old man's forehead.

On this very day she had come to see father Jerome's garden.
At the time when his daughter entered the garden, the fairy was
earnestly contemplating the calyx of a Queen Margaret*

She then took a notion to look into the depths of Marcella's
heart Calyx for calyx, the hearts of the maiden and the flower
were equally pure.

Echo at length brought into the midst of that solitude, the
sound of the tambourine — the merry shouts of the young girls,
with all the melodies, perfumes, and aspirations, that belong to the
close of a fine day in spring.

Marcella was sitting on the grass, and thinking only how happy
old Jacqueline would be made on the morrow.

At the sight of so much innocence and candor, the Flower
Fairy was tenderly affected.

" Poor child of humble birth," said she ; " pure as the snow of
the glacier, — good as nature herself, thy sole instructress, — fair
as innocence, — and diffusing the fragrance of chastity and mod-

• Heine-Marguerite, — China aster.

120 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

esty ; — who will save thee from the temptations of the wealthy
and bad 1 Who will keep thee from the snares into which so
many of thy companions have fallen V

Unconscious of the soliloquy of which she had been the theme,
Marcella, as she looked at the sky, chanted her wonted strain :

" I wish I were a little flower*

" Were I a little flower, I'd choose a spot, retired among the
moss.

" Some spot retired, upon the streamlet's side.

" There would I live, hidden in the grass, and looking at the
sky."

The Flower Fairy resolved to gratify this prayer, and stretched
her wand over Marcella.

On the instant, she disappeared under a veil of leaves. In the
place where*1 she had been, was seen a flower whose petals were
covered with pearly dew-drops. You would have thought them
tears in an eye of blue.

It was Marcella, who thus bade her father adieu.

/ The Violet is the daughter of the humble. Devotedness, can-
dor, purity, and modesty are the elements from which the fairy
composed the perfume of the flower.

SERIOUS DISPUTE. 121

V.

THE ANSWER OF THE ACADEMY TO THE FOREGOING MEMOIR.

[extract from thr minutes of debate.]

" On the day of , A. D. , the Academy of

having assembled in its usual place of meeting, listened to the
conclusions of the report presented by the distinguished poet,
Jacobus, in regard to the origin of the Violet.

" These conclusions are as follows : —

"'1. That little confidence can be placed in contributions made
to science by a class of beings, whose very existence is so ques-
tionable as that of the fairies.

" '2. That when, the source is apocryphal, the communications
which proceed from it, must, of necessity, be apocryphal also.

" ' 3. That the concurrent testimony of past ages shows, t^at all
the flowers are essentially mythologic in their origin/

« Consequently,—

" The Academy pronounces its opinion, that, more than ever, it ^
considers the Violet to be the daughter of Atlas.

" It also affirms, on its soul and on its conscience, before God /
and before man, that the daughter of Atlas was by birth a nymph,
and that the gods, to save her from the persecution of Apollo,
changed her to the Violet"

10

J 22 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

VI.

A WORD ASIDE.

It is undeniable that the poet Jacobus is entirely wrong, and
that the explanation of the Flower Fairy is the only good and
true one.

But this is only one proof more of the stupidity of learned so-
cieties in general, and of academies in particular.

VII.

THE VIOLET, A WOMAN..

With us, then, and with all enlightened minds, it is a conceded
fact, that the Flower Fairy is in the right

Those who have followed, with the heed which becomes a mat-
ter so grave and important, the thread of our narrative, have not
forgotten, that mention was made, at the outset, of the appearance
of the violet in a splendid carriage, with all the accompaniments
of dress and luxury.

What can have become of her pristine modesty ? How has a
daughter of the common people become a great lady ?

SERIOUS DISPUTE. 123

Oh, Marcella ! how couldst thou so disappoint us, when reap-
pearing upon the earth in thy former shape ?

Of all the changes which the Flower Fairy has witnessed, thine
is the one which has touched her most sensibly.

But we must not be too hasty in condemning Marcella.

That has happened to her which has happened to so many of
her companions, who are without experience.

She is young — she is handsome — she is a woman. She hears
two voices, which are ever chanting within her.

One of them says: "Stay here in the mead — by the side of
the grass-plot — on the banks of the stream, where heaven gave
you birth. Happiness dwells only in retirement."

The other murmurs in your ear : " Beauty and youth are two
gifts from heaven. Wo to the niggard who would bury them.
The stream preserves no image; the grass-plot retains no per-
fume. Happiness is to be found only in society."

•

For a long time the soul wavers undecided, as it listens to these
voices. At length one of the two becomes imperceptible. The
other still sounds the praises of fame, and splendor, and worldly
pleasure — and gains at last a willing ear.

Then she plunges into the whirl of festivities and spectacles ;
and she is flattered and courted the more, as her real character
presents a lively contrast to the life which she is leading.

For a little while she may imagine herself happy.

124 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Bat soon comes the disenchantment; and with it weariness,
disgust, and contempt.

In the midst of all this outward gayety, she thinks, with regret,
of her former happiness — and of her present life, with the bitter-
ness of remorse.

Have yon never happened to witness, amid the excitement of
the ball-room, a shade of sadness that came, in an instant, over
some young and brilliant face — and lovely eyes, that sought con-
cealment for their tears ?

Would you know the cause of this sadness — the source of
these tears ?

She mourns the innocent pleasures of youth ; she remembers
the quiet happiness of unnoticed retirement.

VIII.

THE FAIRY'S TEAR.

The lights which shone from the castle in which Marcella re-
sides, have been, for some time, extinguished ; the stars begin to
grow dim ; and the nightingale at the water-side is about to finish
her melodious cavatina. It is the hour at which the Flower
Fairy prepares to close the eyes of the marvels of Peru.

She comes with a light step, that she may not disturb the sleep

SERIOUS DISPUTE. 125

which is beginning to steal over them. All of a sudden, she
stops.

An unusual sound is heard. Groans, sobs, and occasionally the
faint echo of .some plaintive song, reach her ear.

The fairy listens, turning towards the part from which the
sound proceeds. Is it the wind sighing in that clump of aspens,
or the rill, which weeps as it leaves the protection of its native
rocks ?

There is not a breath of air to ruffle the topmost leaf; while
the thick moss hushes all the murmur of the rill.

It is a woman weeping. The fairy recognises her.

It is Marcella, who has left her couch of silk and of down, to
visit the plain.

Sleep has foEsaken her lids, or brings to her nothing but dismal
dreams. She is afflicted, and her eyes overflow.

She thinks of the time when she was a violet, and used to
awake all enraptured under the fresh kisses of the dew.

She sings as formerly, — "I wish I were a little flower/'

There are some sounds which reach the heart — accents which
never deceive us.

As she listened to Marcella, the fairy, who was flying over her
head, was greatly moved. She wept to behold one so handsome
and so unhappy.

126 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

One of her tears fell on Marcella's burning brow.

In an instant her metamorphosis was effected.

The fairy had a second time granted the prayer of the song.

On the following day search was everywhere made for Mar-
cella ; but no one could give any account of her.

In the place, however, where she used every night to sit, there
was found a superb violet, concealed by the grass.

Its beauty did not intrude upon the eye ; the flower was be-
trayed by its fragrance.

To restore Marcella to her former state, but one thing was
needed : —

That one thing was — repentance.

CANZONE.

THE FLOWER OF FOBpETFULNESS

We should avoid the flower of forgetfulness. We ought never
to inhale its deceptive odor.

It is beautiful and smiling. It looks at you with its soft eye.
It seems to speak, and to say to you:— " Approach: I am your
friend : I will give you comfort."

Do you know the hunter Ulric ? He has plucked the flower
of oblivion.

At first, a profound quiet succeeded to his sufferings, and he
could look back without pain on that which had afflicted him.

Ulric is now tired of indifference, and wishes again to love :
but he has plucked the flower of forgetfulness.

We never love again, when we have once forgotten.

Ulric wanders through the forest — he traverses the plain — and
he climbs the mountain. He inquires of the bird in the thicket,
of the flower in the furrow, and the rill in the mountain, why he,

128 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

alone, can no longer love. The bird, the flower, and the rill re-
ply : " Thou hast gathered the flower of forgetfulness."

The hunter now regrets the time when he was unhappy. At
least, he could then feel his heart beat.

"Alas !" he exclaimed, " there are then evils from which one is
relieved, only to suffer more/'

We must avoid the flower of forgetfulness : we must not even
inhale its deceptive odor.

Tell me, dear friend, tell me its name, that I may know it when
I meet with it

Some have called it moonwort. But men are unacquainted
with its true name. It has no name for them. It is called simply
the flower of forgetfulness.

Where does it grow ! In the wheat-fields yellow with summer
harvests ; in the crevices of the old castle ; in the midst of wide
meadows; under arbors; or far, far down below, in the mystic
country of the genii t

No, no, fair youth. In the depths of the heart lies hidden the
germ of that everlasting flower — the flower of oblivion.

r

•"3

l1

J

SISTER NENUPHAR.

As the devil, one day, was passing through the city of Bruges,
he came in front of the Ursuline convent The nuns, assembled
in the chapel, were singing hymns of praise.

The devil has always been a dilettante. " Zounds !" said he,
" there are some of the most charming voices I have ever heard.
I will go in for a moment, and hear the conclusion of the singing."
So he went in.

While listening to the music, the devil, who, as everybody
knows, has great curiosity, felt a wish to learn whether the nuns
were pretty women as well as fihe singers. He began to scruti-
nize them ; and being a connoisseur in such matters, his eye rested
upon a nun stationed near the entrance of the choir, by the high
altar.

A figure more emblematic of beauty, innocence, and repose, was
never presented to the contemplation of painter or devil. Her

17

130 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

large, mild eyes, and her look of fixed tranquillity, roused the
devil's vanity. "There," said he, "is a charming creature;
happy in repeating her paternosters ; having no care beyond the
walls of the convent ; an example and a model to all the sister-
hood. It would be a clever thing now to open her eyes, and to
make a little demon of the saint"

No sooner said than done. See the devil already changed to a
gallant cavalier, who is twisting his moustache, ayoid looking ear-
nestly at the Ursuline.

It is difficult, if not impossible, to have the devil's eye fastened
on yours, and not experience a sort of nervous irritation. No
one escapes this effect : the nun felt it. With a kind of mechan-
ical movement, she turned her eyes towards the handsome cava-
lier, and then let them fall again languidly on her missal. During
the rest of the performance, the devil had his labor for his
pains.

Still he did not give up as beaten.

At the hour when the nuns went into the garden, to enjoy the
warm, pure atmosphere of a pleasant spring-day, the devil slipped
in under the trees. He looked round for the nun, and found her
sitting on the grassy bank, under the fragrant shade of an arbor
of lilacs. She seemed to be indulging in one of those wild reve-
ries, which are the dangerous offspring of the odorous evening
air.

" The occasion favors us," said the devil to himself. " Let us
proceed."

He drew from his pocket the heart of a young woman who had

SISTER NENUPHAR. 131

died for love, and burning it under the form of a seraglio pastille,
he filled the air with perfume.

Instantly evoked by this magic charm, desires came to flit about
the nun. The breeze played in her hair, as if caressing it. The
clusters of the lilac rested wooingly uppn her head. The flowers,
the waters, the birds, all became vocal, and talked to her of
love.

The nun at length arose, and pressed her hand to her head.
" The charm works well," said the devil to himself: "in less than
an hour she is mine." But the nun, as if exhausted, had sunk
down upon the turf again.

u Whew !" said she, after a moment of repose, " it is very warm
here. I must go to the refectory." During all this magic spell
of Satan, she had been conscious of nothing but a slight elevation
of temperature. The devil was in a rage.

He determined that he would not be balked. I

That evening, he found his way into the nun's cell, under the
yellow cover of a fashionable romance. He assumed the form of
an octavo, and spread himself out, wide open, on the desk for
prayer. He had selected the most startling page in the book — a
love-scene, all panting, rustling, astounding. In every age, these
splendid specimens of rhetoric have thrown the imagination of
readers into confusion, and have served the purposes of Messire
Satanas.

The young woman took the book, and read the page which
had been opened for her. She then stretched out her arms with
a careless air, yawned, and fell asleep on her couch.

s

132 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

This time the devil was provoked.

*

Nothing remained but to try the power of dreams. He sum-
moned the whole throng ; he gave them their instructions ; and
resolved himself to superintend their operations. He leaned over
the bed of the young maiden. The dreams came, each in his
turn, and rested on her heart But there was nothing which in-
dicated that she was in the slightest degree disturbed by them.
Her sleep was quiet — her color unaltered — her pulse as regular
as usual. It seems, even, that towards midnight she began to
snore.

" Clearly," said the devil, " here is a nun who is not constituted
like nuns in general. I could have revolutionized a whole con-
vent with a single one of the means which I have employed
against her. She must have some secret charm, by which she is
protected. One would suppose that a frigid atmosphere circles
round her ; that some mysterious influence relaxes her nerves, stu-<
pifies her wits, and exhausts her bodily powers. It is strange : i
feel a sort of desire, to sleep myself" added the devil, as he rubbed
his eyes. " What can it mean ? Am I yielding to the influences
of the romance which I had to read T

As he said these words, the devil fell asleep.

He did not awake until the hour of matins, just as the nun left
her cell to resort to the chapel. The devil had to shake himself
for a long time before he could get his eyes open ; nor did he fully
recover the use of his faculties, till he was seventeen kilometres
distant from Bruges.

The devil, cunning as he is, had no idea who his adversary
was.

f

SISTER NENUPHAR. 133

Being upon the earth, — incapable of loving and of being loved,
— taking no part in the pains or the pleasures of mankind, — pale
and mournful, — the cold Water-lily could find no refuge but in a
convent. The languid and monotonous life of the nuns suited
her exactly. The absence of all the virtues, was in her esteemed
a virtue. Sister Nenuphar died in the odor of sanctity. The
nuns of Bruges procured her canonization.

A PETITION.

THE FLOWERS OF THE BALL-ROOM,

We are the flowers of the ball-room — the unhappy victims of
gay festivities.

Timid and reserved, we come with no adornment but our own
simple charms ; and we have to contend with those flowers of the
mine called diamonds.

Those children of fire, the opal, the amethyst, the turquoise,
and the topaz, sparkle in the lamp-light.

But we, who are daughters of the air and the dew, — we open
our eyes to look only at the moon and the stars. The atmosphere
of the dance dries and consumes us. Within a quarter of an hour
we wither.

Why, young maiden, dost thou place us among thy beautiful
tresses ? Look on thy toilet-table. Hast thou not flowers there,
made by human hands? — flowers which fear not the heat, nor

1

THE FLOWERS OF THE BALL-ROOM. 135

the dust, nor the light of lustres, nor the jostling of the crowd 1
Take us not, young lady, to the ball. Leave us to bathe our
pliant feet in these crystal vases. We will perfume thy apart-
ment ; and when thou shalt return, pale, weary, and pensive, we
will greet thee with smiles, and will mingle sweet dreams with
thy sleep.

O ! take us not, young lady, to the ball.

Alas! she heeds not We are twined in a fresh garland for
her hair ; we are blooming upon her bosom. Come, then ; we
must needs go. We are the flowers of the ball-room — the un-
happy victims of gay festivities.

One by one, our petals will be pulled out, and will be trodden
under foot Ere the ball is over, we shall lose our place in these
tresses — this cincture will hold us no longer. To-morrow some
coarse servant will pick us up, and throw us into the street

Once more, young maiden, we entreat thee, leave us here, in
thy virgin chamber, where we are so happy.

Thou art going. — Take care, young woman! living flower of
society, — sprightly ornament of the ball, — lest, treating thee as it
treats us, the world shall one day tread thee under foot, and leave
thee in the street

THE MYRTLE AND THE LAUREL.

A marquis and a colonel were living in the country. Old,
gouty, and what is worse, whimsical, they passed their time in
visiting one another. In the evening they came together to play
at cards, and to talk over the past incidents of their lives.

During the day, with the help of their gold-headed canes, they
would take a walk over the country — provided that the gout, the
rheumatism, the catarrh, or the weather, did not prevent The
s marquis was fond of walking in the direction of a certain castle,
situated a few gunshots distant from his own. It belonged to the
widow of the late president Z.

The marquis affirmed that the lady president was in the habit
of stationing herself behind the blinds, in order to see him pass.
This greatly excited the colonel's laughter, especially as the mar-
quis was nearly seventy years old, and the fair lady president was
on the verge of sixty.

" These old veterans," murmured the marquis, " never know
any thing of love."

if ^L J. >

//„«;,

//,./»,

r

THE MYRTLE AND THE LAUREL. 137

"These old intriguers," mumbled the colonel, "will never be,
convinced that there must be an end to every thing."

Upon this subject they indulged in many lively banters, which
they hurled at one another. These petty skirmishes gave anima-
tion to their walks, and added piquancy to their evening game at
cards.

This marquis was the Myrtle; this colonel was the Laurel.
The former had always lived at court; the latter had lived only
in the camp. They had come together after a long separation ;
and although it is said that the myrtle and laurel are brothers, the
marquis and the colonel were perpetually quarrelling.

This evening, the two companions were in a worse humor than
usual. The colonel had just thrown the queen of hearts upon
the table, and the marquis did not reply to his challenge.

There may be inattention that will exhaust the patience even
of a card-player.

" Well!" exclaimed the colonel, "will you play?"

" Spades," replied the marquis.

" Do you revoke the hearts V9

" Your pardon : I did not notice my play :" and he took up the
card which he had just dropped.

" Zounds ! of what are you thinking, marquis tM said the colonel
with a sneer. " Have the handsome eyes of the lady president
deprived you of your senses 1"

18

138 7.*HE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Without appearing to notice the bantering tone of the Laurel,
the Myrtle exclaimed : —

" My love is deep and tender,
Yet she no pity shows ;
Te gods ! like fortune send her,
Till mine shall be her woes."

" Bravo !" cried the colonel. The marquis resumed :

" Before a lover hard as steel,
In fruitless Borrow may she kneel,

Till she shall sadly learn,
What pangs the loving heart must feel,
That meets with no return !"

When he had finished, the colonel looked at the marquis with
an air of pity.

" Poor fellow !" said he, as though he were talking to himself.
" He fancies he is still at that old court, at the time when they
might be said to live on madrigals and bouquets for Chloris;
when stanzas were written on the death of some petty baroness's
hawk, and tender elegies were made on the lost parrot of madame,
the wife of the superintendent A pretty way, forsooth, of making
love !"

On hearing this apostrophe, the marquis could contain himself
no longer :

"It becomes you to talk of love," said he, "you, who never
made love to any but burgher's dames, in the small towns where
you lived in garrison. You ridicule little attentions and pretty

_y

THE MYRTLE AND THE LAUREL. 139

verses, because, old fox, halberdier, and pandour that you are, you
never experienced their charms/9

The colonel grew angry.

"A fine woman, like a citadel, should be carried by storm." *^

" No ; delicate attentions win the favor of the fair."

" To vanquish the most obstinate, one needs only to show a
brow wreathed with laurel."

"Not so: it is with a belt of myrtle that we must bind the
Loves."

Had there been a third person to share their conversation, he
might have reconciled the belligerent parties, by showing them
that the myrtle and the laurel agree perfectly ; that they cannot
dispense with each other's aid; and that it is as rare to see a
brave man insensible to the power of beauty, as it is to find a fol-
lower of Venus, who is an enemy to Bellona. But the colonel
and the marquis were by themselves. Besides this, for eight days
past, the mercury in the barometer had stood at variable; and
rheumatism made the two adversaries more obstinate than usual.
The colonel proposed a duel to the marquis.

" Let us go out at once," he replied.

But neither of them was able to rise from his arm-chair.

Poor Myrtle ! Poor Laurel !

There they are, disputing for precedence ; and all this time the

140 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

world has forgotten them both. The world laughs at their no-
tions. For a long time, indeed, it has had nothing to do with
either the myrtle or the laurel.

Gallantry and bravery have gone out of fashion. Ridicule has
done them justice.

/ To whom should one be gallant! To women who smoke —
who drink grog — who ride horseback — who fence — and write
novels ?

Of what use is bravery t There are no wars now-a-days. We
do not even fight duels. A hero now, is a character perfectly
ridiculous.

The reign of the myrtle and the laurel is over.

The marquis and colonel had no idea of this. They had re-
tired from society before the change took place ; and they were
destined to carry their illusions to the grave.

However, their existence had not been unhappy.

Upon his first arrival on earth, the Myrtle became incarnated
in the person of a marquis.

He lived at court Brisk, spruce, witty, and gallant, he was
unequalled in the difficult arts of making acrostics and bouts-
rimes.*

• Bouts-rimes, — words or syllables that rhyme, arranged in a particular order, and given
to a poet, with a subject, on which he must write verses, ending in the same rhymes, and
disposed in the same order. — [Tr.

r

>

THE MYRTLE AND THE LAUREL. 141

He could embroider on the tambour — could purfle — and make
paper-cuts.

He spent the day in writing billet-doux, and love-letters in
rhyme.

His success was without bound.

The Laurel, as was proper, selected a career totally unlike to
that of the Myrtle.

As he was passing over the Pont-Neuf, he fell in with a recruit-
ing officer, who enlisted him in the service of the king of France.

He served a campaign under the Prince of Soubise, and cap-
tured Port-M ahon to the music of Marshal Richelieu's violins.

He came home with the commission of colonel.

During the whole of his military career, he was accustomed to
make love with a bold front and a conquering air. Still this did
not prevent him from being quite as successful as his comrade, the
Myrtle.

Accordingly, he could not brook the airs of superiority which
the latter, from time to time, assumed, and which were the source
of perpetual quarrels between them.

The dispute which we have just related, had gone too far to
stop where it was. Seated, or rather fastened in their arm-chairs,
for a short time they looked at one another, like two china-dogs,
or, as some would say, like two lions. At length the marquis
hemmed, and said :

142 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"Ah, those were delightful times." He would have said more,
but a violent fit of coughing stopped him short

The colonel took advantage of this little respite, to stuff his
nose with snuff, — showing, at the same time, by certain motions
of his head, that he approved of his comrade's last remark.

"My dear friend," said he to the marquis, after a moment's
silence, " do you know one thing 1"

" What do you mean !"

" That we ought now to begin to think of beating a retreat
War and gallantry have had their day. Youth looks with scorn
on the fires of Venus, as well as on the sports of Mars. It regards
you as a butterfly, and me as an old invalid. It is well to know
how to retire in season. The art of retreating is, of all arts, per-
haps the most difficult Our course on earth will not have been
without its charms, if we can but save ourselves from the ennui of its
closing scenes. Let us return to our good friend, the Flower Fairy."

" Can you really be thinking of it?"

" Indeed, I think of nothing else,"

"And — the lady president!"

■

The colonel could not help laughing outright

"Zounds! cried the marquis.

"There now, — don't get into a passion," replied the colonel,
still laughing.

F

THE MYRTLE AND THE LAUREL. 143

"You shall give me satisfaction/' said the marquis, displaying
his coat-of-arms.

" Whenever you wish," fiercely replied the colonel to the chal-
lenge of his antagonist

" Insolent fellow !"

" Fop r

We forgot to mention that the arms of the marquis consisted of
a myrtle sprig, held by a cupid, and quartered with a scarf of silk.
The colonel's escutcheon — for he, too, had his heraldric bearings,
— consisted of a shield, shaded by a branch of laurel, held in a
gauntleted hand. They could swear, at any time, one by his
arms, and the other by his escutcheon.

The Myrtle and Laurel attempted to seize each other by the
hair. But again a violent paroxysm of coughing pinned them to
their seats. The catarrh preserved humanity from witnessing a
novel and dreadful tragedy.

The Myrtle first recovered his speech :

" It is very strange that you should pretend to doubt the success
of one who was the flower of marquises in his day."

"It well becomes you," replied the Laurel, "to threaten me —
who have been, in my time, a thunderbolt of war."

" The bolt is extinct"

" Yes : and the flower is faded."

144 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

More enraged than ever, they made a last, desperate attempt to
get at one another. This violent effort was fatal to them. Proba-
bly some blood-vessel broke in their chests. They expired at
/ the same moment The Myrtle maintained to the last, his claims
to the reputation of a successful intriguer ; while the Laurel died,
as he had lived, with his fist clenched.

F

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MARGUERTINE

THE ORACLE OF THE MEADOWS

Anna awoke with the dawn, and took the path to the meadow. ^

The bird had but just begun its sweet warble : the flowers stills
hung their heads, laden with dew.

Anna looked round in every direction, and at length stopped ,
before a daisy.

It was the finest daisy in the field. Freshly opened on its
graceful little stem, it was looking sweetly up to heaven.

" There," said Anna, " is what I have come to consult.

" Beautiful daisy," said she, as she bent over the fair prophetess,
"you are about to reveal to me my secret. Does he love me ?"*

• This divination by the daisy, is conducted as follows : The young maiden, holding the
flower in her hand, first asks the question, " M'aime-t-il V She then repeats successively
the phrases, " II m'aime, un pen, — beaucoup, — passionnement, — pas du tout ;" and, with
each phrase, plucks a white leaf from the daisy. The phrase corresponding with the last
leaf plucked, gives the response.— [Tr.

10

s

146 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Then she plucked the first leaf.

Instantly she heard the daisy utter a faint, plaintive cry, and
say:—

" Like thee, little Anna, I have been young and pretty. Like

thee, I have lived and have loved.

i

"Ludwig never went to a flower, to know whether I loved
hhn.

"He asked me the question himself, — wresting from me each
day a syllable of the word love, and forcing me by degrees to
confess it all. As you pluck away, one by one, my leaves, so,
gradually, did he deprive me of those precious sentiments, which
are the safeguard of innocence.

"As my corolla will be, when thou shalt have plucked all the
leaves, so naked and unshielded remained my poor heart I was
distressed: I regretted the loss of my white leaves — my precious
sentiments.

"Harm not the daisy, little Anna, for the daisy is thy sister.
Let it enjoy the life which God has given it. As a reward, I will
tell thee my secret.

" Men treat women as the latter treat the daisy. They wish
for an answer to the double question — »* Does she love me ? — does
she not love me V Young girl, never reply to it. Man will cast
thee off, after having plucked away thy leaves."

It i§ not known whether little Anna availed herself of the
daisy's secret

T r i

CAMELLIA'S REGRETS.

I.

IMPERIA.

There was nothing in Venice so much talked of, as the at-
tractions of the Countess Import.

Her proud and majestic beauty struck every one with admira-
tion. Her white, velvet-like complexion, slightly shaded with
rose-tints, was the envy of all the Venetian ladies. The most
distinguished of the nobility gathered round her — a brilliant and
numerous court The illustrious husband of the sea, the doge
himself, remarked, on the day of his coronation, that had he been
free to choose, the Adriatic would not have received his nuptial
ring.

The gondoliers of Venice were admirers of her beauty ; and
at evening, on the shore, when the improvisator, as he recited
stanzas from the Jerusalem Delivered, spoke to the crowd of Ar-
mida, of CI or in da, and of Herminia, he would add, in his enthu~

s

/

/

148 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

siastic excitement, that they were as beautiful as the Countess
Imperia.

She received all this homage indiscriminately. The nobles
were readily admitted to her presence — but there was no appear-
ance of her favoring one more than another. Such virtue and
beauty combined, made the countess an exception to her sex, and
spread her fame through all Italy.

As it would be a splendid triumph to vanquish so stubborn a
heart, the emulation of the young Venetians was intensely excited.
The accepted lover of the beautiful Imperia, could succeed only
against numerous and formidable rivals.

The impression had begun to prevail in Venice, that the
countess had resolved never to marry, when it was announced
that she had made her choice.

II.

STENIO.

Stenio was one of the youngest and most amiable of the Ve-
netian cavaliers, — of high rank and of great wealth.

His success seemed so well deserved, that even envy was
dumb.

To understand what were the feelings of Stenio, you need but
glance at the following letter, written the evening before his mar-
riage, to Paolo, the friend of his youth : —

CAMELLIA'S REGRETS. 149

" Dear Friend :

" She has consented to bestow on me her hand. Do you ap- /
predate my happiness, Paolo ! She loves me !

" There are moments still, when I doubt my good fortune. I
sometimes say to myself, ' It cannot be so. This noble and proud
being could never love a mortal. And yet, why should she select
me ! What motive but love, could induce her to give up to me
that freedom which she has held so tenaciously V

" You know me, Paolo, and you know that my single ambition
has ever been, to possess a woman's affections; to reign there
without a partner, and without control ; to interchange my soul
with hers; and to live in the delights of a mutual sympathy.
This dream of earthly bliss I shall realize. God gave not beauty
as a fruitless possession. In those whom he has endowed with
power to inspire emotions of love, he has implanted the heart to
feel them too. &

"Thank heaven, Paolo, it has granted the wishes of thy
friend.

" Stenio."

III.

PAOLO'S ANSWER.

" Take care of thyself. Thou art a poet I"

150 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

IV.

AFTER MARRIAGE.

We shall say nothing of the wedding of Stenio and Imperia.
r All Venice remembers it Enough to say that it was worthy of
the bridegroom and the bride.

Stenio took his wife into the country.

He wished to spend the first period of the honey-moon, so
sweet and delightful, in the midst of solitude — beneath the shade
of trees, — where birds warble, and breezes murmur, and flowers
perfume the air.

" How happy shall we be !" said he to his wife.

She answered by a sigh, and Stenio thought himself the hap-
piest of men. That very evening, he started with Imperia for his
country-seat

V.

COUNTRY DIVERSIONS,

/ At the end of fifteen days, it appeared that the fair Imperia
found the country somewhat monotonous.

After a few promenades under the old chestnut-trees, she be-
came exceedingly fatigued.

CAMELLIA'S REGRETS. 151

When Stenio proposed that they should sit upon the grassy
bank, she would pretend that the grass was damp, and that a good
arm-chair was decidedly preferable.

In the evening, when the moon shed her saddening light on the
terrace of the old castle, and Stenio asked her to go and listen
with him to the melodies of the night, she would reply that she
was apt to take cold.

One day she complained that the singing of the nightingales in-
terrupted her sleep.

*\ Clearly, the country did not suit Imperia. Her husband de-
cided to return to the city.

VI.

THE SCENE LIES IN VENICE.

"After all," said Stenio, "one can be as much alone in a palace
as in a cottage. I have caused the old mansion of my ancestors
to be renovated. It is now a nest of silk, and velvet, and gold, in
which my dove will be very comfortable. We shall live for each
other — far from bustle — far from society and festivity. To me
alone will she disclose the treasures of her heart"

As soon as she arrived, Imperia visited the palace. She ex-
amined successively all the apartments, and seemed satisfied with
the taste and liberality which had directed the arrangements. In
very decided language, she expressed to her husband the satisfac-
tion which she felt

152 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"At length," said he to himself, with a thrill of delight, "at
length she understands me."

Stenio, as the reader has doubtless discovered, was one of those
persons who dream of an existence like that of the sylphs and the
genii, — of a life which flows, ever and sweetly, in the midst of
music and of poetry, — and in the spiritual interchange of the
most tender emotions. He thought that his wife would have the
same sentiments.

Unhappily, he was mistaken.

If, seated at the feet of the fair Imperia, he asked her to take
her guitar, and sing to him some song of love, she would press
her hand to her brows, and exclaim — "A dreadful headache !"

If he attempted to read to her a few pages from one of his fa-
vorite poets, she would stretch herself, with a yawn, upon the
sofa, and curse the heat, and grumble at the sirocco.

As often as he attempted to be sentimental with her, Imperia
used to cut him short.

" Is it not," he would say, " my precious love, is it not delightful

to

»

Never could he get any farther. As soon as she heard this
phrase, Imperia would complain of a pain in her stomach, or re-
mark on the danger of taking ices after dinner.

Stenio bore the evil patiently, and hoped that these indis-
positions would pass away. His illusions were never dissi-
pated.

CAMELLIA'S JR EG RETS. 153

One day, Imperia came to him with a sweet smile, and the sal-
utation, " My dear lord"

"Now," thought Stenio, "we are, at last, about to enjoy the
delights of mutual sympathy."

" Is it not, my precious love," he hastened to reply, " is it not
delightful to" —

u To have festivities — to receive our friends — and to live in
the world," resumed Imperia. " Do you not mean soon to invite
to a grand ball all the choice society of Venice t We ought, I
think, now that we are married, to maintain our station re-
spectably."

To Stenio this was a clap of thunder. A few days afterwards,
he thus wrote to his friend : —

VII.

THE SECOND LETTER TO PAOLO.

" I am the most unhappy of men. Imperia does not understand

" You should have seen how brilliant she looked, as she pre-
sented herself before me, dressed for the ball. Alas ! she cares
for nothing but show, luxury, dress, and making a figure in the
world. She is a heartless woman.

u Seeing her so fine and so gay, I determined to be revenged.

so

154 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

/" ' Madam/ said I to her, ' you are like that flower called the
camellia, which a Jesuit has lately brought hither from China. It
is delightful to the eye, but contributes nothing to the smell. You,
madam, are beautiful, but you lack that fragrance of beauty, which
we call love.'

" Having pronounced these withering words, I looked steadily
at her. She smiled.

" ' You are not far from the truth/ said she : 'I am the Ca-
mellia/— and then she walked proudly into the ball-room.

" Yet before she went in, I thought she turned towards me a
sad look. What could that look mean 1

" Ah ! my friend, pity me ; and let me once more tell you that
I am the most unhappy of men,"

VIII.

PAOLO'S SECOND ANSWER.

" Did I not tell you so !M

IX.

THE CAMELLIA.

One day, a black gondola stopped before the palace of the
beautiful Imperia. The rowers knocked at the door, and then
' placed a dead body on the threshold.

CAMELLIA'S REGRETS. 155

It was the body of Stenio.

It had been found extended on the shore of Lido, pierced to
the heart by a poniard. A scrap of paper lay near him, on
which he had written these few words: — "She never loved me.
May God have mercy on my souL"

At the sight of this corpse, Camellia felt her eyes moisten. She
looked long at the soiled hair, the sightless eyes, and the blood-
stained breast of her youthful spouse ; and then, imprinting a kiss
on his pale brow, she exclaimed :

"Accursed be the day when I sought a life upon earth ! Had
the fairy said to me, * Thou wilt have a heart without sensibility,
and an unfeeling soul ; thou wilt sit by, unmoved at the sight of
calamities which thou hast caused ; thou wilt shine with a fatal
beauty, that shall reflect not one emotion of tenderness:' — had
she warned me of this, I would never have asked for a change of
lot The flower may exist without fragrance, but woman cannot
live without love.

O fairy !" added she, " restore my former shape. Let me be
once more a camellia. There is no lack of heartless women here
on earth."

The Flower Fairy was prompt in granting her prayer. Once
more a flower, Imperia remembered Stenio. A splendid camellia
was soon seen to rise, as by enchantment, over the grave of the
youth.

The suicide of Stenio, and the disappearance of his widow,
which occurred soon after, were, for a long time, the topics of
conversation.

156 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Nobody knew any thing concerning this death, — and when
some one spake of it to Paolo, he replied: —

" 1 had warned him : but he was a poet !"

w

\

PIANTO.

THE EVERLASTING FLOWER.

Said the Lavender to the Everlasting Flower :

"We have been living together on the same hill. Spring is
about to end, and I perceive that my leaves are drying up. To-
morrow I shall be no more. But thou wilt still live ; thou wilt
still listen to the merry strains of the lark ; and like her, thou wilt
hail the sun when he comes to dry thy feet, moistened by the
dews. Since it is so delightful to live, why should I be con-
demned to die V9

The Everlasting Flower replied .

" In nature every thing is changing — every thing is renewed. I
alone remain unaltered.

" Spring gives me no renovated youth. Through all the heats
of summer — through all the frosts of winter, my leaves retain
their everlasting paleness.

" I never hear round me the sweet murmur of the bee. The

158 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

butterfly never powders me with his wing. The breeze passes
by me without stopping, and the young girls never come near me.
Who would care to gather the flower of the grave — the cold and
severe Immortelle !

" Once more, blue-eyed Lavender, wave thy long ears in sign
of gladness. Raise thy eyes to heaven, and be grateful. Thou
art happy, for thou wilt die.

" While I, a wretch condemned, must still drag out the bleak
days and the long nights of winter — must still shiver beneath the
snow — still listen, amid the darkness, to the monotonous waitings
of the dead.

"But thou, Lavender, wilt die; and thy soul will mount to
heaven with thy perfume.

"Listen — while I confide to thee my prayer. Say to him who
made us both, that immortality is a fatal gift. Ask that he recall
me to himself, the supreme source of happiness and of life."

i

CHEVRETTE,

THE PRETTY GOATHERD

L

PRINCE CHARMANT.

As Prince Charm ant was walking, one day, with his tutor, in
the country, he met a young goatherd.

She had black hair, black eyes, a quick step, a sprightly coun-
tenance— together with a slight air of smartness and timidity,
which gave her, at times, a sort of resemblance to the pretty ani-
mal whose name she bore.*

Her name was Chevrette, and she tended goats in the neigh-
borhood.

" Olifour !" said Prince Charmant to his tutor.

" What is your highness's pleasure t" replied the other.

u Do you see that young girl t*

• La chevrette,— the doe.

160 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" I do."

u What do you think of her T
"I think — whatever you please."
" Well, I think her adorable."

"Adorable."

" I have a project on foot which I consider excellent"

" Excellent"

" I mean to make her my wife."

Here Olifour could not help remonstrating.

" But what will your grand-parents think of it t What will
your father and mother say 1 How will it appear to your sub-
jects, and to the earth, and the sky, and gods, and men ? Besides,
your mother will not give her consent"

" We shall see about that"

" You are not yet of age."

" That's nothing."

" You will never succeed."

" You will see."

THE PRETTY GOATHERD. 161

II.

A MOTHER IN TEARS.

The queen tore her hair, and shed a flood of tears.

Prince Charmant had just informed her of his intentions re-
specting Chevrette.

His mother threw herself at his feet, and implored him to re-
linquish a design which would certainly cause her death. Prince
Charmant resisted all her entreaties.

"What firmness!" thought Olifour, who was present at this
scene. "And yet it was I who educated him."

The queen went so far as to threaten her son with her male-
diction. Then Prince Charmant, in his turn, threw himself on
the floor, plucked out his downy beard, tore his caftan to rags, and
declared that, since she would not allow him to marry the woman
he loved, he had formed the invincible resolution, to die of con-
sumption within six months.

" No, my son, no, thou shalt not die," said the distracted queen.
" Save yourself for our love, and for the admiration of your peo-
ple. Go, Olifour, and find Chevrette. I intend that my son shall
marry her immediately."

"What Machiavellism this!" again thought Olifour. "How

162 JHE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

ompletely his stratagem has succeeded ! What a pupil I have
>rouffht ud I"

brought up

He then went to find Chevrette.

III.

CHEVRETTE AT COURT.

Chevrette would rather have remained a goat-tender, than
marry Prince Charmant But her parents were poor and avari-
cious, and she was compelled to submit.

At court, Chevrette soon discovered that Prince Charmant was
a simpleton, and his tutor Olifour, a blockhead.

As for the king and queen, they were good, honest creatures,
who never saw any thing farther off than the end of their son's
nose.

Chevrette, as might be supposed, found it very wearisome.
She would have been delighted to run, jump, and gambol in the
fields. The restraints of etiquette made her miserable. She was
constantly committing some gross violation of the rules. At the
reception, for instance, of the ambassador from the emperor of
Parapaphignolle, she kissed the left side of his moustache, instead
of the right. The emperor of Parapaphignolle, incensed at the
outrage thus offered to his envoy, talked of nothing less than car-
rying fire and sword into the territories of Prince Charmant.
They had great difficulty in making him listen to reason, and
settle the affair.

THE PRETTY GOATHERD. 163

It was not that Chevrette was without instruction. For three
hours every day, her husband made her go through a course of
etiquette. But after this was over, she would go down to the
garden, and there forget the whole,' while she played with a little
goat At the slightest sign — at the simple presentation of a
flower-stem — this goat would follow her anywhere.

In consideration of this ignorance and indocility, which might
endanger, it was thought, the future interests of the kingdom, it
was decreed by the council of state, that Chevrette should be
intrusted to the charge of Olifour, for the completion of her edu-
cation.

The council distinctly stated to Olifour, that if, at the end of
three months, the princess, being subjected to a public examina-
tion, should not be found able to solve every possible question of
ceremony and etiquette, he must lose his head.

IV.

WHAT SAVED OLIFOUR.

This was nothing but the escape of Chevrette, who disap-
peared that very evening, after the decision of the ministers
became known.

164 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

V.

WHAT RUINED HIM.

This was nothing but the imprudent delight which he showed,
on learning that the princess had fled.

Some envious persons informed Prince Charmant that, for a
good while, Olifour had been losing his faculties ; and, upon the
representation of these people, he caused his head to be taken off.

VI.

A KIND FATHER'S PROPOSITION.

Meanwhile the king knew nothing of his son's despair. To
supply the place of Chevrette, he offered to let him marry all the
pretty goatherds in his kingdom.

Prince Charmant declined, affirming that nothing remained for
him but to die of consumption — and that such was his fixed in-
tention, in case they should not succeed in discovering the place
of Chevrette's retreat

But all attempts to do so were unavailing.

The queen went and consulted the fairy, who had presided
over the birth of her son — feeling confident that she would never

THE PRETTY GOATHERD. 165

allow a prince, whom she had crowned with the richest gifts of
person and intellect, to die of consumption.

The fairy heard the queen's story, and resolved to comfort her.
She informed her of what had occurred in the kingdom of
flowers, and apprized her that Chevrette was no other than the
Honeysuckle, which had been incarnated in the person of a young
and pretty goatherd.

" You are aware that the Honeysuckle is too wild, too simple-*-
hearted, too capricious also, to get along at court. Let her stay
in the country with her goats ; and tell your son that I intend for
him a pretty little princess, and he must tell me what he thinks
of her."

The queen repeated to her son, the conversation which she
had had with the fairy. The thought of the little princess brought
him to reflection ; and he promised his mother that he would not
die of consumption.

" A strange story this, nevertheless," thought he. " It is a great
pity that I had Olifour's head cut off. We would have had, to-
gether, a good laugh over this."

VII.

THE END.

After leaving the palace, Chevrette began to consider what she
should do.

" Faith !" said she, " I will tend goats again."

166 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

But where to find a flock ? She turned her steps towards her
father's cottage.

The cottage had passed into other hands.

Since the marriage of their daughter, Chevrette's father and
mother had been ashamed of the peasant's life.

They had gone to the adjoining town, where they were living
in a fine palace.

Chevrette was now at great loss what to do.

" If I return to the city, Prince Charmant will have me taken
by his guards, and I shall be compelled to go back to court, where
ennui will kill me.

" If I stay in the country, how am I to get a living V

• She was in the midst of these perplexing thoughts, when she
heard behind her a bleat of joy.

It was her goat, her favorite goat, which she had taken with
her to court, and which, seeing her come away, had escaped and
followed her.

She dismissed, for a moment, every thought of vexation, to re-
ceive the caresses of her goat The faithful creature jumped and
frisked round his mistress, rubbing, occasionally, his handsome
face against her bosom.

" Well, dost thou love me, my poor goat V9 said she, " and right
glad art thou to see me again. Alas! I have nothing to give

THE PRETTY GOATHERD. 167

thee ; not a blade of clover for thee to eat, — nor even a poor shed
to shelter thee from the wolf at night."

Hardly had she uttered these words, when she heard some one
exclaim, " Gracious heavens !"

The person who said this was a young goatherd, by name, Jas-
min. He was wandering about the forest, sad and lonely, because
he had lost Chevrette, whom he loved.

But Chevrette did not know this.

Seeing him, she felt reassured. She called him : " Jasmin !
Jasmin !"

He came to her, and she told him of her troubles. In return,
Jasmin informed her of all that he had suffered during her
absence.

Chevrette wiped away her tears, and bade Jasmin take com-
fort "Had she been aware of his love, never would she have
consented to marry Prince Charmant"

The goatherd followed Chevrette's advice. He brushed away
his tears, and was consoled. Chevrette allowed him to accom-
pany her into the heart of the forest. There Jasmin and Chevre-
Feuille were married, and lived happily.

ALTRO CANZONE.

THE FLOWER OF REMEMBRANCE

A flower had fallen from her tresses, and he was about to
pick it up — but she stopped him.

" Leave it," said she ; " leave the flower which the wind has
taken, and accept this."

Then taking me from her bosom, she placed me in the hand of
her friend.

* Delicate, darling flower," said he, while he smiled upon me,
"I will preserve thee forever, flower of love, flower of remem-
brance !"

He carried me home ; he placed me in a vase of purest crystal,
and looked at me perpetually. Yet while he looked at me, he
saw only her.

" Flower of my beloved," he would often say, " how delightful
thy perfume ! how it intoxicates the heart !

THE FLOWER OF REMEMBRANCE. 369

" Thou hast been in her hand ; her breath has passed over thee.
Among a thousand flowers, I should recognise thee."

Meanwhile my hues began to fade, and my stem to droop. He
took me in his hand, and mournfully said :

" Poor flower ! thou art dying, I perceive. Come, I will make
for thee a tomb, in a secret, sacred spot, where I shall bury thee,
as it were, by the side of my soul."

He then slipped me in among the letters of his beloved.

I was happy to repose in so sweet an atmosphere. He often
visited my tomb, where I, a grateful shade, would revive my old
perfume, and appear to him in all the beauty of my youth. Then
would his love also seem young and fresh as ever.

But, gradually, his visits grew less frequent.

The other day he came, took the letters, and, without reading
them, committed them to the flames.

He noticed me, and looked at me a good while. He seemed,
as it were, to say, "How earnest thou here t"

Then he seized me, and took me to the window, where I soon
found that I was slipping away from his heedless fingers.

The ingrate no longer recognised me — that flower that came
from the bosom of his loved one — the flower of remembrance !

The wind spread far and wide my poor, withered leaves.

32

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY.

THE PORTERS TATTLE.

Never did M. Coquelet, who was a retired annuitant, pass the
lodge of his porter, in the morning, without communicating every
thing remarkable that had happened to him during the night
Had he heard a mouse run over the floor ; had the string of his
cotton night-cap got untied; had he dreamed of a cat, — M. Jab-
ulot was always sure to be the first to hear of it.

The name — we must confess it — of the good annuitant's por-
ter was — Jabulot And why not t His own name was Coquelet.

On the other hand, had some lodger returned later, or gone out
earlier than usual ; had the third story been quarrelling with the
entre-sol ;* or had the ground floor turned up its nose at the attic,

* The entre-sol is a story immediately above the ground floor

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 171

M. Jabulot charged himself with giving the information to M.
Coquelet, before he told the milkwoman, the fruitwoman, the
oysterwoman, or any of the other gossips of the place.

Strange circumstance ! The lodger was attached to his porter.
Thing incredible ! The porter sympathized with his lodger.

On the day when our narrative begins, M. Coquelet assumed a
tragical attitude, as he stopped before the porter's lodge,

" Father Jabulot," said he, in a solemn voice, " give the notice
to our proprietor, that I am going to quit"

Father Jabulot dropped the broom which he held in his hand,
and stared at M. Coquelet with his mouth wide open.

u Put up the notice to-day," added he, speaking slowly, to add
more force to his words ; " my resolution is fixed."

" To remove !" said the porter, after a moment's silence, pro-
duced by his astonishment at hearing such a fact announced ; " to
leave an apartment which you have occupied five and twenty
years !"

u Six months, eleven days, five hours, and twenty-five minutes ;"
and M. Coquelet sighed.

" An apartment of two rooms, so cool in summer, and so warm

in winter.

"Ah!"

n

" A floor which I sweep, and keep as bright as a mirror."

172 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"Ah! ah! ah!" sobbed Coquelet. "It must be so! It must
be so !"

"Must be? Has the government, then, become bankrupt?
Are you ruined, my dear M. Coquelet? Good God! Good
God !"

Jabulot now wiped away a tear.

" Be comforted, father Jabulot, be comforted ; it is not that"

"Then, perhaps," said the porter, straightening himself up,
"you have some complaint to make of me. Tell it, sir, tell it
At any age, one may do wrong; but so, also, can one at any age
correct himself."

"I am happy, Jabulot, to do you the justice to say, that with
the painful decision which I have made, you have nothing to
do."

" What, then, is it ? What is it ? What is it ?"

" Can you not guess, Jabulot ?"

" Not at all. The house so neat, so well kept, where I have
lived myself for more than forty years. Really, M. Coquelet, I
am not at all like you. If you should offer me the best porter's
place in Paris, I would not give up my post Where I have once
fixed my affections, there I would wish to die. So far gratify me,
as to tell me of what it is that you complain. You have a land-
lord who allows no dogs on his premises. Your fellow lodgers
are of the most distinguished classes in society: a bailiff, a
writing-master, a manufacturer of hat-boxes : your neighbors — "

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 173

"I must stop you there, Jabulot, — since I am obliged to confess
to you, it is my neighbors who compel me to part from you."

"Your neighbors! Why you have on your floor, only that
young man, and that little workwoman, who occupy the attics on
either side of your apartment As to M. Franz — "

" Oh, he is not the person."

"I can well believe that. An angel — a little saint — who
spends the whole day at his toil, — who sees no one, and never
goes out, except to carry home his work. As to the other, — mad-
emoiselle Pierrette — "

" The little villain !"

"Ah! it is she, then, who troubles you. True, she did repulse
you somewhat rudely the other day ; but then, you took the lib-
erty to — "

"Know, monsieur Jabulot, that I never take any liberties. It is
enough for you to be informed, that this demoiselle Pierrette is
not a suitable neighbor for a peaceable, regular citizen, who goes
to bed at eight o'clock in the evening, and who does not like to
be waked up at midnight, — an honest and virtuous man, who has
no idea of being compelled to hear every thing that a set of
giddy-brained youth may choose to sing to the air of tra la la.
Let Mademoiselle Pierrette and her worthy compeers, engage as
much as they please in their ridiculous orgies — I depart, — I quit
forever, a spot which was once quiet and respectable: I give
public and solemn notice."

The rattle of a hackney-coach was heard in front of the house;

174 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

and M. Coquelet had scarcely finished his tirade, when a little
girl, whose head was covered with a clown's cap, and who was
enveloped in a large plaid, passed like a sylph before the lodge.
Gliding between the two old men, she began to ascend the stairs
in a nimble, frisking manner, saying, as she went, " Good morn-
ing, monsieur Coquelet ; my compliments, if you please, to Mr.
Canary."

M. Coquelet had a passion for canaries.

IL

THE NEIGHBORS.

On the same floor with Coquelet's apartments, were, as M. Jab-
ulot remarked, two attics.

One was occupied by a young man — the other by a young girl.
The apartment of M. Coquelet was between them.

Contrary to all the rules of art, we shall first give an account
of the young man.

He was hardly eighteen years old. In his innocent face you
could plainly perceive, in the midst of that frankness which was
its most striking feature, an air of poetic elevation, which made
him resemble one of those seraphs, represented on a ground of
gold, and which are so common in the pictures of the middle
ages.

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 175

A seraph residing in a house which has a porter named Jabu-
lot, and a lodger named Coquelet ! Does it seem to you impos-
sible 1 In that you are mistaken. One must not be too skeptical.
Seraphs may live anywhere.

Franz was one certainly. He came upon earth to accomplish
some mission, not known to us. Otherwise, could he have been
so well-behaved, so regular, so persevering in his toil? At his
age, it is common to seek pleasure and amusement But through
the whole day he never left his table ; and when evening came,
his sole pleasure, his only relaxation, consisted in leaning pen-
sively over the ledge of his window, and looking at the sky,
studded with blazing stars.

You will doubtless ask me what was his employment 1 Rest
assured, he did not write novels, nor sonnets, nor plays, nor
vaudevilles.

" What then!"

At once, then, to satisfy your curiosity, I will tell you : he
copied music.

So much for the angel. We come now to the demon, who
called herself mademoiselle Pierrette.

She is sixteen years old. She has a perpetual smile on her
lips, and the lightning has a home in her eye.

Her lips are rosy — her eyes are black.

I say nothing of her stature, of her feet, of her hands, or of her
hair. I simply refer you to all the pictures of grisettes, that ap-

176 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

peared from eighteen hundred thirty, down to eighteen hundred
forty-six, inclusively.

For mademoiselle Pierrette was neither more nor less than a
grisette. It is true, that she assumed the title of artiste en couture.

We have also to state, that M. Coquelet had not always been
so angry with mademoiselle Pierrette, as we saw him this morning.

On the day previous, he had presented himself at the door of
the artiste in dresses, otherwise called mantuamaker.

It was just before noon.

M. Coquelet knocked gently at mademoiselle Pierrette's door
Tap ! No answer. Tap ! tap ! tap ! but still no answer. At
length, perceiving that the key was in the door, he went in.

This was very bold of M. Coquelet; but the motive of the
action must furnish its excuse.

The young woman was asleep in an old, worm-eaten arm-
chair. Near her hung all the articles of a shepherdess's costume.
A candle, of which only the stump remained, was still burning, in
the mouth of a bottle, which served for candlestick.

" O youth ! youth ! heedless youth !" said M. Coquelet, talking
to himself. But before uttering this exclamation, the annuitant,
foreseeing that his discourse might be longer than usual, had
taken care to extinguish the candle.

Among other virtues, M. Coquelet possessed, in a very high de-
gree, that of economy.

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 177

As he was about to take up the broken thread of his discourse,
the young girl awoke.

" Ah !" said she, seeing M. Coquelet before her, with his arms
crossed, " is it you t"

" It is I, mademoiselle.'1

" What o'clock is it ?"

As she said this, mademoiselle Pierrette rubbed her eyes. M.
Coquelet went to the window, and drew away the curtain.

" Look out !" said he, in a magisterial voice.

The street was full of noise and motion, and a bright spring
sun filled the chamber with its cheerful rays.

"Will you be so good as to close those curtains," exclaimed
mademoiselle Pierrette, with some impatience. "Why did you
awake me V

" I wish to say something to you."

" Well, I wish to sleep."

She threw herself again into her chair, and rested her pretty
head upon the back — as if about to do what she had inti-
mated.

This time, M. Coquelet paid no attention to the wishes of mad-
emoiselle Pierrette. He assumed a determined look, and said to
her, in a firm, indignant voice :

\

178 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" How long, wretched girl, do you mean to give yourself up to
these wanton follies? How long shall your misconduct be the
common topic of the neighborhood? What! can neither the
porter's frowning looks, nor the complaints and remonstrances of
the lodgers, exert any restraint upon your conduct tM

" Have you got nearly through your discourse V9 said Pierrette,
yawning at the same time. " I give you notice that I am about
falling asleep."

"Just so," said Coquelet: "when we turn night into day, we
must, of course, turn day into night. But do you not see, that by
this course of life, you are destroying your youth, and ruining
your health V9

" What is that to you !"

" Do you ask, ingrate, what is that to me 1 Well, then, know — "

" What now ?"

Before replying, Coquelet planted himself proudly before his
questioner.

" How old do you take me to be !"

" Sixty-two "

" I am but fifty-eight I have a valuable office."

99

« What of that 1

"I can demand my pension."

J

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 179

" What more t"

" To retire with an annuity of foil three thousand livres."

"Well!"

u To share them with a wife, and to make her happy"

« Indeed !"

u Will you be that wife ? Do you consent to become madam
Coquelet T

The old annuitant thought, for a moment, of getting on his
knees. But as he was not certain that Pierrette would bid him
rise, he decided to await her answer, standing.

This answer was a shout of laughter ; after which the young
girl shoved M. Coquelet out of the room.

It was after this, that M. Coquelet discovered that mademoiselle
Pierrette came home late, — that she made disturbance, — and hin-
dered him from sleeping.

In his anger, he had given his notice.

180 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

in.

IT IS SOMETIMES BEST TO RUN AWAY WHEN WE ARE CALLED.

After Coquelet's departure, mademoiselle Pierrette attempted
to finish her nap. But she found it impossible.

She tried to work. But this was still more difficult

"Accursed Coquelet!" cried she, stamping with her foot "It
is because of him that I cannot sleep. I was sleeping so sweetly,
too, when he came in. Bat what to do t Good heaven ! what
to do?

" To propose that I should be his wife ! I — Pierrette ! One
would think he never looked in his glass, the old wolf ! It is well
he got away — for if I had him here, I would make him pay for
his folly.

"And why should I not do it still ? He cannot be far off." On
the instant, she rushed from the chamber, and at the top of her
voice cried out : " Monsieur Coquelet ! Monsieur Coquelet !'

i»

He had not yet reached the foot of the stairs. He looked up.
" Who calls me t"

"It is I— Pierrette."

Coquelet's heart swelled with joy.

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 181

" She calls me," thought he ; " she begins to see how flattering
and agreeable a proposal I hare made to her. Quick, quick — let
us ascend."

So he climbed up the stairs with great haste.

He was all out of breath when he found himself in the pres-
ence of Pierrette. Nevertheless, he looked smilingly at her.

"Didst thou call me, my beauty V9 said he, in a softened
tone.

" Yes," said Pierrette, looking somewhat embarrassed.

" What dost thou wish t"

Pierrette seemed still more embarrassed.

"Poor little thing" said Coquelet to himself, "she does not
like to acknowledge that she is willing to become my wife. I
must encourage hen

" Speak, my child, — speak without fear. As we are now situ-
ated, you may do this."

"I wish to say to you that — "

" Let us hear it."

" Do you really wish me to say it V

"I beg you to do so, cruel girl. Delay not my happiness
another minute."

382 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" Well," cried Pierrette, suddenly changing her tone, " I wish to
say to you, that you were a brute to wake me up so early, and
that I mean to be revenged."

At the same instant she ran up to Co que let, and gave him such
a pinch as made him roar lustily.

Pierrette ran off laughing, and barricaded herself in her own
room.

Coquelet then went out, to enter a complaint in the office of
the king's attorney.

IV.

PULL THE BOBBIN, AND THE LATCH WILL FLY UP.

Franz heard all this noise, and came out of his attic. He had
distinguished the voices of Pierrette and of Coquelet, who ap-
peared to be quarrelling.

He wished to learn the cause of this quarrel.

M. Coquelet was in a transport of rage, and would make him
no reply. Mademoiselle Pierrette had fled.

What could he do ?

There was but one way left — to knock at the door of mad-
emoiselle Pierrette. But Franz was so bashful.

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 183

At last he decided to do so. As he did so, he blushed — he
turned pale — and his heart beat violently.

He gave a tap so gentle, that mademoiselle Pierrette could but
just hear it We know not how it happened — but he was not
obliged, like M. Coquelet, to knock a second time. A soft voice
immediately bade him enter.

So he went in.

And now, that we have introduced the several persons in this
domestic drama, — have given some idea of their characters, their
position, and their habits, — the reader must be extremely curious
to know the important events which are to follow. For this
reason, we pass on to a different story.

AUTRE MARGUERITINE.

THE CLOVER.

" Find a four-leaved clover," said old Martha to me, a it is a
talisman that brings good fortune/'

So I rose early, and went to look for the four-leaved clover.

I crossed the meadow in every direction, but I could not find
my talisman. Does it make one rich ? Does it make one love T
Does it preserve us from sickness 1

*

Ah ! how beautiful is the clover-field ! How gracefully these
grassy festoons bend under the breeze !

The lark has made his nest in the centre of the clover-tufts;
the little lady-bugs swing upon the leaves ; and the butterfly flits
around the flowers.

The partridge and the quail bring hither their young broods ;
and here they run, and play, and chase one another through the
thick grass.

THE CLOVER. 185

Happy little birds, bugs, and butterflies ! how the hospitable
clover receives and protects the feeble and the timid. Even the
indolent and effeminate hare comes here to sleep, during the heat
of the day, under thy fresh and juicy leaves.

I perceive now, why old Martha told me to gather the four-
leaved clover.

To be humble and charitable, — to be kind to the poor and the
oppressed, — does not this bring good fortune 1

Show me, then, this precious talisman, the four-leaved clover —
for long have I been looking for it Ah ! thanks to God and my
patron saint, here it is : I have found it at last

A LESSON IN BOTANICAL PHILOSOPHY.

L

A PROFOUND MAXIM.

"Every flower is susceptible of cultivation," said the learned
doctor Cucumber to his pupil, the little marquis of Florizelles, as
they walked one day in the country, in order to contemplate the
sublime scenery of nature.

They believed very much in nature in the eighteenth century.

" Observe," continued Cucumber, " this pink, which I gathered
this morning, from a bed in the garden of the castle. The pink
was, at first, a small single flower, of no importance — not deserv-
ing the attention of a learned doctor like myself. Now, I put it
in my buttonhole ; I wear it as an ornament ; my nose can smell
it without loss of its dignity. Do you know how this is V9

" Indeed, I do not," said Florizelles.

I

\

i

\

A LESSON IN BOTANICAL PHILOSOPHY. 187

" Some skilful gardener took this flower, and cultivated it with
care, until it became a flower of good society — a bright, agreea-
ble flower, having twenty different aspects and appearances ; and
all this is due to education. Will monsieur marquis please give a
glance at this thistle V

u 'Tis done/' said the marquis.

u What do you think of this plant T

" Horrid:'

u Well, I have no doubt that, with time and patience, this might
be brought to bear flowers more beautiful and fragrant than the
rose. Do not forget this maxim," added the tutor : " Every flower
is susceptible of cultivation."

At this moment the dinner-bell rung. Doctor Cucumber felt
that he had sufficiently instructed his pupil in the beauties of na-
ture ; and they, therefore, turned their steps to the castle.

II.

THE USE MADE OP THIS MAXIM BY THE LITTLE MARQUIS OP

FL0R1ZELLES.

Not long after this, Florizelles discovered that Toinette, the
gardener's niece, notwithstanding her coarse petticoat, her calico
hood, and her wooden shoes, was prettier than any of the young
misses of the neighborhood, who came to visit his noble mother.

188 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

He used to follow Toinette into the fields; and when she
came to see her uncle, he would watch his chance to speak to her
at the turn in the great alley.

One day he went so far as to say to her : " I love you."

"And I, you."

This was Toinette's answer. As they had been, so to speak,
brought up together ; as Toinette's mother had nursed Florizelles ;
as they had played together in the good woman's lap ; as, indeed,
they had from childhood seldom been separated; they could
scarcely feel much embarrassment in telling one another of their
love.

Doctor Cucumber was too learned a man to notice, at once,
this growing attachment ; and when he did discover it, he gave no
heed to it

" After all," said he, " there is no great harm in that. At their
age it cannot go far ; or if it should — what matter 1 At all pe-
riods, there have been Toinettes for Florizelles.

" Should he be about to do some foolish thing, I shall have but
to deal out one or two of my grand maxims, in order to prevent
him."

Upon this he slept — pleased that his pupil was playing truant,
and thus left him to enjoy, undisturbed, his accustomed siesta.

About this time, the mother of Florizelles died; and he in-
formed his tutor that, as he was of age, and had entered on his
estate, he meant to go to Paris, and to take Toinette with him.

I

A LESSON IN BOTANICAL PHILOSOPHY. 189

" Take Toinette !" Cucumber could scarce trust his ears.

" But, monsieur le marquis," said the doctor, " you will find a
plenty of pretty women in Paris."

" I prefer Toinette.

" A peasant girl !'

" Prettier than a queen."

"A girl who knows nothing."

M

" I will educate her.

Cucumber shrugged his shoulders.

"Remember," added the marquis, "what you said to me the
other day :

" ' Every flower is susceptible of cultivation/ "

IIL

TOINETTE.

Florizelles was not mistaken in regard to Toinette. At the
end of three months she was completely formed.

She sung ravishingly all the airs in Devin de Village.

190 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

She drew admirable likenesses of spaniels, in crayon.

She wrote charming little billets.

All the motions of her head and her person, were marked with
an interesting languor.

Whenever the marquis gave an entertainment, the visiters
would gather round, to see Toinette dance a minuet, or the Furs-
temberg.

You should have seen her at this time — with her little patches,
her small and delicate slippers, her pretty embossed galoches, her
farthingales, her powder, and her fan ! Watteau was extremely
anxious to take her portrait

Florizelles was considered a happy fellow.

IV.

FLORIZELLES.

Florizelles began to feel the miseries of ennui.

Not that Toinette, with all this beauty, was deficient in talent
On the contrary, she was no less intelligent than graceful.

Her conversation was animated, keen, and sparkling. The
pertinence of her repartees, and the happy turn of her expres-
sions, were admired by all.

A LESSON IN BOTANICAL PHILOSOPHY. 191

The flower had folly repaid the care of the gardener ; but still
the gardener was not satisfied.

He remembered with regret, the simple flower which he had
gathered in the fields.

V.

j THE EVILS OP EDUCATION.

i

Beauty leads to coquetry. Education leads to pride.

Pride is the brother of disdain.

A woman who knows that she is handsome, and that she pos-
sesses talent, has discovered it by education.

As soon as she knows it, it is impossible that she should refrain
from admiring herself, and despising others.

There is nothing harder to bear, than a disdainful woman.

Disdain was Toinette's failing.

192 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

VI.

DOCTOR CUCUMBER SHOWS, STILL MORE VIVIDLY, THE TRUTH

OF WHAT WE HAVE JUST STATED.

Florizelles was walking in his garden, as at the beginning of
this narrative.

He was conversing with his former tutor, whom he had invited
to dinner.

They spoke of Toinette.

When near the end of the conversation, doctor Cucumber
gathered a pink.

"Here," said he, "is the flower which led me to utter the
maxim that has done you such harm. Of all flowers, it is the one
most susceptible of cultivation. Do you know what the wisdom
of mankind has made it 1

" The symbol of disdain/'

VII.

A DIFFERENT VERSION.

Some, on account of the fruit fulness and variety of its flowers,
regard the pink as the flower of the poet. Such must perceive

A LESSON IN BOTANICAL PHILOSOPHY. 193

that they only change the name. The thing remains the same.
To despise the rest of the world, and to live in constant admira-
tion of themselves, as belonging to a race superior to all other
mortals, — is not this the common fault of poets ! And is it not
this fault that we call disdain 1

You see, then, that we still adhere to our original symbol.

With all these beautiful maxims, which Cucumber advanced, in
order to lead him to wisdom, Florizelles could not forget the de-
sertion of Toinette. " The ignorant peasant-girl would have
remained constant," thought he : " the woman of the world has
betrayed me, — and it is my fault. Ah! if I were to begin
again — "

He repeated this phrase till the age of forty, when he married.

VIII.

NOT TO END WITH A SYMBOL.

We should mention that Toinette left the marquis Florizelles
for a duke, — and the duke, for a prince.

She thought herself superior to everybody.

These perpetual changes did not impair her health or good for-
tune. She lived to the age of ninety.

S3

194 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

It may be well to remark here, that all the remarkable women
of the eighteenth century, lived to a very advanced age, without
any kind of infirmity.

IX.

TO THE READER.

You must have discovered, kind reader, that it is the life of the
Pink herself, which we have just given, under the assumed name
of Toinette.

AUTRE GHAZEL,

THE ALOES.

Young Ahmed-ben-Hassan, a student of Aleppo, took a walk
into the country.

The heat being excessive, he sat down under an eglantine
bush.

It was the middle of May. The fresh-opened flowers spread
around a delightful odor. Ahmed-ben-Hassan enjoyed equally
the fragrance and the shade.

Having a grateful heart and a warm imagination, he conceived
the idea of addressing a ghazel to the eglantine.

" The eglantine grows by the wayside. One has but to reach
forth his hand, and pluck its flowers.

" The eglantine pleases everybody by its simple beauty. It has
a charm for the eye and for the heart

196 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"The eglantine requires no cultivation. The more it retains
its simplicity, the more pleasing is it

" So does the man of genius grow up among the people. Every
one understands, every one loves him. He is all the more pow-
erful, that he owes nothing to education, but depends wholly on
himself."

Having composed this ghazel, the poet recited it aloud, although
there was no one to hear him.

Hardly had he finished, when a gentle and silvery voice
reached his ear. He looked round, and found that it was an
eglantine which spoke to him.

"Ahmed-ben-Hassan," said she, after having complimented him
highly, "just observe, below you, near the base of the rock, that
Aloes, with its thorny branches.

" It has taken it almost a century, to force its roots in
among the hard rocks. Puny, stunted, solitary, and with a
serpent at its feet, it has endured the fierce sun, and the fiercer
simoom.

" The serpent is — misery.

" But soon a magnificent flower will expand on the summit of
that thorny stem, in the presence of which all other flowers will
grow dim.

" The serpent will then disappear.

"And when that flower shall have faded, and its stem shall

THE ALOES. 197

have fallen to the ground, it will still, if carefully gathered, form a
perfume that shall endure forever.

"It is not the Eglantine, Ahmed-ben-Hassan, but the Aloes,
which is the flower of genius."

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY.

[OONTOTUSD AMD ENDED.]

V.

IF WE ARE BETRAYED, THE FAULT IS OUR OWN.

We paused at that most important moment in our story, when
Franz had entered the chamber of mademoiselle Pierrette.

We showed him to you, covered with blushes, and with his
heart throbbing. Nor was this the first time that the same thing
had happened to him.

Often, when mademoiselle Pierrette returned from her noctur-
nal excursions, and saw the lonely lamp of Franz still burning,
she would go and light her candle in his room.

Franz, too, if he happened to hear her repeating the strains of
some little song, would leave his work and visit her chamber.

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 199

To his praise be it said, no other motive could have induced
him to quit his task.

Mademoiselle Pierrette had not been displeased by these visits ;
and she knew, by his mode of knocking, that Franz was at the
door.

She took care to put the ball-dress away, before the young man
came in.

His presence did not immediately allay the anger which Co-
quelet's proposal had excited. Franz found her in that state of
nervous agitation, which strong emotions are so apt to produce in
woman.

He inquired into the cause.

" That monster, Coquelet," said she, " do you know what prop-
osition he just now made to me V

" What was it V

" To marry him/'

At these words Franz turned pale. Almost stammering, he
replied :

"And you — have you answered him tw

"My answer was — a pinch, — which he will not very soon for-
get. I become his wife ! Never !"

Mademoiselle Pierrette pronounced these words in an attitude

200 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

decidedly Cornelia-like. Franz felt as if a heavy load had been
lifted from his shoulders. His cheeks resumed their natural color.
He seized Pierrette's hand.

" Thanks !" said he, "oh, thanks!"

Our hero did not intend to make this exclamation. But it was
made. Franz had betrayed himself.

It will, however, render unnecessary all those preparatory, pre-
cautionary, and circuitous statements, which we must have used
to inform you, that Franz was in love with Pierrette.

I will wager, however, that you had guessed as much.

VI.

THE FALSEHOODS OF MADEMOISELLE PIERRETTE.

How is it possible, the reader will perhaps ask, that a sedate,
regular, well-behaved, industrious, virtuous, and candid young
man, like M. Franz, — a sort of Grandison, as he might be called,
— could feel any attachment for a young girl, so dissipated, frivo-
lous, light-headed — perhaps coquettish, too — as was mademoi-
selle Pierrette ?

To this we shall reply by two axioms, which, in consideration
of the dignity of the subject, we shall not translate :

Similia, similibus ; contraria, contrariis.

f

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 201

The aged annuitant is attracted by the aged porter ; Coquelet
by Jabulot : similia, similibus.

The well-behaved Franz has a liking for the giddy Pierrette :
contraria, contrariis.

This answer might suffice. But we have, in reserve, one better
still.

Franz did not know the person in whom he was so much in-
terested.

Did mademoiselle Pierrette return late at night, and sometimes,
not at all 1 It was her work that crowded her, and detained her
at the workshop..

Did she sometimes sing 1 It was to gain a momentary relief
from the vexations of her life.

Did she spend her afternoons in sleep ? It was because, ex-
hausted by the protracted toils of the night, she could not resist
the inclination.

Such were the explanations which Pierrette made to Franz.
It is well known that no one disbelieves the woman whom he
loves.

M

202 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

VII.

ONE THING SETTLED.

Once for all, then, the fact is established, that Franz avowed
his love for Pierrette, on the day when he went into her chamber,
after the departure of M. Coquelet.

It is just as well established, that mademoiselle Pierrette re-
ceived this declaration with vastly greater pleasure, than she did
that of the old annuitant.

Imagine, if you can, the happiness of Franz — for no mortal
pen can adequately describe it.

VIII.

WE RETURN TO MONSIEUR COQUELET.

The king's attorney refused to receive his complaint.

See Coquelet now more enraged than ever, because compelled
to abandon all hope of vengeance.

While on his way to the tribunal, he fancied he saw Pierrette
sitting at the bar of the correctional police. He heard the judge
sentence her to six months' imprisonment, and to pay a fine of a
thousand francs.

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 203

Then Coquelet rose and advanced, looking steadily at the
judges and at the auditory. There was perfect silence while he
announced, that if Pierrette would consent to marry him, he
would instantly withdraw the complaint

Then Pierrette, shedding tears, fell and embraced his knees.
The public officer made a speech to him, in praise of his gener-
osity ; while the audience loudly applauded him, in spite of the
endeavors of the president, who in vain commanded silence — as
all public tokens of approbation or disapproval are by law for-
bidden.

How different was his return !

In the place of these charming illusions, was reality — bitter
reality.

Coquelet found himself under the necessity of removing: he
must leave the spot where he had passed so many tranquil and
happy years, — and where his canaries had become so well accli-
mated.

He reckoned up the expenses, necessary and extraordinary,
which a removal always involves.

He had lost the last chance of compelling Pierrette to become
his wife.

Figure to yourself M. Coquelet's despair. Nothing could
equal it

204 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

IX.

A FEW WORDS CONCERNING JABULOT.

I am wrong.

Jabulot's despair was just about equal to that of Coquelet

You must know, that the house to which Jabulot had been
porter for forty years, — that house, which he seemed to consider
as his own— with which he was identified, and of which he was
the soul — had now changed its proprietor.

The new owner had a creature of his own to provide for, to
whom he intrusted the office of Jabulot.

The unfortunate man had just received orders to quit his post
within twenty-four hours. At the end of that time, he must be
conducted from post to post, till past the frontier of his small
domain.

At any other time, Coquelet would have sympathized with Jab-
ulot in his grief, — but misfortune made him selfish.

When the porter related to him his calamity, he coldly replied :
" How can I help it T

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 205

X.

AN ANNUITANT'S REVENGE.

Franz watched for M. Coquelet's return :

Because the annuitant, as he passed, had often said to him,
u You work too hard ; you will injure your health :"

Because, whenever he spoke to him, he used to say, " My dear
young friend :"

Because he had occasionally given him advice, the fruit, as he
said, of his own long experience.

For these reasons, Franz looked upon him as a second father.
It is thus that sensitive natures become the dupes of those, who
are so base as to take advantage of their sensibility.

He awaited the return of this second father, that he might im-
part to him his happiness; that he might ask him to intercede
with Pierrette's parents, for a consent to the marriage ; and also,
that he might beg his own blessing on their union.

Goquelet had hardly entered, when Franz came and threw
himself into his arms.

" Friend and guide of my youth," he said, " be the first to
know of my happiness. She loves me."

206 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"She! Who!"

" Pierrette."

" Pierrette !"

"The same; — the amiable, good, well-behaved, virtuous, and
incomparable Pierrette. I can scarce believe my own good for-
tune."

A sardonic smile played round the mouth of Coquelet

"Has she told you," said he, at length, "that she loves
you!"

" Yes, with her own lips."

" And do you believe it V

"What! doubt Pierrette? It were blasphemous. Never!
never !"

Coquelet assumed an air of dignity.

" My young friend, listen to me, and trust the counsels of expe-
rienced age. Pierrette is not what you suppose her to be. She
is a shameless girl, and she is deceiving you."

" Nay, it is you who deceive me. Leave off this cruel jesting,
I entreat you."

" I must open your eyes, my young friend. It is my bounden
duty. Give me your attention."

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 207

He then went into particulars respecting Pierrette. It was a
gratification to the old man to explain to him her conduct, her
habits, and the cause of her nightly expeditions. Franz was
overwhelmed by the dreadful discovery.

" The proof/' said he, at length, in a faint and smothered voice :
u give me the proof/'

" Would you have the proof ?"

« Yes."

" Very well ! Go this night to the opera-ball."

XL

IT IS ALL M. MUSARD'S FAULT.

Franz waited impatiently for midnight He then set out for
the opera, and Mephistopheles-Coquelet followed.

Coquelet had never been at the opera, and he rather dreaded
entering ; but revenge, so dear to gods and annuitants, gave him
courage.

When within the ball-room, he was compelled to undergo sev-
eral annoyances.

A clown asked him where he bought his false nose, though Co-
quelet had, in fact, nothing false upon his person.

208 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

A boatman wished to know how much his disguise had cost
him at Babin's — when, in fact, Coquelet wore his own light,
green coat — the very coat which he was accustomed to wear on
great occasions.

One pulled him by the sleeve, and another caught hold of his
wig. He began to wish that he had not risked himself among
such a set of demons.

Suddenly Franz, whose eager interest carried him into every
group, cried out

The crowd opened, as by magic, to make way for the police
and municipal guard, who had charge of a little woman, in the
costume of a clown.

" I am innocent," said she to the guard. " Why does the or-
chestra play quadrilles, which turn one's head 1 It is all the fault
of M. Musard."

In this woman Franz recognised Pierrette.

XII,

MAYEST THOU BE HAPPY.

All the way from the opera to his lodgings, Franz was silent
and sad.

" Courage ! my young friend, courage !" said Coquelet to him.

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 209

"Trust one who has had a long experience: a woman is not
worth our regret"

Franz made no reply.

Having reached the door of his chamber, Franz threw himself
into M. Coquelet's arms, shedding tears, and exclaiming : " Fare-
well ! my dear friend, farewell !"

" Poor child !" said the old annuitant : " how I pity him ! I am
as unhappy as he is ."

In fact, he was delighted at the success of his stratagem.

Franz went into his room, and seating himself at his desk,
wrote the following letter :

" Thou hast deceived me. I despise thee, yet feel that I love
thee still. Nothing remains, therefore, for me, but to die. I for-
give thee. Mayest thou be happy. Adieu."

Having procured, that day, a quantity of charcoal, he suffocated
himself.

«7

\

210 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

XIII.

THE HISTORY ENDS, AND THE FAIRY'S PART BEGINS.

As Franz dropped his head, already overpowered by the coal-
vapor, his window flew open silently.

A form came in, stepping lightly.

Its figure was that of a female.

She approached the dying man, and touched him with the tip
of her wing.

"Die," said she, "die without pain, my child — my beautiful
Flax, — lovely symbol of candor and purity. A fatal accident
threw thee in the way of the Marvel of Peru, and thou hast be-
come enamored of her. Poor youth ! thou wast in love with a
dissipated coquette. How severely art thou punished for aban-
doning thy natal clime, the country of the Flower Fairy, and my
own pleasant kingdom !"

The Flower Fairy imprinted a kiss on Franz's brow, who
seemed as though he had merely fallen asleep.

"As to Coquelet," she went on to say, "and Pierrette, it is
my will that they remain a while longer upon earth. They must
be punished. The annuitant will never regain his old form — the
Holly, — nor the opera-ball dancer, that of the Marvel of Peru,

-c

■

CONTRAST AND AFFINITY. 211

tiD they shall have atoned, — the former for his selfishness, and the
latter for her misconduct

" On the morrow, at dawn, thou wilt find thyself in my parterre.
Meanwhile, I must see to the Ivy, this honest Jabulot"

Having given Franz a touch with her wand, she disappeared.

XIV.

EXPLANATION.

Jabulot had died of surprise and grief, on the threshold of his
lodge, just as he was leaving it

XV.

TEN YEARS LATER.

Coquelet always regretted his old lodgings, and was vexed that
he had not been able to marry Pierrette. For amusement, he
dabbled in the Spanish funds, till his property was reduced to
eight hundred a year. He found himself under the necessity of
curtailing his expenses, and of giving up his canaries.

Pierrette became a charwoman.

MARINE.

THE ACACIA AND THE WAVE

There is, not far from the seaside, a thicket of acacias, where
I plucked, this morning, a branch in blossom.

When one has gathered a flower, it is pleasant to go to the
shore.

You walk along the beach, and your eye rests alternately on
the waves and on the flower.

The wave now seems to break more gently at your feet, and
even to linger there, as if it were asking for something.

It is your flower which it wishes.

" Roll back, wild billow," you say to it " I did not pluck my
handsome acacia-branch for thee.

"After pressing it, for an instant, to thy bitter lips, thou wouldst
drag it into thy deep abyss."

THE ACACIA AND THE WAVE. 213

But the wave is not discouraged. See how it scatters its white
foam at your feet, — how it swells and leaps towards you. One
might think that it means to snatch the flower from your hand.

You laugh at the wave. You deride its efforts. You shake
before it your branch, as though you said : " Thou shalt not
have it !"

But while you are congratulating yourself on your victory, the
irresistible fascination of the ingulfing waters acts on you with-
out your knowing it The wave is successful In fact, the
branch has slipped from your hand. You see it as it rises and
falls, floats and whirls around, till at length it sinks in the sea.

You regret it, but it is too late.

What is the cause of this secret magnetism, whose influence
every one has felt t Why is it always to the wildest wave that
we delight to cast our flower t

Ask me the name of her to whom you have thrown your heart,
and I will reply.

THE HEMLOCK.

I.

INTRODUCTION.

The subject whose revolt and departure the Flower Fairy least
regretted, was the Hemlock.

Of what use to her, indeed, was that severe and solitary plant,
which was always coiled up in soma dark corner, ominous and
frowning, and hiding herself, as if meditating some crime 1

After she came upon earth, the fairy ceased to watch her
movements. In this she was entirely wrong, as will appear from
the following statements.

II.

ATHENS.

Enter this low house near the harbor. No garland adorns the
door. There is no household god by its threshold, to protect it

-J

1

THE HEMLOCK. 215

Xanthis, a woman from Thrace, occupies this house.

She has the name of being engaged in practices, which bring
the anger of the gods on those who believe in them, — and yet
the magistrates suffer it.

Soon as night, daughter of Erebus, begins to spread her gloomy
veil over the earth, dark forms may be seen to glide stealthily into
her house.

There she sells those philters and poisons, which bring helpless
innocence under the power of the wealthy libertine, and which
set free the heir from the old man, whose life seems so long to the
impatient expectant

Enter her abode at midnight, and you will find her bruising her
drugs. She will then summon before you the gods of darkness ;
she will reveal to you the future, and disclose the secrets of life
and death.

III.

ROME.

Here are dead bodies. Their countenances still retain the
contortions of their last agonies. The mouth awry, the fingers
contracted, and the skin covered with livid spots, show that they
died a dreadful death.

A freedman comes forward, and directs that the corpses be

216 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

thrown into the Tiber. To-morrow the river will cast them back
on its banks, and the people, as they behold them, will say : " Lo-
custa has again been at work with her poisons/'

IV.

PARIS.

A crowd is gathering on the quays, and the populace are hur-
rying to the Place de Greve. The scaffold was erected this
morning.

Who is to die I

See, — there comes the cart, surrounded by guards. The peo-
ple shout — they yell — they grind their teeth. Now they throw
stones, or if stones be wanting, mud, at the victim.

And yet this victim is a woman.

Her features are regular and noble. Her long tresses flow over
her bare shoulders ; and a look of disdain is seen in her face, as
she turns her eyes upon the mob.

From time to time a priest hands her a crucifix, which she
kisses.

She is now at the foot of the scaffold.

With a tottering step she ascends the stair. She turns pale,
and her lips close with a convulsive tremor. She is afraid !

THE HEMLOCK. 217

Four strong attendants take her in their arms. She is now on
the scaffold. They show her to the people, and the people
applaud.

What crime has this woman committed, that at a moment like
this, she excites no compassion X

They have secured her to the block, and the executioner is
ready with his axe. Her head is off, before the populace could
repeat their cry : " Death, death to Brinvilliers !"

V.

THE SAME SOUL IN THREE DIFFERENT WOMEN.

Xanthis the Thracian, Locusta the Roman, and Brinvilliers the
Parisian, are one and the same person. It was the Hemlock that
successively animated the three.

The negligence of the Flower Fairy allowed them repeatedly
to exercise their dreadful vocation. Since the death of Brinvil-
liers, the Hemlock has entered other bodies.

Occasionally we witness the appearance of these poisoners,
showing clearly that the Hemlock is yet upon earth.

We humbly petition the Flower Fairy to recall her to her do-
minions, and ever after to place her under the supervision of the
high-police.

E Li £ G I JE.

THE WEEPING WILLOW.

V

I am the Weeping Willow. Come under my shade, all ye who
are afflicted. Beneath my foliage I conceal the lovers' muse.
Her looks are gentle, and her flaxen hair, as it descends upon her
brow, veils a tearful eye.

Soft is the moss which spreads about my feet, and cooling the
breeze that sweeps under my boughs. Come, — you will find her
whom you seek — and who, though you know her not, has the
power to console you.

To her loving and virgin breast she presses all who weep. Her
lips are applied only to wounds, — which, with a single kiss, she
heals.

She is that chain which connects man's end with his beginning.

Over youthful passions she scatters the flowers of spring ; and
when the day of disenchantment has arrived, she makes it less
bitter, by placing before our sight the pleasing image of remem-
brance.

THE WEEPING WILLOW. 219

She is the consoler of those who wish for death. With what
tender words she soothes them! "Every wave has," says she,
" its foam. In every cup, the dregs are bitter. To love, even, is
it not to suffer V9

Thus, in their misery, does she lull them to repose.

What woman is this? She is your most faithful friend — your
most devoted sister. Melancholy is her sacred name.

She has a sister, called Meditation. Her abode is in the deep
solitudes of the forest. Have you never met with her ?

She comes hither often; and with the tips of my drooping
branches, I love to caress her pallid brow.

Come, come to the weeping willow's shade. Here, as you sit
by the water-side, and listen to the winds that sigh among the
trees, you will find the pensive, the smiling sisters, Melancholy
and Meditation.

THE FASHIONS OF FLOWERS.

It is time to give oar readers a respite ; and for that purpose,
we introduce a short digression.

Every epoch has had its favorite flowers. If we would form a
correct opinion of the ideas, manners, and habits of a nation, we
have only to look at its bouquets.

We pride ourselves on being the first to advance the following
aphorism :

Flowers are the expression of society.

We shall say nothing in regard to the flowers of Greece and
Rome. Paganism surrounded flowers with a sort of religious
dread. Every calyx seemed the tomb of some nymph or demi-
god. One was afraid lest, while plucking a flower, he should give
pain to Daphne, or wring groans of distress from Adonis.

THE FASHIONS OF FLOWERS. 221

We shall say nothing of those changes in the fashions of
flowers, which may have taken place in England, in Germany, in
Italy, or Spain. This would lead us too far. France will suffice.
Indeed, has not France always taken the lead in whatever relates
to the concerns of fashion ?

We will begin with the middle ages.

With the exception of the lily and mandrake, the middle ages
cared little for flowers. As if dissatisfied with those which nature
had created, they invented new and imaginary forms. With
these impossible flowers, they adorned the frontispieces of missals,
and the windows of cathedrals. This was the fantastic era of
animals as well as plants; — the era when the salamander danced
in the fire, and when man believed in magical herbs, that could
impart eternal youth. The flowers of the middle ages were all
of stone ; and it was their delight to make them bloom in ogees,
rosettes, and arabesques.

At that time, there was a partiality for some of the severer
flowers. Tares, thistles, nettles, often figure in the foreground of
their pictures. Witness, too, the wreath which Albert Durer
placed on the head of his angel. It is, perhaps, the only angel of
that epoch, which is adorned with flowers, — and it is the repre-
sentative of melancholy.

The only flowers received without restriction, were the lily and
the mandrake. The era of sincere faith and of fabulous legends,
was expressed by this twofold symbol

Then came the revival of letters.

Who would suppose it? The revival — the epoch of awaken-

222 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

ing beauty —neglected flowers. It seems, like the middle ages,
to have loved them only in sculpture. As the flowers of the mid-
dle ages were of stone, those of the revival were metallic.

There was, in the times of the revival, one illustrious horticul-
turist, Benvenuto Cellini, who was famous for his flowers of gold,
of silver, and of bronze.

Ronsard was an admirer of flowers, and was always singing
their praises; but he could never impart that taste to his age.
For a moment, indeed, it seemed as though the flowers were
about to prevail over the universal indifference, and to establish a
permanent dominion in France, when all the poets combined to
twine Julia's far-famed garland. But the thirteenth Louis died,
and Louis XIV. ascended the throne.

The grand reign cared even less for flowers, than the mediaeval
times and the revival. What place, indeed, was there for flowers
in all those splendid residences at Versailles, Saint Cloud, and
Marly? Scarcely could they find room for a petty flower-bed,
amid the imposing grandeurs of the mighty whole ! What, then,
could you expect T The grand king had no taste for odors ; and
the grand age had nothing to do, but to walk in the steps of its
grand king.

The great Conde was, however, an exception. He had the
courage to cultivate pinks; and even wore them at his button-
hole, in the presence of Louis XIV. The conqueror of Rocroy
performed, perhaps, no more daring exploit, in the whole course
of his splendid military career.

Lenotre and Laquintinie, for the gratification of promenaders,
trimmed the box and the yew into every possible shape ; but their

THE FASHIONS OF FLOWERS. 223

points, squares, circles, lozenges, triangles, and trapeziums, with
angles acute, obtuse, and re-entering, could never supply the place
of flowers.

Another circumstance, which operated to the prejudice of
flowers, quite as much as the aversion of Louis XIV., was the now
acknowledged fact, that the period of his reign was altogether the
most medicinal of any known to our annals. Turenne, Conde,
Vauban, C a tin at, Bossuet, Fenelon, Racine, Moliere, Boileau, Vil-
lars, Saint Simon, Louvois, Colbert, — all drugged themselves to
an astonishing extent Next to the confessor, the apothecary be-
came the most important personage in the community.

The flowers then in repute, were the hyosciamus, the marsh-
mallow, the camomile, the maiden-hair, the digitalis, and other
big wigs of the pharmaceutic Flora. If flowers were purchased,
it was in little packages at the druggist's. The poor things
seemed to be hopelessly given over to diet-drinks.

The short duration of the regency, prevented it from exerting
any very marked influence upon the prospects of flowers. Yet it
saw the beginnings of some collections of tulips. Several old
officers, who had made campaigns in Holland, were not afraid to
display, under the milder nephew, that taste which, during the
previous reign, they had carefully concealed; — a taste derived
from a people, whose very name would put the great king into a
violent passion. Thus began the art, the science, the business, or
whatever you please to call it, of the florist.

We come to the eighteenth century. Be in no haste with your
bravos. It is not so much the age of flowers as you seem to imagine.

Nothing that is natural suited the eighteenth century. The

224 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

era of patches and paint, of hair-powder and farthingales, could
never adapt itself to the simplicity of flowers. Watteau painted
only avenues and thickets. His shepherds and shepherdesses are
covered with ribands, and so are their dogs, their crooks, and
their sheep. But a flower throughout the whole — even the sim-
plest daisy— you will seek in vain.

Towards the close of the century, the world began to be tired
of shepherds and shepherdesses, of avenues and lambs. It ceased
to be pastoral, and became truly rural. From gallantry «it passed
to feeling. They began to discover that there were flowers
which perfumed the meadow, the hedge, and the footpath; and
the eighteenth century in a mass exclaimed, with Rousseau, " Une
pervenche !"*

The existence of periwinkles then first became known to the
people of the eighteenth century.

The French revolution manifested the greatest consideration
for flowers. It was the wish of Saint-Just, that the flower-festival
should annually be celebrated with the utmost pomp. On the day
of the festival of the Supreme Being, all the deputies of the Con-
vention, with Robespierre at their head, walked with nosegays at
their button-holes.

During the consulate and the empire, flowers continued to be
popular. The mignionette was, for a long time, the favorite, and
then came the hortensia. I never see one of these large balls, so
ungraceful, yet looking so self-satisfied, that it does not remind me
of the wife of some old officer of the republic, in her Sunday at-
tire, after her husband had been made a general or marshal
i— ^— — — — ^— — ^— ^ I.. i -— ^^— — — » — — ^^^»~^^— ~~

* Une pervenche, — a periwinkle.

THE FASHIONS OF FLOWERS. 225

I did not name the violet with the mignionette and hortensia,
as the political flowers must not appear in our picture; but I
should have mentioned the sensitive plant. The beauties of the
empire were fond of being compared with it.

The restoration pronounced in favor of the eglantine. From
eighteen hundred and twenty to eighteen hundred and twenty-five,
the anemone seems to have borne sway. Thence to eighteen
hundred and thirty, it was the tuberose. Now the tuberose is en-
tirely forsaken, and is driven to find refuge in pomatums.

What shall I say of the present fashion in flowers ? Never
were they more cherished ; never was it more difficult to name the
various dynasties which succeed each other in the empire of Flora.

I would have preferred a different expression, — but let some
one give me a better.

At the present time, every one has some particular flower,
whose pretensions he is urging.

Georges Sand pleads for the rhododendron.

Alphonse Karr puts forward the forget-me-not

De Balzac has invented the coltsfoot.

Victor Hugo pronounces, as often as he has opportunity, in fa-
vor of the asphodel.

Eugene Sue goes only for tropical flowers.

Alexander Dumas has not, as yet, made choice of a flower.

29

226 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

For some time, however, the aloes seems to be gaining a place in
his novels.

Auguste Barbier has addressed some charming lines to the
daisy.

Brizeux, by his poem, Marie, has secured many partisans for
the broom-flower.

From all this, come parties, factions, and revolutions among the
flowers — each occupying the throne but a moment, and then
giving place to a rival.

There is confusion among the flowers, as there is among ideas,
opinions, and modes of faith.

Since eighteen hundred and thirty, I have witnessed the succes-
sive reigns of the heath, the clematis, the lilac, the daisy, and a
thousand others, which I could mention.

I did but pass by, and they were already gone.

Observe, now, how the reign of each flower has corresponded
with some particular phase of society, during the sixteen years
last past

You still remember the time when people were sentimental,
after the fashion of the northern poets ; when it was the custom
to read Werther anew, and to admire Novalis. This was the
heath-phase.

The clematis-phase succeeded that, and then came the lilac-
phase. Then rural pictures and scenes of country life, were all

THE FASHIONS OF FLOWERS. 227

the rage, — for Valentine* had just set the fashion. The lilac-
phase and the daisy-phase were of short duration. Now, we are
in the phase

Faith ! I should find it difficult to tell what phase. We are in
the mid-sea of eclecticism. Each one makes his own gods, and
worships them. Each chooses his own flower.

Its power does not last a season, a month, a week, or a day, —
but only an evening, or while the ball continues.

Eight days since, the magnolia was in the height of fashion. I
could not name all the flowers which have reigned during the in-
tervening period.

Yesterday it was the syringa ; to-morrow it will be the liver-
wort. The jessamine, the honeysuckle, the mint, the hawthorn,
the hollyhock, and the gilliflower, have had each its turn.

■

Amid such confusion, how is it possible to recognise our posi-

■

tion, or to discover, by means of the flowers, the situation of our
cotemporaries ?

■ « * ■ ■

The thing is not so difficult as one might think.

Are there not two flowers which have been repeatedly criti-
cised, assailed, sometimes even abandoned, within the last sixteen
years — but which have, nevertheless, secured a position, safe from
all the storms of faction ?

What flowers are these t

* A novel, by Georges Sand.

228 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Look in the garden of the amateur, — among the tresses and
on the dress of woman, — and you will find them the favorites.
They adorn the finest vases. Splendid exhibitions, competitions,
and gold medals, all contribute to their honor.

These flowers are foreigners; and is it not one of the most
marked features of our age, to care for nothing which is not for-
eign! With lords, financiers, common citizens, every class, in-
deed, the height of bon-ton is imitation of that which comes from
abroad. In dress, the fashion is English ; in music, it is Italian ;
in literature, it is German. We must not be astonished, therefore,
to find the flowers of France put, so to speak, under the ban of
the fashionable world. We have already recounted the misfor-
tunes of the rose. The mignionette, the lily, and the pink, those
truly national flowers, are completely forsaken, except that, now
and then, you will see some country fellow venturing upon the
Boulevard, with a rose or a pink at his button-hole. On the
other hand, dandies are seen sporting enormous cactuses. The
ladies sometimes still admit the violet — but it must be the violet
of Parma, — or the jessamine, as it is Spanish,— or the heath, be-
cause it reminds them of Scotland.

Of the two reigning flowers, one has the Dutch embonpoint, —
the other, the stiff, assuming gait, and pallid beauty of England

One of them may be regarded as particularly the living symbol
of our age. It affects every color and shade, and is incredibly
prolific. Yet the plant is sterile from its very abundance, and
monotonous by reason of its variety. And is not this the nine-
teenth century ? — a century fruitful in change and revolution, yet
possessing, in reality, neither expression nor originality.

The flowers of which we speak, may be regarded with a

THE FASHIONS OF FLOWERS. 229

momentary pleasure ; but as they are inodorous, and merely beau-
tiful, one soon grows weary of them.

Need I name these flowers without perfume ! Have you not
already recognised the dahlia and camellia 1

With good reason, then, did we assert, at the commencement
of this digression, — "Flowers are the expression of society."

L

MUSETTE.

THE HAWTHORN

I asked the Hawthorn why it is so dear to me 1

Why do the rose, covered with dewy tear-drops, the lily, bend-
ing on its stem, the radiant tulip, and the brilliant pomegranate,
seem of inferior beauty ?

Why should I prefer Its odor to that of the violet, of the va-
nilla, and of the mint? — and why should the sight of it make my
heart throb T

I have gathered the periwinkle from the sides of the ravine, the
daisy in the meadow, and the thyme on the hillside. Why is it,
white hawthorn, that I have given up periwinkle, daisy, and
thyme, for a single one of thy branches I

And thus the Hawthorn replied :

" Hast thou not, amid the treasures of thy memory, one remem-
brance, before which all others fade ?

THE HAWTHORN. 231

u When thou hast summoned the beloved forms of thy affection,
is there not one whose image is the dearest, whose smile the
sweetest of all ?

" This shade, it is the love of thy youth; — the simple-minded
maiden who waited for thee, at evening, under the chestnuts —
with her hair loosely flowing, her long white dress, her pale face,
and blue eyes, full of feeling. It is she who was to have been
your wife upon earth, and who is now your good angel in
heaven.

" I was near when you said to her, ' I love thee/ I heard you,
and shed upon your first kiss a fragrant dew-drop from my leaves.

" I heard your youthful vows ; I saw your chaste caresses.

" The flower with which she first adorned herself, was mine —
the hawthorn flower. I was hanging directly before her face,
when you plucked me.

" My breath was mingled with yours, and I shed my fragrance
over your innocent discourse.

"When you see me, you recall your earlier years; and you
prefer me to all my sisters, because I am the Hawthorn, the flower
of one's first love."

THE LAST CACIQUE,

I.

THE REBOUNDS*

There was a time, about the middle of the last century, when
the city of Mexico had become very dull. Since the death of
Havradi, the famous toreador, the bull-fights had lost their charm
with the public. It was the rainy season, and they could have no
processions — and adverse winds had prevented the arrival of the
fleet from Europe. The inhabitants clamored against the public
authorities, for not finding means to amuse them. The governor,
Don Alvarez Mendo9a y Palenzuela y Arnam began at length to
fear an insurrection.

Having risen, one day, in worse humor than usual, and feeling
it his duty to attend to affairs of state, he summoned before him
the commander of the forces, Don Gonsalvo de Saboya, who, like
all Spanish officers, claimed descent from Gonsalvo of Cordova.

r

i

1

• >ss

V

THE LAST CACIQUE. 233

The governor had a project in his head. " It is," said he to
himself, "a long time since the city of Mexico has enjoyed an
auto-da-fe. A spectacle like that, would have the double advan-
tage of quieting my complaining subjects, and of securing the
favor of the Inquisition, which complains somewhat of my luke-
warmness."

Fifteen minutes afterwards, Don Gonsalvo de Zaboya made his
appearance.

The governor, who was lying in a hammock, and smoking a
cigarette, received him in the hall of audience. This was his
usual attitude, when he attended to great matters of state.

Don Alvarez Mendcxja y Falenzuela y Arnam, condescended to
begin the conversation.

" I shall not take up your time, Signor don Gonsalvo. I shall
speak at once to the point. The government is very much dis-
satisfied with you."

Don Gonsalvo turned pale.

" How have I incurred its censure ?" said he. " I devote my-
self zealously to all the duties of my command I hung eight
robbers the other day. There are no assassinations now in the
streets, till after eight o'clock in the evening. Those cursed
gipsies, thanks to my vigilance, have been driven from the city.
Can any one ask for more V

" No," replied the governor. " In regard to the robberies and
the assassinations, you are without reproach. But why is it that
you show a negligence so culpable, in the matter of the sun t"

30

234 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" What ! will any one accuse me of having improper relations
with that luminary V9

" You are accused of shutting your eyes on the practices of his
worshippers. The Inquisition is informed that many of the ca-
ciques meet together in the country, to offer worship to the sun,
and to immolate human victims. Your police must be aware of
these sacrilegious acts. At all events, an end must be put to
them. The Inquisition calls for an auto-de-fe. Put yourself in
motion, and bring in, at any cost, a living cacique. Otherwise, I
shall be compelled to abandon you — and process may issue
against you, as a promoter of heresy."

The governor then dismissed the commandant, and rung for
his wig to be brought

II.

FIRST REBOUND.

"It is all over with me," said the commander, when he got
home ; " I am a ruined man. In what way can I get out of this
trouble t Let me reflect : let me consider whether it be possible
for me to secure the cacique wanted, and to keep my place." The
colonel then threw his plumed hat upon a chair — undid his
sword-belt — and began to twist his mustaches. This was his
usual method of reflecting. Now, as he had more mustaches
than intellect, the inference is fair, that he must have twisted
them a long time, before hitting upon the means of extrication,
had not Providence sent Captain Cristobal to his relief.

THE LAST CACIQUE. 235

On seeing him, Don Gonsalvo started.

" Captain !" said he in a violent tone.

" Commander !" replied Cristobal, recoiling a step or two.

" I learn fine things of you !"

" How ! Fine things !"

" The rebellious caciques are sacrificing Christians to the sun,
and you suffer it"

"I knew nothing — "

" Hold your tongue ! Don't make your case worse than it now
is. You knew it very well. The grand inquisitor gave me the
information. In consideration for me, he has promised to be in-
dulgent You may yet keep your head."

" What must I do V9

" You must bring in one of those caciques within twenty-four
hours. They wish to have an auto-da-fe. Go ! and come not
back without a cacique. You understand me."

236 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

III.

SECOND REBOUND.

As soon as he reached his chamber, Captain Cristobal went to
the glass, to see whether his head were yet on his shoulders. He
was aware that it would not do to trifle with the Inquisition. His
mind was so occupied, that he did not perceive the presence of
Sergeant Trifon, who, according to custom, had come to receive
the watchword.

The sergeant gave three hems. At the third, the captain
looked up.

" What do you want V

" The watchword, captain.'9

" Those rascal caciques !"

The captain was talking to himself, but the sergeant took it
seriously.

"A queer watchword that," said he, aside. "I would like to
know what the caciques have done to my captain, that he should
speak of them thus. They are very good people, notwith-
standing."

" Do you know any of the caciques ?" said Cristobal, who had
heard the sergeant's last words.

THE LAST CACIQUE. 237

" I know one" said the sergeant

" His name T

" Tumilco. No longer ago than yesterday, we drank a bottle
of wine together. He is a good fellow, and not at all proud, al-
though he is descended in a straight line from Montezuma."

"Sergeant Trifon," said Cristobal, in a solemn voice, "you
hold intercourse with idolaters. You may, perhaps, be tainted
with this heresy."

"If to drink with a friend, who has come to Mexico to sell
what he had taken by hunting, — if this be the infection of heresy,
I confess that I smell strongly of the fire."

" No laughing, Sergeant Trifon : the affair is more serious than
you seem to consider it For a good while, the Inquisition has
had its eye fixed upon you. They would, perhaps, have seized
and conducted you to the rear of the Alameda, near a certain
wall that you know of — where a dozen bullets would have
done justice on the traitor and apostate, — but I interceded for
you. They consent to spare your life, but it is on one con-
dition."

" What V said Trifon, in alarm.

" The condition is, that this very evening, the cacique Tumilco
shall be placed in the custody of the holy office. Take with you
a corporal and four men, and make sure of him."

"But, captain, consider that yesterday we touched glasses in
our conviviality."

238 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"Be it so, then. The scruple does you honor. Some other
one will take Tumilco. Meanwhile, prepare yourself for an in-
voluntary promenade this evening, to a certain place, mentioned
by me just now."

" I shall obey, captain ; I shall obey/' said Trifon : adding, with
a sigh, " Poor Tumilco !"

The captain ran to convey the pleasing intelligence to the
commander, who lost no time in making it known to the gover-
nor. The governor, on his part, immediately communicated it to
the Grenadilla.

IV.

GRENADILLA.

Next to the toreador, whose death was so much deplored, —
next to the processions, the bull-fights, and the arrival of the fleet
from Spain, the chief delight of the inhabitants of Mexico was
the dancer Grenadilla.

Lords, citizens, soldiers, sailors — everybody knew her — every-
body admired her, and respected her, — and yet she was only a
poor street-dancer — a child of the common-people — a gipsy and
a mountebank. Still, whenever this mountebank gipsy began to
dance the fandango, there was not a duchess of them all, who
had an air more noble, a more flexible form — or whose move-
ments were prouder and more graceful, than were those of the
Grenadilla. Whenever, with tabor or castanets in hand, she
made her appearance, the crowd would gather round her — form-

r

* '

VAS*^'*

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{

THE LA.ST CACIQUE. 239

ing into a ring, and contending for places where they could see
her dance. The manager of the theatre had tried to engage her,
but without success. The Grenadilla would be nothing but the
dancer of the people ; and the people therefore adored her. Wo
to him who should dare to touch but one of the Grenadilla's

i

tresses !

■

The governor often had the Grenadilla at his apartments. He
was a great amateur of the fandango, and enthusiastic in his ad-
miration of the skilful danseuse. It was thought by many, that
he was not altogether insensible to her charms, but that the Gren-
adilla only laughed at him.

This is certain — that the commander having gone, and the
Grenadilla having come, as usual, to dance in the palace-court, a
footman of the governor came to say that he was waiting for her.
When the fandango was over, he informed her that an auto-da-fe
would soon take place in Mexico. This information the Grena-
dilla spread over the city. At evening, the populace came in
crowds, beneath the palace-windows, and made the air resound
with acclamations in honor of the governor.

Don Alvarez Mendoga y Falenzuela y Arnam said to himself,
as he went to bed, that he was undoubtedly born for politics and
for government.

240 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

V.

' THE DESCENDANT OF MONTEZUMA.

While these affairs were in progress, the cacique Tumilco was
quietly dining at an inn, in the small court of San Esteban.

He had got as far as the dessert, and had called for his second
bottle of wine.

Tumilco had good reason for feeling pleased. He had dis-
posed of his whole stock very advantageously ; and the avails of
the sale he had received in good doubloons, bearing the profile of
the Spanish king.

Sergeant Trifon entered, just as the landlord put on Tumilco's
table, the bottle which he had ordered.

" Ah ! sergeant, is it you !" said the cacique.

« It is I."

"You come just in time to help me empty this bottle. Sit
down there."

" Impossible."

" How, impossible ? I say you shall drink !"

THE LAST CACIQUE. 241

"At least, not now. I am not allowed to drink."
" What, then, do you come here for ?"

"Alas!"

« Speak."

" I come to arrest you."

" Signor Trifon is jesting."

" No jest at all. Look there."

He showed the cacique the inn-door, guarded by a detachment
He then made a motion that they should enter.

"Arrest that gentleman !" said he, pointing to the cacique.

Tumilco now perceived that he was engaged in a serious af-
fair, and he turned a little pale. In the course of his life, he had
had some difficulties with the custom-house; and truth compels
us to acknowledge, that at the moment, his conscience did some-
what reproach him on that account The descendant of Monte-
zuma had gone into the contraband trade rather more than
became his noble origin.

But though fortune is adverse, he does not succumb.

" Of what do they accuse me t" said he to the sergeant

" It is an affair of the grand inquisitor : you must have an ex-
planation with him."

31

242 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"The grand inquisitor!" said Tumilco, in great alarm. "It
has, then, nothing to do with smuggling !"

u It has something to do with the sun. It seems that you per-
sist in your determination to adore that luminary — so trouble-
some at this moment, on account of the heat which it produces.
But I know you too well, to believe the calumny. You will have
no difficulty in proving your innocence. Meanwhile, follow me."

" Whither are you leading me ?"

« To the cells of the holy Inquisition."

VI.

THE TRIAL.

Once in the hands of the holy office, Tumilco's case was soon
settled.

For a month he was kept in a cell — shut out from all society
deprived of the light of heaven — and furnished with black
bread and water only.

At the end of this period, he was brought before his judges.

The president began the examination.

" What is your name V9

" Tumilco."

THE LAST CACIQUE. 243

M Your rank !"

"A cacique."

" Repeat to us a Pater and an Ave."

Tumilco knew neither Pater nor Ave, nor any other form of
prayer. He said nothing.

The members of the tribunal exchanged glances with one an-
other, as much as to say — " You see we were not mistaken. He
is a miscreant — a heretic."

The president called for the vote.

Tumilco was condemned to be burned alive on the public
square of Mexico — having on his head a cap adorned with red
devils, and having his body enveloped with a sack.

The guards conducted Tumilco back to his cell ; and on the
day following, he was placed in the chapel.

VII.

THE AUTO-DA-F&

In the mean time, the Mexicans became impatient

On every side was heard the inquiry, " When is the auto-da-fe to
take place ? Will it be to-morrow, or on the day after ? Is it
right or proper to make us wait so long, for the burning of a

244 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

wicked little heretic ? This is showing but small zeal for the in-
terests of religion, and little regard for the feelings of good
catholics."

All these remarks were repeated to the governor, who replied :
" It is nothing to me. The prisoner is in the hands of the Inqui-
sition. They may do what they please."

Meanwhile the governor, more enamored than ever of the
charming Grenadilla, would almost have himself worshipped the
sun, had it been necessary to please her. The Grenadilla, how-
ever, was incapable of requiring such an enormity.

At length, one fine morning, the inhabitants of Mexico saw L.
funeral pyre, which they had so long and impatiently expected, set
up in the public square.

The bells sounded a general peal. The fraternities of the
Penitents, with banners flying, proceeded to the house of the
grand inquisitor, to form his escort to the elevated stand which
had been reserved for him in the public square, and which fronted
the funeral pyre.

Two o'clock was the hour fixed for the execution.

But long before this, — at an early hour of the morning, indeed,
the crowd had filled the place. At the windows, in the trees,
everywhere, one could see nothing but heads.

These multitudes were talking, waving their hands, and calling
impatiently for the victim.

At last, the cortege made its appearance on one side of the

THE LAST CACIQUE. 245

square. First came the clergy; then the Penitents; and last of
all, the victim, surrounded by the soldiers of the Santa Her-
mandad*

At this moment all became still and deeply attentive.

It is proper to state, that the governor had given orders for the
admission of the Grenadilla by the private stairway of the palace.
It was his wish that, concealed behind the window-blind, she
might enjoy the pleasures of the festival, without inconvenience
from the sun, the dust, or the crowd.

Grenadilla was too good a Mexican to refuse an invitation to
the auto-da-fe. She readily accepted, and hastened to the post
which had been reserved for her.

As impartial historians, we are bound to state that the governor
placed himself by her side, and addressed her in a strain of gal-
lantry, to which she gave little heed, — receiving it as one who is
accustomed to such compliments.

" Cruel one !" said the governor to her.

Grenadilla laughed.

" Ungrateful !"

She laughed still more.

" Hyrcanian tigress !"

• The Holy Brotherhood, — a Castilian institution ; sometimes confounded with the In-
quisition. For an account of its nature, see Prescott's Ferdinand and Isabella, Introd.,
§ 1 ; also Part I. Chap. VI.— [Tr.

246 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Still a laugh.

" What would you have T My power and wealth, — I place the
whole at your feet. What more do you demand ? Speak !"

Had that celebrated verse then existed, —

" La fortune importune me paralt sans attrait," &c*

it would have formed, we may suppose, Grenadilla's reply. As it
was, she undoubtedly found something equivalent

Once more the viceroy made the same eloquent efforts — pur-
suing the same order as before. " Cruel ! Ungrateful ! Hyrca-
nian tigress ! What do you demand 1 Speak !"

Grenadilla turned quickly round, and pointing to Tumilco, who
had just ascended the pyre, replied :

"That you should save that man's life."

IX.

THE GOVERNOR EMBARRASSED.

" Oh ! that, my dear, is quite impossible. The Mexicans would
stone me. Besides, this right belongs to the grand inquisitor."

" Then," replied Grenadilla vehemently, " let me go. I have

• <«

I sigh not for fortune — I seek not its cares/'

THE LAST CACIQUE. 247

no desire to witness such a spectacle. Adieu ! You will see me

no more."

She attempted to depart, but the governor detained her.

" Consider that it would cost me my place."

" Consider that my happiness depends on it."

" Why do you feel so lively an interest in this man V

" You shall know when you have rescued him."

" I shall lose my place."

" Or lose me. Make your choice."

Never was governor so perplexed. At last he cried out : " An
idea strikes me. Let them suspend the execution, and bring the
cacique before me."

The order was issued — and it was in time. They were just
setting fire to the pile.

248 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

IX.

A CONVERSION.

The cacique, loaded with chains, was brought before the
governor. As there was no time to lose, he began without cere-
mony.

" Cacique," said he to Tumilco, "why are you so bent on wor-
shipping the sun Y9

Tumilco, in his surprise, looked at him, without replying.

" Will you promise to offer no more human victims, and also to
receive baptism V9

" Of what use, since I am about to die V

" But if you could be pardoned !"

"Ah ! that is another affair."

This laconic reply was enough for the governor. He took a
pen, and wrote to the grand inquisitor as follows :

"Our holy religion can secure a noble conquest Tumilco
wishes to drink at the streams of the true faith. His conversion
will set a good example. This neophyte will do us great credit
I ask that he be pardoned."

The grand inquisitor was on the public square, and very much

r

THE LAST CACIQUE. 249

oppressed by the heat He had never converted a cacique, and
the idea of bringing one within the fold of the church, pleased
him highly. At the bottom of the letter, he wrote — " Granted."

"lam successful," said the governor ; " and everybody will be
satisfied."

But a tremendous clamor reached and disturbed him in the
midst of his joy. It was the murmuring populace, who, with
loud cries, demanded the execution.

" The devil !" murmured his excellency ; " I never thought of
the people. How can I quiet them ?"

X.

HOW TO APPEASE THE POPULACE.

As the uproar grew louder and loudqr, and they were begin-
ning to pick up stones, in order to break the windows of his
hotel, the governor went out on the balcony, to speak to the
mob.

" Senores I* said he, " divine Providence has wrought a mira-
cle. The eyes of Tumilco have been opened to behold the light
It is his desire to become a Christian. We have pardoned
him."

Low murmurs here drowned the voice of the speaker ; but he
quickly resumed :

ss

250 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"You will lose nothing by waiting. To-morrow will take
place the baptism of the cacique Tumilco. In commemoration
of this great event, there will be a general procession, and a bull-
fight"

For a moment the populace seemed to hesitate between the

auto-da-fe and the baptism, — but soon decided to accept the

compensation proposed A thousand joyful shouts showed the
general satisfaction.

The governor returned to enjoy his victory, and to receive the
thanks of Grenadilla. But he found her not In vain did they
search for her throughout the palace. No one could tell any
tidings concerning her.

XL

AN INTERLUDE.

The reader has probably concluded that Grenadilla, though
proud and beautiful as the flower whose name she bears, has, nev-
ertheless, a secret passion for the cacique — the young and hand-
some savage. The rules of the novel would, indeed, seem to
require this ; but truth has its rights, which we are bound to re-
spect. Tumilco is old, ugly, and broken down; and if, as the
foregoing chapter shows, Grenadilla loves him, it is because the
cacique took care of her in her childhood ; it is because she was
received by him when she was an infant, poor and forsaken, and
was by him protected, until circumstances, which we need not re-
late, compelled him to leave his native province.

THE LAST CACIQUE. 251

Grenadilla, by saving the life of Tumilco, had acquitted herself
of this obligation.

Satisfied at having done her duty, she started that very night
for Europe. It was the only way in which she could avoid the
persecutions of the governor.

When three months out, the ship which conveyed her was
wrecked. Her body was thrown, by the waves, upon the Spanish
coast

The Flower Fairy being at the time in those latitudes, engaged
in watching over the Jessamine, received the body of Grenadilla.
In the spot where she found her, she caused a splendid thicket of
pomegranates to rise, whose fruits and flowers, like the beauty and
the talents of Grenadilla, were delightful to behold.

XII.

WE RETURN TO THE CACIQUE.

Tumilco, having been baptized under the name of Esteban,
made his home in Mexico, and lived there on a small pension
paid to him by the government, in consideration of his being a
descendant of Montezuma.

The sincerity of his conversion was often questioned; and
they were thinking of again bringing him before the holy office,
when be fell very sick. He asked that a physician might be
called : his charitable neighbors sent him a priest

252 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" Brother Esteban," said the priest, " it is time you should com-
mend your soul to the mercy of God."

" My name is not Esteban," the cacique replied. " I am called
Tumilco. Go about your business !"

" Think of God, my brother."

" Thy God is not mine," said Tumilco. " Will some one open
the window V

His request was complied with. The setting sun was still
bright in the west

" There is my god," said the cacique, " and the god of my
fathers. Sun ! receive thy child to thy bosom !"

The priest covered his face with his hands, made the sign of
the cross, and murmured, " vade retro Satanas"

Tumilco was dead.

"Sooner might you prevent the sunflower from following the
sun in his course, than one of these heretics from returning to the
worship of their luminary. This is what we gained by not burn-
ing him."

The charitable neighbor who pronounced the above funeral
oration, had no idea that the cacique Tumilco was merely the
incarnation of the Sunflower. In worshipping the sun, he did
but obey the laws of his being.

FILEUSE

THE FLAX.

The flax, before decking our spindles, is a pretty flower. It is **
said to have lived upon earth, in the form of a handsome spinner.
Let us sing, young girls, let us sing the praises of the flax.

The flax is the flower of industry ; it is the mother of sweet^
visions and of good thoughts.

You have heard the story of Marguerite, who was tempted by
the demon. So long as she kept her wheel in motion, the enemy
of souls dared not approach her.

During the day, while we tend our flocks, the flax, faithful
friend, preserves us from ennui. It twirls merrily between our s
fingers, and mingles its soft music with our songs. Let us cherish,
young girls, let us cherish the flax.

The narratives of old age never amuse us so much, as when
accompanied by the hum of the little spinning-wheel.

254 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

S Spinning the flax, my mother rocked my cradle ; spinning, she
taught me to lisp my first song.

Still my old grandmother seems happy with her distaff, — sing-
ing, at times, and shaking her head.

How merrily the weaver makes his shuttle fly through the
loom. He is fair as the flax which composes his woof. The
weaver is the prince of handicraftsmen. He and the spinning-
girl would manage well together. Mother, I would like to marry
a weaver.

Of linen the whitest and clearest, shall my bridal veil be made.

Of the same, will be formed the shroud that shall wrap me when
dead. Spin, young girls, spin the flax.

t

6

THE TRUTH

IN &BOARD TO

CLEMENCE-ISAURE.

Bear me witness, gods and men ! that I never asked a favor
from the muse of Toulouse. I am innocent of having sent a
single article to the competition of the floral games. No one,
therefore, can accuse me of either envy or ill-will, if I tell the
truth respecting Clemence-Isaure.

Early in this work, we mentioned the settled purpose of the
Eglantine, when she left the kingdom of the Flower Fairy, to be-
come a literary woman.

This class of persons had fallen into discredit ; and tradition
alone preserved the remembrance of literary ladies, at the time
when the Eglantine arrived in Gascony. It was natural that this
country should suit her ; and she fixed her residence at Toulouse,
the headquarters of the troubadours.

Being young, beautiful, and wealthy, she at once met with

256 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

S great success. Her saloons were constantly filled ; and she was
cited as a model in wit, good taste, and splendid dress. As every
literary woman must have some particular passion, she never
showed herself in public, but with stockings of the deepest blue.

Since that time, the title of bas-bleu has been given to all indi-
viduals of the fair sex, who dabble in poetry and literature.

As a single name did not satisfy her, she took that of Clemence-
Isaure.

Journals had not then been invented, and the Eglantine, or
rather C16mence-Isaure, could not enjoy the pleasure of seeing,
each morning, in print, the result of her evening lucubrations.
She contented herself with reading her productions to her friends.
At this epoch, the custom was already established, of meeting to
hear little poems recited. What took the place of our tea and
sandwiches, at these meetings, is not known.

It is in these friendly unions, that we discover the incipient
idea of an academy.

The literary career of Clemence-Isaure was, for a short time,
interrupted by her marriage, which took place about this time.

Lautrec, her husband, was a young and handsome cavalier, who
was passionately attached to her, and who braved a father's curse,
in order to marry her.

A few months afterward, Lautrec began to repent of it. Cle-
mence-Isaure wished him to attend to housekeeping. The
accounts of the cook, laundress, butcher, grocer, and other pur-
veyors, were all assigned to him.

CLEMENCE-ISAURE. 257

For a short time, L autre c took comfort in the prospect of be-
coming a father. But, alas ! this relation only added anew to his
mortification and despair. His wife left to him the entire care
of the baby : it was his business to wash, to rock, and to tend it.
It was Clemence-Isaure who gave utterance first to that ingenious
and profound remark : "A husband is a favor granted by the civil
code."

Lautrec died in early life, — from fatigue and vexation, as some
say, while others ascribe it to an inflammation of the lungs.

Whatever the cause, Clemence-Isaure mourned for him, and
composed, in Gascon verse, a splendid epitaph, which was in-
scribed upon his tomb.

At the end of six months, this inconsolable widow was inclined
to marry again ; but the fate of the young and handsome Lautrec
deterred the most adventurous. To console herself in her
widowhood, Clemence-Isaure, free now from every care, found-
ed that famous academy of floral sports, which is in existence
still.

She proposed that the author of the finest piece of poetry,
should be decorated with a golden Eglantine, — and she presented
herself as the prize.

Since that time, the Eglantine has been the subject of a thou-
sand transmigrations. She has animated successively the body of
Margaret of Navarre ;

Of Madame du Deffand ;

Of Madame de Stael.

33

258 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Sometimes she has selected individuals less illustrious. During
the empire, she was called Madame Babois.

Under the Bourbons restored, her signature was — "La Can-
temporame."

We shall not inform you of the name by which she is now
known.

Guess if you can, and select if you dare.

There are some who curse the Eglantine, as the mother of the
whole family of bas-bleus. Verily, they are quite in the wrong.
What would become of those poets whom nobody understands,
were there no kind blue-stocking to console them 1

Others profess to regard it as a slander on the Eglantine, when
this pretty and agreeable flower is made to represent poetry. Ah !
yes, it is indeed the poetry of the bas-bleu ; in its youth, a pleas-
ing flower, — but in its old age, a fruit, tasteless and ridiculous.

^■■■■1

h

l-

I

h

NOCTURNE.

THE POPPY.

I was once the flower of sleep. But sleep no longer brings to
man forgetfulness of his woes.

Indeed, he does not now wish to sleep— but to dream. Once I
was oblivion, — now I am illusion.

He pierced me to the heart, and drank the blood which issued
from the wound.

Alas ! since that day, I have known neither happiness nor tran-
quillity.

Hardly does my stem show itself above the surface, ere the
weapon comes and pierces my breast — giving vent to that fluid
which causes visions, and which long intoxicates both the head
and the heart

Man no sooner brings me to his lips, than his soul takes flight,
and soars away from earth.

260 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

It goes back into the past, — it plunges forward into the future,
— or roves through the realms of memory and of hope.

Where now is the time when I used to traverse the air, drop-
ping my harmless seeds upon the brows of mortals 7

Then, I called around me gentle sleep, the offspring of toil, and
the parent of peaceful dreams.

To the slumbering mother I showed her new-born infant, fresh
and smiling. To the orphan I presented his mother, kindly
stooping to his lips, to give him her blessing with her kiss.

My life was happy and peaceful — and like the spring, it was
bright and short.

What malignant genius revealed to men the philter contained
in my bosom, — that philter which is so fatal to myself?

Yet why should I complain ?

I resemble the poet. Men are indebted to him for their sweet-
est pleasures — their most agreeable illusions; and yet he is the
first to become their victim.

k

r

THE ASS IN THE LION'S OVERCOAT.

THE GOSSIP OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD.

Miss Rose Chardon was said to be a tall, handsome girl — who
carried her head high — and who, if she were proud, or, as some
thought, vain — and also, a little too keen in her repartees — was
yet a good girl at heart

One could not, they said, get very near her. In her bright eyes,
and on the end of her turned-up nose, you read the words : " Qui
s'y frotte s'y pique."*

It was said that no one had ventured to make love to her. On
this point the neighborhood mistook.

# " He touches it at his peril."

262 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

II.

THE LION.

Monsieur the marquis Annibal-Astolphe-Tancrede de l'Asnerie
happened to notice Miss Chardon, as she sat at work by her win-
dow, one pleasant summer afternoon. As the Marquis Annibal-
Astolphe-Tancrede de l'Asnerie was exceedingly inflammable, he
took fire. He swore that he would gain the affections of the gri-
sette — an exploit which he regarded as by no means difficult

III.

THE NOTARY'S CLERK.

The marquis was not alone in discovering the beauty of Rose
Chardon. Lilio, who was clerk to the notary at the corner of
the great square, had, for a long time, remarked the same. So
one fine day he wrote her a letter, confessing his love. He then
passed and repassed her window for an hour, in expectation of
her answer. The same day, the Marquis Annibal-Astolphe-Tan-
crede resolved on the same course. He sent his letter, and went
himself to get the answer. For two hours he promenaded under
the balcony, humming all the time. A man of expedients, truly,
was the marquis.

Rose's old porter knew very well what all this meant She

THE ASS IN THE LION'S OVERCOAT. 263

imparted her discovery to the water-carrier — who communicated
it to the fruitwoman — who, in her turn, told it out loud at the
grocer's. Within twenty-four hours, the whole neighborhood
was aware that two individuals were paying court to Miss Char-
don — pretty Rose Chardon — to wit: the Marquis Annibal-As-
tolphe-Tancrede de FAsnerie, and the little clerk Lilio. This
Lilio was one of the most delightful little clerks in the world — a
real cherub of a clerk — fond of all the ladies, but loving only
Rose Chardon. He was always cheerful, always smiling ; tender-
hearted, yet sprightly, and redolent of health and of love.

IV.

THE NEW OPINIONS OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD.

The position of affairs was no sooner known, than the neigh-
borhood began, very naturally, to ask : " Which of the two rivals
will carry the day ?"

Two parties were formed. The women, as usual, were divided.
The girls said, " It will be Lilio :" while the old women offered
to bet on the side of Annibal-Astolphe-Tancrede.

" Lilio is handsome.1'

"Annibal-Astolphe-Tancrede is noble"

" Lilio is sprightly."

"Annibal-Astolphe-Tancrede is rich."

264 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" But Lilio will make her so happy !"

"Yes; and Annibal-Astolphe-Tancr^de will make her a mar-
chioness."

You see that these confounded old women had an answer
ready for every thing. Throughout the whole neighborhood
there prevailed a painful uncertainty ; and they even attempted to
discover the unrevealed intentions of Miss Chardon herself.

V.

A GLANCE AT WOMAN'S INMOST HEART.

Did Rose herself know ?

Who can tell what are the thoughts of woman, when she is
placed between her sentiments and her desires — between love
and fortune ? To fortune she at first says, No !

The first time, this answer is given very strongly, — then,
strongly, — then, in a loud voice, — then, in the usual tone, — then,
moderately, — then, in a low voice. The next time, she murmurs
it, — and, finally, she says nothing. Fortune now returns to the
attack.

Woman murmurs a yes, — then, she repeats it in a low voice, —
then, in a moderate one, — then, in her ordinary tone. The next
time, her answer is strong, — then, very strong, — and, at last, very
strong indeed.

\

THE ASS IN THE LION'S OVERCOAT. 265

Mark, now, in what way woman makes her choice.

At first, youth, beauty, wit — the qualities of the soul and of the
mind, appear very attractive ; but then luxury, splendor, rank, and
titles are not to be disdained. Of these, while they are seen at a
distance, we think little. The perspective changes, as they come
within our reach. The sacrifice of the former may, indeed, cost
us some tears — but how soon are they dried up by the sparkle of
the diamonds !

Vanity silences love ; and can one with the charms of Miss
Rose Char don, be otherwise than vain ?

Not without good reason, then, did the old gossips of the neigh-
borhood exclaim, as they beheld, one day, the fair seamstress
scornfully repel the gallantries of the marquis, — "Ah! it is very
well now. She will come to it."

VI.

THE MARQUIS TRIUMPHS.

So, in fact, she did come to it. But where ? To the house of
the marquis, one evening, at dusk. She was admitted by the
small park-gate. In the course of the night, they set out together
for Italy.

There are women — and they are by no means the least
sprightly, or the least attractive of their sex — who are charmed

266 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

by nonsense and stupidity. The two qualities must, it is true, be
accompanied by a good deal of money. Miss Chardon was,
probably, one of this class.

Notwithstanding the clamor of both the older and the younger
branches of the noble house of Asnerie, the Marquis Annibal-
Astolphe-Tancrede married the seamstress. He had set his heart
on this degrading alliance.

VII.

AN EXTRAORDINARY INSTANCE OF MODERATION.

We are happy to state, that the old women of the neighbor-
hood took no advantage of their victory. So far from proclaim-
ing it through the street, they only said to the young folks : —
" Well, what do you think of it now ?"

VIII.

THE LITTLE CLERK'S DESPAIR.

Lilio tore his hair, and told his employer that he wished to en-
list among the king's grenadiers.

As, alone, he walked to and fro in his little chamber, he thus
soliloquized: "I would have done far better if, when I had the
power of choice, I had selected the female form. Then I should

THE ASS IN THE LION'S OVERCOAT. 267

have worn flowers in my hair, and in my girdle, and then I should
have been loved.

" What does it avail me to be the fresh and fragrant Lilac, if I
am despised — and if seamstresses prefer to me, such a simpleton,
such an animal, such an ass, as this marquis ?"

Had Lilio known the flower whose favor he sought, he would
have been less surprised at her choice. At all times, le chardon
has been made for les . . . . marquis.*

IX.

THE MARCHIONESS.

Before a year had expired, the Marchioness de l'Asnerie discov-
ered that her husband was avaricious, ignorant, coarse, and sen-
sual. In spite of his titles, the ends of his clownish ears were
always peeping out

A legal investigation showed that he was not the offspring of
his reputed father ; but that he was the child of a peasant, surrep-
titiously introduced by the Marquis de l'Asnerie, in order to set
aside the lawful heirs.

Mademoiselle Chardon fell sick in consequence. She is now
suing for a divorce from her husband.

• The fondness of the ass for the thistle is well known. The suspense indicated by the
dotted space, suggests the word which may be supposed to have first occurred. — [Tb.

EPITHALAME.

THE ORANGE-BLOSSOM.

This morning, young girl, thy companions have been seeking,
in the meads moist with dew, for a flower to deck thy virgin
brow.

Thou art about to leave us, and to follow thy lover. In our
dances and sports thou wilt join no longer.

Accept this Orange-blossom, to which we were attracted by its
sweet fragrance.

As we drew near the tree, the orange-flower addressed us;
"You are seeking a bouquet to adorn the bosom of the bride.
Take me.

" I am white and sweet, like her. Like Chastity, my fragrance
endures long after I have been plucked from the stem."

THE ORANGE-BLOSSOM. 269

"Bridal flower," we said to her, "why dost thou bear fruit
also on thy branches V9

She replied :

" I am the emblem of married woman. While still a lover, she
has become a mother. The woman and her children are seen
side by side — fruit and flower together."

Then we gathered it

Divide this orange-sprig, young girl, placing one-half of it
among thy tresses, and the other half on thy bosom. It is the
last gift of thy beloved companions. This evening we shall ac-
company thee to the church; and thy mother, after she has
embraced thee, will close upon thee the door of thy husband's
house.

Keep our garland and bouquet, young girl, — keep them long ;
and when the orange-flowers shall have all faded, mayest thou not
regret the time, when thou wast fair as they.

THE CONVENT OF THE CAPUCHINS.

L

UNDER THE TREES.

In the fine climate of Seville, the heat at noon is so intense,
that merchants, soldiers, nobles, priests, canons, archbishops, nuns,
abbesses — all the inhabitants, indeed, not excepting the grand
inquisitor himself, take a siesta.

On the day of our story, two young nuns of the Capuchin con-
vent, were the only persons who were not asleep*

Seated under a row of trees, at the foot of the cloister garden, •
they were conversing in low tones. What, think you, could those
two capuchins find to talk about, at a time when it was so hot,
and when everybody else was asleep ?

Of that, certainly, which" keeps young hearts awake, and re-
gardless alike of heat and cold, of wind and sun, namely, — of

THE CONVENT OF THE CAPUCHINS. 271

festivals, of pleasures, of dancing, and liberty, and promenades
out of doors.

It is possible that they conversed upon some other topic, — but
this we would not venture to affirm.

" I can live here no longer," said sister Carmen.

" I shall die, unless some one takes me from the convent," said
sister Ines.

A single glance at these two nuns, would have convinced any
one that convent life could not suit them.

Carmen's eyes shot forth flames ; those of Ines were moist and
languid. Carmen's hand and foot would have been the most
beautiful in the world, had it not been for the hand and foot of
Ines. Our enthusiasm would carry us too far, were we to de-
scribe, in detail, all their charms.

Sister Carmen and sister Ines resumed their conversation.

" During the day, I have a dizziness in my head ; at night, I
can get no sleep."

u I have frightful dreams."

u Oh ! tell me your dreams."

" I seem to hear the sound of a guitar, under the window of
my cell, and a voice, which calls to me — 'Ines ! Ines !' "

"My dear sister, 1 had the very same dream last night."

.272 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" What if some man really came under our windows f '

" Or what if it were the devil t They say that he is always
roaming in the neighborhood of convents."

" You are right ; it must have been he who sent us these wicked
thoughts."

" We must tell the whole to our confessor."

" In the mean time, let us pray our patron saint, that she de-
liver us from the tempter."

Then the two sisters kneeled devoutly before a cross which
stood at the foot of the garden.

II.

SISTER GUIMAUVE.

The sister who had the care of the hospital, had come into the
garden to gather some simples, which she needed for her patients.

It is proper to inform you, that this sick-nurse was no other
than the Marsh-mallow. On the earth, it had been her constant
aim to gratify her benevolent inclinations. For a long time had
she now discharged the duties of a sick-nurse. The preparation
of tisans was her highest felicity. If, as she walked through the
fields, she found a grasshopper which, exhausted by the heat, was

1

THE CONVENT OF THE CAPUCHINS. 273

taking its nap in the furrow — or a frog, squatting among the *
rushes — she would insist upon it, that the grasshopper and the
frog looked sick ; and so she would carry them home to be cared
for. In her devotion to these cares, she manifested a sort of mo-
nomania.

Being tired of a world in which, as she said, no one thought
himself sick, she had retired to a convent, in which they intrusted
her with the direction of the hospital This is an important
charge in a place where the inmates, not knowing how to kill the
time, spend it often in imagining themselves unwell. According-
ly, the Guimauve was constantly congratulating herself on her
new position.

Her panacea — her universal remedy — was the marsh-mallow.
This she administered in every possible shape, of tisan, paste, &c. ;
and hence the young nuns laughingly called her sister Guimauve
— a title which became fixed upon her.

Sister Guimauve noticed the nuns at their prayers.

" Do not disturb yourselves, my dear children," said she ; " go
on with your orisons. I come to inspect my little domain. Ah !
these accursed monkshoods — will they never blow !"

She pointed, at the moment, to a splendid border of these plants,
the buds of which were just beginning to appear.

15

274 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

III.

THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.

" Parbleu !" said a brisk young cavalier, as he admired himself
in the glass ; " I have done well in changing my sex. 1 must con-
fess that I was pretty thoroughly ennuied when, as dancer at the
opera, I was employed in executing pas de deux, in company with
the Bellflower. Was it for such a life that I left the garden of the
Flower Fairy ?

"Now, I have a hat with a plume — a satin doublet — a velvet
cloak — puffs on my shoes — a rapier at my side — and shoulder-
knots of riband. Men call me Don Guzman : I smile upon the
fair, and I send them billets-doux. No other life than this befits
the Lily of the Valley."

Having thus soliloquized, he pulled out a watch enriched with
brilliants.

"It is eleven o'clock/9 said he: "where shall, I attend mass this
morning ?"

I

THE CONVENT OF THE CAPUCHINS. 275

IV.

THE LETTER.

After naming over all the churches in Seville, Don Gnzman
decided on that of the Capuchins. The nuns came to hear mass
in a certain chapel. They were separated from the rest of the
faithful, only by a grating. Don Guzman had noticed that the
Capuchin sisters were the prettiest of all the nuns of Seville ; and
he never failed, when he attended their church, to place himself
on a particular side of the grating.

On this day, as chance would have it, sister Carmen was
placed in the foremost rank, at the corner of the chapel, opposite
that part of the grate where Don Guzman was leaning.

He looked at the nun, and she cast down her eyes. He looked
at her again, and he perceived that she blushed. He wished for
nothing more than that

In order to be ready for any thing that might happen, he al-
ways kept his pockets full of declarations, which were variously
expressed, according to the rank of the individuals whom he ad-
dressed. He now rummaged the pocket for the nuns — and drew
thence a letter, which he dexterously dropped in the lap of Car-
men, without its being noticed by any one.

In this letter, he proposed to Carmen to carry her off. In case
she consented, she had only to be at the little gate of the convent,
at the hour of midnight

276 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED,

V.

THE CAPUCHINS.

From the little that we know of botany, we should have said
that the monkshood is a flower of warm passions. It is not only
brilliant by day, but night sees it surrounded by a halo of phos-
phorescent rays. What notion could induce it to give the prefer-
ence to a life in the cloister T It is difficult to say, unless, indeed,
it were attracted to it by a similarity of names.

Carmen and Ines were two Monkshoods. Their disgust in
regard to convent life will, of course, surprise no one.

Whatever good resolutions they might make at the foot of the
cross, those resolutions were not sufficient to protect them against
the letter of Don Guzman.

Carmen showed it to Ines.

After much reflection, and much hesitation, which we spare the
reader, Carmen and Ines resolved to escape together. Owing to
the indulgence of the lady abbess, who shut only the novices up
in their cells, this would not be a difficult affair. As to the key
of the small garden-gate, they knew that they could find it with
the keeper of the turning-box — who regularly went to sleep at
nine o'clock, and, happen what would to the convent, never awoke
till the next morning. . There are slumbers which protect inno-
cence.

i

1

THE CONVENT OF THE CAPUCHINS. 277

VI.

CHANGE OF DESTINATION.

Not a cloud obscured the sky.

We would like to say that the midnight hour had rung from
the clock in the old tower ; but the truth is, that the Capuchin
convent had neither tower nor clock.

Don Guzman, at a short distance off, was waiting for Carmen.
On seeing Ines, he stopped in surprise.

u It is my sister," said Carmen, in a low voice. " You will give
us both your protection."

The affair is getting complicated, thought the Lily. However,
he had to submit.

" Where do you wish that I should take you !"

The two sisters looked at one another.

M We have not thought at all," they replied, with a timid air.

u Do you, then, confide yourself entirely to me, lovely Carmen V

" It must be so, Signor don Guzman.'

u Well, then, enter the carriage."

278 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

When they were in, he followed them.

" Pablo/' said he to the postillion, as he was closing the door,
" drive to — "

" To the garden of the Flower Fairy," said an unknown voice,
completing the sentence which he began.

And the horses, as if they had been wings, bore aloft the car-
riage, which soon disappeared in empty space.

The moment had come for recalling the fugitives to their
home ; and the Flower Fairy had commenced her circuit for this
purpose. As the Guimauve was engaged only in doing good upon
the earth, the fairy resolved that she should remain to the last

V

i 4i:4

DUETTINO.

THE SNOWDROP AND THE PRIMROSE.

THE SNOWDROP.

Primrose ! Primrose ! Wake up !

THE PRIMROSE.

^Who calls me 1

THE 8NOWDROP.

{ It is thy friend the Snowdrop, who is cold, and wishes to warm
himself in thy breath.

THE PRIMROSE.

Why have I slept so long \ How pleasant it seems to inhale
the spring breeze— to see the green herb — to fee] the warm odor
of the buds — and to see one's self in the pellucid stream !

THE SNOWDROP.

But for me, thou hadst been sleeping still. To me thou owest
the smiles of this bright April morning. Ah! didst thou but
know how pretty thou art, in thy little white corsage — how fresh
thy cheeks are — and how gracefully thou stoopest to the breeze
that brushes past thee ! Bend towards me thy corolla, and let me
give thee a kiss.

THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

THE FRIMHOSE.

The spring loves not the winter ; youth loves not old age.
Thou art at the point of death, and yet thou talkest of love.

THE BNOWnBOP.

My strength has been exhausted by piercing through the hard
snows of winter. But thy breath, Primrose, refreshes me. Love
will revive me.

THE PRIMROSE.

Dost thou not perceive in the air, the fluttering of unseen
wings 1 The young Zephyr is coming. It is he whom I wish to
love, and who shall have my first kiss.

I have bloomed until this time, in spite of the frost I feel that
spring is coming. Must I die without hearing the sweet songs of
the birds, and without experiencing the reviving warmth of the
sun and of love 1

1

J

^

-tg#.;-t

&

THE FLOWEKS PEESONIFIED.

THE DECAMERON.

At a crossing in the forest, where four roads unite, a number
of flowers happened to meet — among which were seen the
Cactus, the Peach-blossom, the Dahlia, the Sensitive-plant, the
Fuchsia, the Periwinkle, and the Sweet-scented Pea.

" Whither are you going V9 was the mutual inquiry.

"We are on our way back to the home of the Flower Fairy,"
was the reply ; " but we have mistaken the way, and we know not
where to inquire"

So they sent out the Sweet-scented Pea to explore. In about
fifteen minutes the Pea returned. It had climbed to the top of
the loftiest trees, without perceiving any thing but an horizon of
verdure. The forest was evidently without inhabitants — for not
even a woodman's hut could anywhere be seen.

" The Redbreast is my friend," said the Fuchsia ; u he will,
perhaps, give us some information."

36

282 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" Halloa ! Mr. Redbreast, are we far from the country of the
Flower Fairy !"

Instead of replying, the Redbreast flew frightened away, and
disappeared in the neighboring thicket

"I propose," said the Dahlia, "that we give chase to a but-
terfly, and that, after we have taken him, we compel him, in
return for his liberty, to conduct us on our way/'

" Rather let us wait till night," replied the Sweet Pea, " When
the sylphs come flitting about in the moonlight, we will hail them
— and it will be strange indeed, if some one does not consent to
be our guide, in return for the pleasure which we have heretofore
imparted, when we used to rock them among our petals.'

»

"Alas!" murmured the Sensitive-plant, in a plaintive tone,
"have you forgotten that we are women, and not flowers t The
birds fly away as we approach them ; the butterflies do not under-
stand our language ; the sylphs no longer recognise us. Nothing
remains for us, but to die in this forest. As for myself, I could
not take another step : the thorns have lacerated my feet, and my
hands shrink from the rough contact of the bushes. It is with
difficulty that I support myself; and I must yield to my hard
fate."

The Sensitive-plant then fell, or rather sank down upon the
turf.

"What!" cried the petulant Fuchsia, "shall we give up like
actual, silly women? No, faith! we will keep up our courage.
The Flower Fairy will never leave us to die in this forest. Night
is yet distant — so is the wolf. This grass is soft — this shade,

THE DECAMERON. 283

refreshing. My sisters, let us sit down, and relate, in turn, what
each has been doing on the earth. The recital will amuse us;
and when we shall have recovered from our fatigue, we will try
our fortune again."

This proposal the flowers received with acclamation. " Which
of us shall begin V they asked.

"I will," said the Sweet-scented Pea; and immediately com-
menced in the following manner : —

THE STORY OF THE SWEET-SCENTED PEA.

" Expect not to find in my life, any extraordinary circumstan-
ces, or unusual events. As soon as I came upon earth, preferring
to remain in humble life, I entered into service at the house of a
gardener. One other servant and myself composed the house-
hold.

" My companion, whose name was Margot, was a stout, chub-
faced hoyden, with ruddy complexion and square shoulders, and
was admired by all the villagers. * She can work like an ox/ our
master would often say, when he wished to express his sense of
her value. In fact, he preferred her to me upon all occasions.

"As to myself, I could do nothing. All that I was good for,
was to dance upon Sunday, and to laugh and romp during the rest
of the week. ' She is genteel enough,' said the farmer, speaking
of me, . ' but she is a silly thing. She either is looking out of the
window, or lolling round and singing. I shall never make any
thing of her/

/

284 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" The result of this comparison between Margot and myself,
was that she received all our master's favors. The good living,
the sweet morsels of maize-cake, the goose-legs, fat and plump,
the full cups of foaming cider — were all for her. For me were
left fragments of bread, old and dry, bones, and well-water. Some-
times they seemed to grudge me even this; and, without the
farmer's knowledge, I was fain to quench my thirst at the water-
ing-pot

" Still I could not help thinking that I was prettier than Mar-
got ; and I wondered why he should prefer her to me.

" I went, one day, with our master to the garden. We passed
a hedge in which were entwined stems of the plant that bears
my name. The sweet-pea buds already exhaled a faint odor;
and one of them, more forward than the rest, actually expanded,
as I breathed fondly over it.

" My master scarcely looked at it He was in haste to reach a
bed of common peas, in order to water and to weed it All day
long were we employed in this twofold labor. The farmer seemed
insensible to fatigue.

" Towards evening we again went past the hedge. The sweet-
scented peas seemed to regard me with a languid air.

"'Master/ said I to him, at the same time pointing* to the
hedge, ' will you not water these also Y

<t

The peasant shrugged his shoulders.

" ' I care not if I slave my life out for these good, substantial
little peas, that toil all day to form within their hard, close pods,

THE DECAMERON. 285

those little balls which, in good time, I can sell so well. But as
for these sweet-pea sluggards — no matter for them/

" ' They are pretty/

" ' But they bear nothing. Worthless herbs always flourish. S
Let us go home/

" I found out, then, why he preferred Margot to me. On this
earth, to be agreeable, one must be useful. '

" My vanity being thus wounded, I left the farmer and went to
the city. Alas ! I found myself neither happier nor more respect-
ed there. The grisettes would leave me to perish of thirst and
heat on the ledge of the window, and would finally throw me into
the street, to make way for the rose, which some novelist had
brought into fashion. The porters alone showed some sympathy
for me. But this, instead of making me proud, served only to
humble me. 'Let me leave/ said I to myself — 'let me leave the
earth, and return to the fairy. There, at least, equality reigns
among all the flowers. There, they are not subject to the ca-
prices of fashion. There, they know nothing of the petty griefs
and vexations of mortified vanity/ I set out immediately. I have
met you, sisters ; and now I am ready to hear you relate each her
own story."

STORY OP THE CACTUS.

The Cactus next spoke : —

" The entire history of my life on earth may be summed up in
four words — I have been cold.

286 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

14 1 can never exist in a region of frost and snow, and where
one is perpetually assailed by rain, and wind, and hail.

" Had I remained in the torrid zone, I should have had no rea-
son to complain. But I was so foolish as to follow a botanist to
y Europe, and the consequence was, that my limbs became stiff with
rheumatism. Even in a green-house, one must always be the
victim of some treacherous draught of air.

" Then this artificial heat gave me the headache, and caused an
insupportable heaviness of feelings. My blood, of lively red, no
longer circulated. My heavy head fell down upon my breast In
my hallucination, it seemed to me that I was transformed to a
jrtrtress, fondly clasping a stove, as in winter I had often seen one
do, in the lodge of our hotel.

" How often did I regret the mild, warm temperature of the
country where we flowers were born. How weary did I become
of the mantels and marble consoles, on which I was placed as an
ornament At length I made a bold resolve. Shaking off the
torpor of my spirit, and taking advantage of the summer warmth,
which allowed me to remain in the open air, I made my escape.
At this moment, there is but one thing which I fear, — and that is,
to pass the night without shelter. The coolness of the night
might strike through me. But we shall not, I trust, be reduced
to that extremity. The Flower Fairy will surely come to our
aid. Who speaks next V9

THE DECAMERON. 287

THE PERIWINKLE'S STORY.

" It was a fine April morning when I first awoke upon earth.
A rill was gently murmuring at my feet; birds sang over my
head ; and a fragrant breeze was playing with my hair.

"The earth in its new dress looked so beautiful, — the skies
were so blue, — and the sun was so bright, that my eyes involun-
tarily filled with tears. Without waiting for the succeeding day,
I set out on my return. As it then was, the earth could have
made me forget the land of flowers. But ah ! — the morrow !
what disenchantment might it not bring ! * * *

u I would fain preserve my illusions. When I shall have re-
turned, I shall ask permission of the Flower Fairy to spend, each
year, a single hour on earth — one swift and fleeting hour of
spring-— that I may inhale its breezes, behold its sky, and see my
image in the glassy stream."

THE STORY OF THE FUCHSIA.

The Fuchsia followed the Periwinkle:

" As for me," said she, in a voice clear and silvery, " I have lost
all fondness for the earth, and to be compelled to return to it,
would be the heaviest punishment that I could receive. My life
has been a short and happy one — yet I have no desire to begin it
anew. It is not best to spoil one's impressions. In this I agree
with the Periwinkle.

"I selected Paris for my place of abode, and resided in the

288 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

quarter Breda. I frequented balls, and shows, and concerts. I
had splendid apartments, and kept a coach, two horses, and a
groom. I danced the polka to perfection. I smoked cigarettes,
rode on horseback, played at lansquenet, and drank champagne.
Of me, as of Fanchon, it might have been said : ' She loves to
laugh ; she loves to drink ; and like us, she loves to sing.'

"You should have seen how pretty I was at that period — and
especially when, in the winter, I made my appearance at the ball,
in my splendid masquerade dress. Everybody said that I repre-
sented, to the life, that ancient goddess who presided over idle
amusements. I had her grace, her wit, her engaging figure, and
her sprightliness. Alas ! all this success lasted but a short time.
I was too fond of champagne. This has given me that miserable
malady which the physicians call gastritis. Since my stomach
became disordered, the earth is insupportable. I return to dwell
among the flowers — to diet upon the milk of the dew, and the
sirup of the breeze. Zephyr, the flower doctor, will undoubtedly
restore me to health/9

THE mSTORY OF THE DAHLIA.

After encouraging and reassuring the poor invalid, the flowers
again became silent, that they might hear the story of the Dahlia.

" In me you behold," said the Dahlia, " a flower-girl out of em-
ploy. To tie flowers together, — to sell them to those people who
are always haggling,— to convey them to the home of the pur-
chaser,— such were my occupations.

it

I know that a good deal of poetry has been written in regard

THE DECAMERON. 289

to flower-girls. I have read novels and romances, in which they
are made to play a very interesting part They help on true love
— they disappoint the coxcomb — and they keep the ran of all
intrigues. Tired of seeing women receive bouquets, and amorous
men descending from their passionate elevation, to reduce my bill
a few centimes ; weary of being followed round by old bachelors,
who clasp me by the waist, and call me Flora's priestess, I have
resolved to flee from mankind, and to return to my old condition
— that of a simple flower."

The Dahlia having thus briefly told her story, there remained
only the Sensitive-plant and the Peach-blossom.

THE HISTORY OF THE SENSITIVE-PLANT.

" The poor Sensitive-plant was not made for this world, — this
I have learned but too well.

" Hardly had I assumed the garb of woman, ere my sensibility
had caused me frightful distress. I speak not of love — in this
respect, my modesty was a defence.

" It was from very different causes that I suffered. The music
of the theatre threw me into a swoon. The impassioned scenes
of the drama brought on protracted fainting-fits. The slightest
change of temperature deranged my nerves.

"The cigar, especially, made my life wretched. How often
have I been exposed to the insolent whiffs of some coxcomb.

" Instead of pitying me, folks only laughed at me. I was re-

37

290 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

garded as a nervous woman. No one had faith in my sufferings.
Even my best friends declared that I was affecting something
which I did not feel.

"A famous magnetizer proposed to me to turn my fluid to ac-
count, by going through the country and giving representations, in
which I should read with my eyes closed, and detect maladies by
the mere inspection of the sick man's hair.

" Humbled by this proposal, and sick of the ridicule which is
heaped upon me, I have determined to become again a flower.
The breath of the breeze, the caresses of the butterfly, are the
only things which I can endure."

After the Sensitive-plant, with slow and plaintive voice, had
finished her story, the Peach-blossom related her adventures, in
manner as follows : —

THE STORY OF THE PEACH-BLOSSOM.

" I was born in an orchard. My parents were respectable, but"
— here her speech was cut short by a violent paroxysm of
coughing.

"Do ... not . . . mind . . . it," said she, stopping short after
each word. " One Sunday in April last, I determined, notwith-
standing the bad weather, to make my appearance in a white
dress, — and as a consequence, I took this cold."

She would have gone on ; but a cough, which grew more ob-
stinate every instant, prevented. *

>.

i

I

THE DECAMERON. 291

"Rest yourself," said the Cactus to her. "You are by nature,
sensitive to the cold; and, unfortunately for yourself, you are a
coquette also. We can imagine your history, without your taking
the pains to relate it Make no more unavailing efforts, which
do but aggravate your difficulty. You were young — the winter
had kept you immured in your cell — and you were impatient to
be seen in your beautiful new dishabille, which becomes you so
much. But a white dress does not suit the spring. Fortunately,
there are, in the place to which we shall return, espaliers so
warm, that you can array yourself, in spring, in your thinnest
gauzes, without dread of the hail. All we need, is to recover our
path."

" That is it !" exclaimed all the flowers at once ; " let us find
again our path."

THE BLUEBIRD.

It was easier to say this, than to accomplish it. Three paths
opened before the poor, hesitating flowers — but which to choose 1
Solitude reigned all around. To heighten their unhappiness, the
sun went down behind the trees, and night was fast enshrouding
the forest Our travellers were lamenting their fate, when they
all at once perceived a beautiful bird, which had just alighted on
a tree near the spot where they sat

He had a golden bill, emerald eyes, and wings of turquoise.
These as he looked at the flowers, he moved three times.

« It is he !" they all cried ; " it is he ! 'Tis our friend the Blue-
bird. Beautiful Bluebird ! dost thou know us ?"

292 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

The Bluebird gently and gracefully inclined his head, as though
he were saying, " Yes."

"Are we still far from the garden of the Flower Fairy, our own
dear country V

The bird flew to another branch, more remote, making with its
head a slight motion towards the flowers.

" He motions us to follow " said the Peach-blossom. " Sisters,
let us be quick/'

They advanced in the direction which the bird had taken.
When they arrived at the tree on which he was, he resumed his
flight, and alighted some two hundred feet farther on. At night,
the eyes of the Bluebird shone like two stars through the foliage,
while, to encourage the weary flowers, he began to sing.

We shall not state the number of leagues which the flowers
travelled that night. It may, without exaggeration, be set down
at over six thousand.

By dawn the song of the Bluebird ceased;— the flowers saw
him no more. They had reached their home.

SOSPIRI

THE BINDWEED.

I am a poor flower, which they leave to perish on the stem.
No young girl comes to gather me, when she adorns herself for
Sunday.

My cousin the Cornpoppy, despises me. My brother the Blue-
bottle, elated at being employed in the garland of the shepherd,
never addresses to me a consoling word. Down to my neighbor
the Larkspur, there is not one but regards me with a disdainful
air, as with long legs, he goes trotting on.

Having escaped, the other day, from my native furrow, I silently
crossed the meadow till I reached the bank of the stream. Then
putting my head in among the rose-bushes, I contemplated my
image at leisure.

I am not so homely as my cousin the Cornpoppy, as my brother
the Bluebottle, or as my neighbor the Larkspur.

294 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

And yet no one takes notice of me — but all neglect me. Even
the grasshopper, when I call him, runs away.

For an instant he stares at me with a wild look, then shakes
his long antennae, and, at a single bound, regains his hole.

I am the most wretched of flowers — not a creature loves me.

Thus, sighing deeply, spake the Bindweed.

A Ladybird, one of those pretty spotted insects, which children
call " petites betes du bon Dieu," was passing by, and heard the
lament of the Bindweed.

" Why dost thou complain of thy lot V9 said she. " How long
is it since mankind learned to appreciate the goodness which lies
concealed in solitude and in poverty t They pass it by without
noticing it — but God sees it, and makes use of it For him alone
were made the humble heart, and the little Bindweed."

1

<

THE HAWTHORN AND THE PRUNER

A STORY.

A Hawthorn, one day, when she saw her children and grand-
children spreading around her in adventurous shoots, addressed
them thus : —

" Listen to me, dear children. Overstep not the limits of your
native hedge ; advance not so far beyond the edge of the path,
nor risk yourselves in the midst of the neighboring shrubs. Be
on your guard, or the Pruner will devour you."

" Who is the Pruner ?" cried all the young Hawthorns.

"Ask my oldest daughter, your mother," replied the grandame.
" When she was very small, and had hardly begun to blow, I al-
lowed her one day to swing over the edge of the pathway. It
had been raining, and I was drying myself in the sun, when, hear-
ing shrieks of terror, I turned and saw the Pruner, who was
threatening your mother. I had barely time to dart forward, to
catch her in my arms, and rescue her from the teeth of the mon-

296 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

ster, which had already opened his frightful throat He came so
near us that I could almost feel his cold grip ; and I heard dis-
tinctly the grating cry with which he closed his jaws. Fortu-
nately, we were in safety."

The little Hawthorns shuddered with terror, and snuggled close
to one another.

"Mother," said they, "tell us how the Pruner looks, «that when
we grow up, we may be able to avoid him."

" It is then, especially, my children," replied the grandmother,
"that he will be dangerous to you. The Pruner, though a sort
of ogre by nature, does not like young flesh. He selects the
branches which surpass the rest in health and vigor, and upon
these he feeds. The Pruner, children, has only two jaws and a
throat. His thin lips are sharp and trenchant as steel. He is
subject to a master still more cruel than himself. This master is
called the gardener.

" The gardener, children, is a severe enemy of the poor plants
and unfortunate shrubs. Even the trees do not escape his fe-
rocity. He is perpetually contriving some new tortures for them.
I have seen apricot-trees, whose arms he had nailed crosswise
upon a wall that was exposed all day to the blazing sun. At
another time, he amputates a cherry or a prune tree. Sometimes,,
as if in bitter derision, he inserts the arm of one into the shoulder
of another. The yew-tree and the box are his most common
victims. He makes them walk on their heads — creep through a
hoop — and assume the strangest, the most difficult, the most un-
natural attitudes. If they look sulky, and show a desire to return
to their natural postures, he instantly calls the Pruner to bring
them to their senses.

THE HAWTHORN AND THE PRUNER. 297

" Do not trust the gardener, my children. His look is mild, his *
aspect calm. He generally wears a gray cap, a maroon-colored
surtout, and spectacles. He walks through the fields with his
hands in his pockets, and with a smile on his lips. His first ap-
pearance inspires confidence. He comes gently towards you ; he
looks at you with paternal kindness, and seems to observe with
pleasure how your luxuriant branches intermingle, and unite, and
embrace one another. Wo to those whom he fondles with his
hand ! The Primer is close behind him, and this is the signal for
him to dart upon his prey.

"Never imitate those plants and shrubs which love to lead a
life of luxury in gardens. The gardener's merciless tyranny makes
them pay dearly for their ambitious folly. Remain in the fields,
children ; keep yourselves solitary and concealed, if you would
keep clear of the Pruner."

This advice of the aged dame has been followed by her de-
scendants. The Hawthorn, praised be heaven, is one of the few
shrubs, upon which the hand of horticulture has not been laid
heavily.

God protect the Hawthorn !

38

CHANSON.

THE VINE.

y The vintagers have gone to the vintage — they go to gather the
ripe grapes.

/

Hear their shouts and their songs as they return. Mark how
their eyes sparkle. The glow of the ruddy grape has suffused
their faces.

They hold each other by the hand, and in chorus sing the song
of the vine — the pleasant song of the vine-dresser.

I, the active vine-dresser, am the husband of the vine.

I was very young when I married her, and she was only a poor
little Vine. Indeed, she was no higher than my hand.

Still I have ever been faithful to her.

She was my mistress — my dearest treasure. I spent my Sun-
day with her. I took the pebbles from her path ; I removed the
weeds from about her feet; I passed whole hours in looking at
her. In winter and in summer — in heat and frost — in wind and

/

THE VINE. 299

storm — it was for her that I toiled. One who is married to the
Vine, cannot sit long with arms crossed.

Our affairs have always been well managed.

See these pretty children which she has given me. The hill-
side is covered by them; and down below, in the plain, behold
my grandchildren.

The mother has never left the threshold of our house. Mark
her, though gray, still vigorous. See her long tresses wave. How
erect she still is. She clasps me with her arms when I enter my
cottage ; and with gentleness she looks at me, while at sunset I
drink, beneath her shade, my evening cap.

Let us sing the praises of the Vine, the vine-dresser's wife.

She is an excellent nurse. From her bosom flows a rose-
colored milk, which can strengthen the weak, and make good
thoughts spring up in the heart of the strong. Wo to him who,
after tasting the milk of the Vine, does not love a thousand times
better, his mistress, his country, and his friends.

Wine never makes cowards or traitors. Wine brings the heart
to the lips. It is the Vine which has given us wine.

S And when in spring it spreads upon the breeze the penetrating
fragrance of its little green blossom, all are happy — all feel them-
selves revive, and look forward to autumn, when they shall cele-
brate the husband and the wife — the vine-dresser and the Vine.

A CHAPTER ON BOUQUETS.

Volumes might be written on the part which bouquets have
performed in society, but we can devote to the subject only a
single chapter.

The bouquet assumes every variety of form, of aspect, and of
character. It may be thin, or delicate, or large, or massive. There
is the moral, the dangerous, the filial, the gallant, the conjugal, and
the adulterous bouquet The bouquet may have an air of truth
or of falsehood, of simplicity or of folly. Of the woman who
sports certain flowers, and wears them in a particular way, it may
be said — Quelle a jete son bouquet par dessus les moulins.*

We have but a word or two to say of the bouquet patronal.f
There is some gracefulness in the Mary bouquet and the Louisa
bouquet, — but what do you think of the scholastic bouquet, and
the Marceline bouquet? Then there are the Chrysostom bou-
quet, the Fancras bouquet, and the John bouquet What atro-
cious names !

* Jeter son bonnet par dessus les moulins, — to braye public opinion,
f Patronal, — named in honor of some saint.

A CHAPTER ON BOUQUETS. 301

There are certain mean and obscure bouquets, which find their
way into your houses, in order to obtain your money or your
favor. Have nothing to do with these bouquets, which address
themselves only to your purse.

There is also the dinner-seeking bouquet, always wishing to
have a cover on your table, — the poor devil of a bouquet, which
says to you, " Invite me."

We must not omit the promiscuous bouquet — the bouquet of
the market-women. It is to fortune, to glory, to high birth, and
every thing which is brilliant, that this bouquet is offered. It is
the bouquet of worthless praise. But not with the less pleasure
do we, on that account, receive it

The servant's, the porter's, the nurse's, the office-boy's bouquets,
are a sort of modest poor, which we must never reject

The political bouquet should be received with consideration,
and should be addressed in a speech. This is the most annoying
of all the bouquets.

It is proper to notice the bouquet which is laid upon the lap of
the octogenarian grandmother; —

Also, the child's bouquet, which it gives to its mother, as it
climbs up her neck ; —

Also, the bouquet for a dear sister's recovery from sickness,
which, as a family, you carry to church, and place for an orna-
ment on the altar of the Virgin ; —

Also, the bouquet which is picked up at the ball, and carefully

302 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

preserved. There are still those who collect these bouquets,
though their number is daily diminishing ; —

Also, the bouquet which we throw to a dancer, — and that
which one gives to his betrothed ; —

And, finally, the bouquet which adorns the coffin of the maiden.

The bouquet is more frequently a falsehood, than a truth — a
pain, than a pleasure. We may rank it among the smaller mise-
ries of human life.

Has it never happened to you, on a summer or winter evening,
to present yourself at the house of some one whom it was your
interest to please, and to whom you would fain appear as polite,
as engaging, and prepossessing as possible 1 You have made your
toilet with unusual care ; you anticipate a kind reception. You
knock, and ask if madam be at home. The wished for " yes " is
spoken, and you enter delighted. To enhance your good fortune,
the mistress of the family is alone. How favorable an opportunity
for slipping in a few words respecting the place in question. We
hardly need mention that the husband is a deputy.

The mantel of the saloon is covered with bouquets of every
hue and size. At the sight a shudder runs through your frame,
and you turn pale. Your protectress — this fairy on whom you
rely, and who has witnessed your embarrassment — hastens to in-
quire, if perfumes make you sick t " It is my birthday," she adds,
" and my friends have literally overwhelmed me with their gifts."

You had actually forgotten it !

He who, to escape from such an embarrassment, could find a

A CHAPTER ON BOUQUETS.. 303

fitting answer, would be superior to Talleyrand. Such a man has
not jet been seen.

Instead of this, you the next day make your position worse, by
sending a huge standful of flowers. Fifty francs thrown away
foolishly enough !

If you are about to be married — if you are paying your ad-
dresses to some heiress — then are you condemned to six months
of expected bouquets.

What imagination so prolific as to vary constantly the daily
gift ! To-day you send roses ; on the morrow, Parmesan violets ;
and the day after, camellias; — but then the days, and the weeks,
and the months to come !

"Charles," says your betrothed to you, "your bouquets are
falling off — you are beginning to repeat them."

Dreadful announcement! for on the success of the bouquet
depends all the happiness of the soiree. And hence, what con-
stant stretch of thought ! What unceasing preoccupation ! You
spend your days at the florist's ; you live with a Damocles-bouquet
suspended over your head.

The affianced is not suited so easily as the wife. Besides all
this, one must know how to present a bouquet. Very few men
are able to acquit themselves handsomely in this.

For the most part, our French knights are stiff, affected, and
devilish troubadourish. A natural and easy manner is seldom
witnessed.

304 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

A man is great in the world, when he knows how to present a
bouquet.

Some are always letting it fall; others are heedless, and sit
down npon it. One finds difficulty in extricating it from his hat ;
while another puts it to his nose before he presents it We might
go on forever, in enumerating the various displays of awkward-
ness and bad taste, that are shown in the simple presentation of a
bouquet.

Observe that young man passing in the street, having in his
hand a packet of oblong shape, carefully enveloped in paper of
brilliant whiteness. He shuns the passengers ; he slips along by
the wall; he runs; he flies. He is out with his first bouquet
"Will she accept it!" is the question that agitates him. Yes,
poor fellow, she will accept it — doubt it not It is Pandora's
bouquet that you have in your hand. From it will come boxes in
the theatre — dinners — parties in the country — silk dresses —
jewels — and all those calamities which the first bouquet brings in
its train. Hear me, young man ! there is time enough yet Tear
the bouquet — destroy it Pass not the threshold of bondage.
But he pays no regard to me. He is gone in. That bouquet has
dragged him into the gulf.

There are those who represent the bouquet as being to the
French woman, what the fan is to the Spanish lady, and who are
diffuse upon that theme. We respect our readers too much to
impose upon them any such commonplaces. We leave these to
those persons who make use of rhetoric, where only observation
is needed. Of all women, it is the French woman to whom the
bouquet is unimportant. It becomes the sentimental gait and the
melancholy faces of the German and the English lady. With the
woman of Italy the bouquet takes part in conversation;— it talks,

A CHAPTER ON BOUQUETS. 305

makes gestures, — now depresses and now raises its head, — at one
time it is full of tenderness, at another, of anger, — it possesses
soul and sensation, — it lives, and is itself the life of the scene.
In the hand of the French lady, what is it but a bouquet — a
mute personage — a sort of automaton, whose motions are regula-
ted by the mechanism of etiquette 1

In France, moreover, the bouquets have a universal air of
ennui. See them at the concert, the exhibition, or the ball — be
they young or old, bachelor or married — no expression but that
of fatigue, appears on their unchanging and monotonous physiog-
nomy. I am no Hoffmann, but I affirm that I have seen, on the
ledge of a box at the opera, bouquets which yawned, and some
that were asleep. The immense bouquet of Madame V . . . . posi-
tively snored.

Long ago the bouquet lost all its sentimental efficacy. With
its philosophical and moral condition in other countries, I am not
acquainted ; but in France, at present, none but the lovers of the
gymnasium seduce women, by slipping letters into their bouquets.

The bouquet is no longer an exile from the household. The
husband has proclaimed its amnesty. We must confess, how-
ever, that the bouquet has ceased to be aught but a myth, a
symbol, an illusion. In the matter of old ideas and sentiments,
let us not be too distrustful Though belief departs, superstition
still remains. Perhaps we who now laugh at the bouquet, may,
one of these days, be seen shedding tears over some long-forgotten
bunch of withered flowers, just recovered from the bottom of the
drawer.

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PERFUMES.

Perfumes have declined from their ancient importance, since
the death of the thirty-two thousand divinities and sub-divinities
of the pagan world.

Perfumes have lost their religious character. Temples and
altars no longer smoke. Scarcely are a few grains of incense
burned in our churches.

. •

The nuptial chamber and the festive hall are no longer per-
fumed. Fountains of fragrant water have ceased to flow at our
public festivals.

In one particular — the love of perfumes — barbarism and high
civilization, paganism and the middle ages, agreed.

The fashionable Greek or Roman would have felt disgraced, if
compelled to appear publicly with his hair, beard, and garments

310 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

unperfumed. The feudal baron would have violated the laws of
hospitality, if his guest, on sitting down to table, or on getting into
bed, had not inhaled the strengthening odor of some perfume.

Chemistry, it is true, had at this time made little progress. A
cluster of rose-bushes, and the fragrant twigs of the neighboring
forest, served all the purposes of the perfumer, and comprised the
whole of his art

Our times have not inherited this taste. Perfumes exist by a
sort of toleration. We make use of them, but we do not ac-
knowledge it

By what strange connection of facts and ideas, has this hypoc-
risy in the matter of perfumes been brought about t

The investigation would lead us too far. Besides, this is not
our theme. We restrict ourselves to the establishing of an actual
fact.

In our day, no one dares acknowledge that he puts pomatum
on his hair. " There is a person who uses pomatum :" the very
phrase is characteristic. Should it be pronounced in regard to
yourself, you may consider yourself classed, ticketed, sentenced.

Only to moisten your handkerchief with a little fragrant water,
is enough to give you an air of foppishness and effeminacy. Yet
in washing and shaving, we still allow the use of perfumed soap.

So much for the men.

Formerly, woman carried her perfumes about her, without feel-
ing that she was committing a fault. She would be redolent of

PERFUMES. 311

the rose, of the jasmine, or the vanilla, according to the fashion.
The entire eighteenth century made use of Iris powder.

To speak to a lady of her perfume — to have the appearance
of perceiving it, even — is to ruin yourself in her esteem, past all
reprieve.

But the flasks and the perfume-cases, you will perhaps tell me,
speak for themselves. Let them speak, but appear as if you did
not hear them.

" Youth, beauty, freshness, are my perfumes ;" such is woman's
thought : " why need you, pitiful fellow that you are, discover that
I smell of the violet or of bergamot V9

»

But in spite of all this, woman cannot dispense with perfumes.
She loves them, and must have them. Accordingly, the art of the
perfumer was never more flourishing. But his whole skill now
consists in dissembling, in veiling, and in disguising his perfumes.
The perfumer of our day distils only paradoxes.

Do you know the story of the breeches of the would-be young
man? One might apply it to perfumery. Make me some per-
fume, but if it have any particular odor, I will not take it

Traditionary perfumes are still found among some respectable
families of the country, and of the Marais.* There are receipts
for making the apricot marmalade, the essence of roses, cherry
brandy, and jasmine pomatum. This is domestic perfumery.

Mothers still believe in pomatums. They have not given up

* Marais, — a portion of Paris bears this name.

312 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

the pleasure of dressing with them their children's hair. This is
an attention which, like the Jasmine in her human life, they love
to render.

The scent-bag is retained still, notwithstanding the general dis-
like that attaches to perfumes. It is something everlasting, like
one's slippers, like embroidered braces, and the Grecian bonnet.
Beware of the scent-bag !

Modern perfumery has carried its love of paradox so far, as to
proscribe all vegetable perfumes. The mineral and the animal
kingdoms have been laid under contribution,, to supply the capri-
cious wants of fashionable women — while the vegetable kingdom
is regarded with contempt. One must be fresh from the colonies;
or from Carpentras,* not to be attacked with frightful spasms, on
merely inhaling the odors of the pink or the tuberose.

Accordingly, the time has come when we are compelled to ex-
claim, that perfumes have departed.

This departure was coincident with the introduction of nerves.
By creating neuralgia, medicine gave the finishing stroke to per-
fume. It is, at present, admitted only as a means of suicide.
Instead of lighting a brasier of charcoal, the self-murderer will
merely place a bouquet of roses on his mantel. Some romance
writers have contrived the death of their heroines, by shutting
them up in a green-house. I am acquainted with a bas-bleu, who
keeps carefully by her a little vial of the essence of roses. When-
ever the cup of disenchantment shall be full, she will merely put
the vial to her nose, and it will be all over with her.

• Carpentras, — a small town among the Cevennes, in the south of France.

PERFUMES. 313

Perfumes are dead : — long live salts ! x

But no : in a cry so anti-national, we will not join. Salts are
the fruit of a foreign invasion. Salts are English. Never will
they bear sway in France.

The salt is brother to ginger, to red pepper, and to Port wine.
It is well enough for splenetic noses, and noses of bad taste. It
is the offspring of dark and stormy climes. Salts make one
sneeze. They are a sort of mineral snuff.

The ladies of France will come back again to the perfume of
flowers. The abuse of the nerves is getting to be sensibly felt
The necessity of returning to hysterics is generally acknowledged.
These, under the old regime, were easily banished by perfumes.

And do not fail to observe, that these nerves, so very sensitive
and delicate, allow you to burn in their presence, little yellow
rolls of a suspicious odor, and strong enough to make a collier's
head ache. It is a fact, that these small rolls are brought from
China, and are manufactured at Pantin *

Let us indulge the hope of soon witnessing the return of those
happy times, when poets celebrated the fragrant steps of woman,
and when sweet odors betrayed her presence.

Would not the choice of a perfume furnish an occasion for
showing more fully her good taste ? There would be the perfume
of the morning, that of mid-day, and that of the evening ; the per-
fume of intimate friendship, and the perfume of the world; a

• Pantin, — a town in France.

40 •

314 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

perfume for the boudoir, and one for the street ; the cheerful and
the melancholy perfume. There would be the wall-colored per-
fame of the rendezvous, and the perfume of constancy, wfakh is
invariably the same.

By the suppression of perfumes, woman has lost more than she
is aware of. Without them no toilet can be complete. They are
the animated and sprightly soul of elegance, creating around
woman an atmosphere like that of a goddess, which seems to
remove her from the earth. The senses have their souvenirs as
well as the affections. Why should not the nose — I ask pardon
for introducing a word so often ridiculed — why should not the
nose, also, have its poetry ? You who remember the texture of
the fair one's dress— the sound of her voice— the hue of her
gloves — the color of her eyes, and the shape of her hat, — have
you forgotten her perfume, if she used one 1 — and if she made no
such use, do you not regret that you have not this additional
means of calling her to mind t

The only genuine perfume is that of flowers. All others belong
more or less to pharmacy. Let the women of France leave salts
to the pale devotees of soda-water. They have indeed banished
flowers, — but the flowers cherish no resentment Roses, lilies,
jessamines, violets, and tuberoses, are ready again to pour out
their best blood in the cause of repenting beauty.

J',

r

*.

r

4

^
4

FABLE.

THE SCABIOUS AND THE MARIGOLD.

As she sat under the shade of the weeping willow, the Mari-
gold cast a dissatisfied look over the meadow. "All the flowers/9
said she, " are happy — while I am solitary, neglected, and desert-
ed, without one to pity me."

As she thus bewailed her condition, she noticed in the footpath
a young Scabious, who, as she walked, led her two little ones by
the hand.

" It is the Scabious who lives at the foot of the hill. She lost
her husband yesterday. There is a widow, with two children,
who ought to be as sad as I am. I have no doubt that she will go
out of her way, to avoid meeting me/9

As she said this, the Marigold sighed profoundly. The Sca-
bious, who was chatting as she walked with her two poor orphans,
heard the sigh, and raised her head.

" Is it you who sigh so ?" said she to the Marigold, in a gentle
voice.

316 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"Who else should it be !" rudely replied the Marigold. "Have
I not reason for sighing V9

" In what respect more than others ?" said the Scabious. " In
this vale of tears, must not every one have his share of grief t
To lessen our sorrows, we should engage in duty. I should have
been wretched indeed/ had not my husband, by dying, devolved
on me the care of these helpless children. They in a sense
reattach me to life. It is for their sakes that I live/'

" They will despise you when they shall no longer need your
care. Children are ungrateful"

" Have you ever been married V

" Never."

" What friends have you t"

" I wish for no friends : they are all selfish."

" Do you love your species t"

"No — because they hate me."

" I pity you for indulging such feelings. But I am not surprised
at them. You choose to live alone. Listen to me. Give up
your misanthropy. If you wish for happiness, throw open your
own heart to that of a friend."

Loneliness embitters care.*

* Le Souci, care, is also the Marigold.

THE TEAFFIC IN FLOWERS.

I never pass a flower-market, without feelings of the most
painful sort I fancy myself in a slave-bazaar at Cairo or Con-
stantinople. The flowers represent the slaves.

Here are the rich who come to haggle for them. They scru-
tinize, Handle, and examine them, to ascertain whether they be
sufficiently young, healthful, and handsome. The bargain is con-
cluded. Follow, poor flower, thy master. Administer to his
pleasures, and adorn his seraglio. Thou wilt occupy a splendid
apartment, and wilt be clad in a beautiful porcelain robe, with a
handsome mantle of moss. But to the sun, to the air, and to
freedom, bid adieu ! Thou art a slave.

Poor flowers ! how they heap you, one upon another, exposed
to wind, and dust, and all the severities of the weather. Some
wayfarer stops to look at you. Now hold up your heads, poor
flowers, and play the coquette. For this the merchant brought
you to the bazaar ; upon you he depends for his gains.

Most of them bend over on their stalks — they look languid,
weak, faded. The fatigues of long travel, and the tediousness of

S

318 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

captivity, are revealed in their pale leaves. What does it concern
them to look handsome ? Before evening, they will have passed
under the control of some unknown master. 1

Fortunate, then, are those which some young, industrious arti-
san takes home to adorn her room in the attic. At least, they
will never more suffer the want of water or of air. Upon the
border of the roof there is a little spot, on which the sun shines
as it rises, and where you may hear the distant song of the birds
which traverse the air at early dawn. When the birds cease, the
grisette begins to sing. The flower cannot be unhappy — she
lives with her sister.

Happy, also, the flower which arrested, this morning, the atten-
tion of that fair, imaginative young girl, who was leaning on her
mother's arm. It will be conveyed to the garden, and planted
under its mistress' window. At night it will mingle its delicate
perfumes with her virgin dreams. During the day it will hear her
sigh while, bending down, she indistinctly murmurs some name in
its flower-cup. I pity not thee, beautiful flower, — thou art with
thy friend.

But for you, poor wretches, whom some trader has purchased

S to adorn his counter, who can describe your disgust in that heavy

atmosphere of the shop \ Poor flowers, so sensitive, so delicate,

so nervous — who can recount your sufferings, when you shall be

enveloped in the dense vapors of the smoking-room t

And you, fleeting guests of the palace,— -flowers selected for the
festal night, — you are not purchased, but hired; instead of being
slaves, ye are only domestics. You line, as with a hedge, the path
of the fair guests. With the valets, you are banished to the ante-
chamber— and there, under your robes of thin gauze, you shiver

j

THE TRAFFIC IN FLOWERS. 319

as yon stand exposed to every current of air. After about eight
days of such a life as this, you will die of pulmonary, consumption

Well, even your lot seems to me happier than that of this
flower, which, in a moment of caprice, a certain great lady has
purchased. She will bestow on it, perhaps, a single look, and then
she will abandon it to the attentions of a pack of heedless ser-
vants. Often have flowers perished for want of a single glass of
water, a single ray of light Alas ! the flowers have no voice to
speak their griefs— they can only bow their heads and die.

To tear away a flower from its natal clime,— to separate it
from its family and friends, and to expose it to sale, — is not this
the crime of insulted sensibility !

The trade in human flesh has been suppressed. Let us petition
the chambers to suppress that in flowers. We should succeed,
were we living now in the age of the friends of nature. But, alas !
they departed with Jean Jacques Rousseau and Bernardin de
Saint-Pierre.

The friends of nature, did I say ! Ah ! they have much to
answer for in regard to the flowers. It was they who introduced
the practice of botanizing, and set the fashion of herbariums.

Before the album came, the herbarium had its day. From the
child of twelve years to the woman of forty, each had her book
of plants, as now she has her album. It was usual to make up
botanizing parties, just as now we have parties into the country.
You could not step out to the fields, without meeting folks who
brandished a scalpel or a pair of scissors. Ladies, who would
have fainted away at seeing a flesh-worm crushed, — men, who on
the same morning had written whole chapters, and made long

S

S

320 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

harangues, on the cruelty shown to the poor blacks, — made
nothing of scalping, snipping, and flaying alive, white daisies and
innocent lilies of the valley. They plucked the leaves out, one
by one, — they plunged a dagger into the corolla, — they severed
the body into three or four parts, — inflicting upon them all sorts
of torture and of martyrdom, in order, as they said, " to penetrate
the secrets of nature." Then, it was always nature ; now, is only
a question of science ! Women, it is true, no longer interfere, —
but the same crime is committed still, and all for the love of science!
If you attempt to speak a word in behalf of plants, they cry out
against you as a barbarian— as an enemy to improvement— as
one who would arrest the victorious march of science — and as
being willing to carry back the human mind to those dark times
when anatomical dissection was punished as sacrilege. Dissec-
tion, indeed ! Must we, to satisfy the demands of anatomy, allow
surgeons to take the living, and kill them, and then convey them
to the medical college X Do not plants and flowers live as really
as men \ Do you not see, cruel friends of science, that you are
abominable stranglers ? If the daisy could only cry out, you
would be compelled to throw over its head a pitch-plaster.

Collect in the morning the dead ones of the meadow. Alas !
storms, insects, heat, and the shepherd's wooden shoe, make vic-
tims in abundance. The post mortem examination is allowed
you. But respect the living !

We did not intend to treat of the bondage to which flowers
are subjected. An indignant feeling has drawn from us this com-
plaint. But then we do not wander far from our subject, while
we dwell on the condition into which flowers have been brought
by human laws.

The traffic in flowers is, in our day, an acknowledged fact

THE TRAFFIC IN FLOWERS. 321

The government allows and encourages it Every year it fits out,
under the name of voyagers from the Garden of Plants, a descrip-
tion of corsairs, which sail up and down every coast, making
descents upon the shore, and expeditions into the interior of dif-
ferent countries, and bringing away captive all the flowers upon
which they can lay their hands. These flowers they transport to
France, — they give them a home in the king's garden, and estab-
lish them in families. The flowers thus become acclimated, and
have offspring. But as soon as the children arrive at a certain
age, the government removes them from their mother's care, and
sells or gives them to individuals.

This is dreadful. When, alas! will the flowers find their
Wilberforce 1

Ah, unfortunate flowers ! As I was crossing, the other day, the
Place Madeleine, I saw a beautiful lily, which an old man was
cheapening.

The flower seemed to suffer in its feelings, in consequence of
being so stared at. At times, something like a shudder ran over
its stem, and its white head was thrown back in disdain. This
was when the old man touched it.

I looked tenderly at the lily. I thought I saw a tear trembling
in its calyx, while the flower seemed thus to address me :

" Buy me, and let me not fall into the hands of this man. Alas!
what will become of me ? I am frightened when he looks at me ;
I tremble when he touches me. If I am compelled to follow him,
I shall die."

" I will save thee !" I exclaimed ; " I will save thee !"

41

322 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

The old purchaser looked at me with astonishment He then
made a sign to his domestic, who carried off the flower. I spoke
to the seller; it was too late — he had received the price of the
slave.

I followed the flower until it reached the gate of its new abode.
Though at a distance, it thanked me, with a smile sweet and
resigned.

I watched it till it disappeared.

On the next day I placed myself before the hotel, to see if I
could get tidings from my poor lily. A servant just then threw
into the street a withered flower.

How many flowers have perished in the same way !

\

\

1

BARCAROLLE

THE WATER-ARROW.

Speed on, my bark ; cleave the rapid stream. From the oppo-
sing bank she calls me : I hear the voice of my protectress.

So sang the fisherman, as, bending to his oar, he cleft the wave,
and left behind him a furrow of silver light His boat flew on
like a swallow. Already the willows on the bank displayed to
him their green tresses. The fisherman redoubled his exertions.
But suddenly it seemed that his vessel, no longer observant of the
oar, was gently drawn in another direction. At the same moment
the moon shone out In the midst of the rushes he saw slowly
rise, a beautiful woman— and thus she sung:—

" Whither bound, young fisherman ! Listen : I am the White
Water-queen. On the shore there is nothing but delusion. Fol-
low the current, which wafts thee toward me. I will show thee
the way that leads to my azure kingdom and crystal palace. Dost
thou not know me T At night I lull thee to sleep by the murmur
of my sighs, as they die away upon the shore. It is my fresh
breath which thou dost inhale in the morning, when thou steppest
from thy cottage. See, of its own accord thy bark is drawing
near me. Let it come, fisherman; follow the current which
impels thee."

324 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Pale with terror, the fisherman kept silent The unhappy man
had approached that mysterious spot where, amid a thousand
aquatic plants, the Water-arrow grows. Those boatmen who
have listened to her invitation, have never returned to their vil-
lage, but have been found far away upon the shore, smitten with
many wounds. The lying goddess had pierced them with her
darts.

These stories occurred to the mind of the fisherman; — but
still the water-spirit sang, — an involuntary fascination deprived
him of his strength, — and he was on the point of abandoning his
oar.

Suddenly his name, three times repeated, resounded from the
shore. " Shoot on, my bark !" cried the re-encouraged fisherman ;
" cleave the rapid stream. From the opposing bank she calls me :
I hear the voice of my protectress."

He moves away from the danger ; and the water-spirit disap-
pears, leaving behind a white, silvery circle on the wave.

THE LOST FLOWERS.

The ancients, more favored than we are, knew many floweft
which have disappeared, and of which not a trace remains. In
suppressing these, nature undoubtedly intended to chastise us, for
the languor of our devotion to her. Man's convenience and
pleasures have been sensibly diminished by the loss of plants pos-
sessing so many beauties and virtues. To the sellers, for instance,
of ices and lemonades, what a misfortune that we no longer pos-
sess the coracesia, — that flower which, according to there presenta-
tion of Pythagoras, would cause water to congeal. Then there
was the aprozis, which took fire at the least touch, and might have
answered instead of the French and German chemical matches ;
and the baaras, the fragrant wax-light of Mount Lebanon. Jose-
phus informs us that the long stem of the baaras kindled, at even-
ing, of its own accord, and burned till daylight without wasting.
How delightful if, instead of our dull reflectors, and jets of me-
phitic gas, our streets were lighted up by double rows of beautiful,
blazing trees ! Why can we no longer find the seeds of the
baaras?

Wives, who sigh for offspring, and trust to the virtues of some

326 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

nauseous, sulphur eted spring — and old men, who try in vain to
resist the ravages of time — had you but a branch of that famous
dudatrn, which made women fruitful, and men perpetually young,
but which, unfortunately, was never known to bloom, except in
the writings of the Hebrews !

The aehemys, did it still exist, would resolve, more effectually
than railroads, the problem of universal peace. The aehemys had
the property of putting to flight all who touched it Who could
think of maintaining war against a weapon that could disperse
opposing armies, and prevent them from rallying !

There will always be some who will regret the loss of the
nepenthe, the flower that brought consolation, by inducing forget-
fulness — and not less the moly, which had the property of instan-
taneously restoring the memory. Circe administered a strong
dose of nepenthe to the companions of Ulysses; and the latter
restored them, by making them promptly swallow a counter-dose
of moly.

We must not leave the sylphion unnoticed. At the time of
flowering, this plant discharges from its stem a precious resin,
which, when dried and reduced to powder, can cure all maladies,
— even the colic and the toothache. Such is Pliny's testimony.
It was in Cyrene that this universal remedy was cultivated.
Caesar, departing from Cyrene, left to his lieutenants the public
moneys, reserving to himself the supply of sylphion, kept as an
article of the highest value, among the same moneys.

We may remind epicures of the borahmez, which so exactly
resembled a lamb. It stood on four stems, was covered with a
white fleece, and had woolly leaves, which looked like the ears
and tail. At the slightest incision, a red juice, like blood, issued

THE LOST FLOWERS. 327

from the plant ; while its pulp had the rosy and veiny aspect of
real flesh. If placed before the fire, it immediately diffused
through the air the delicious odor of roasted mutton. In those
countries where the borahmez grew, travellers had no occasion to
take provisions for their journey. History has not given the name
of that fortunate region, where they used to raise these vegetable
cutlets. It should be the land of Cocaigne, already famous for its
antiquity.

The ancients had also a flower which rendered love perpetual,
and one which produced mirth. For the last, the moderns believe
that they have a substitute in the hadchihz.

The flower which sings, was in existence during the middfe
ages. Albert the Great declares that he had heard it. In calm
summer nights, amid the stillness of nature, a pure, melodious
voice, whose notes went up towards heaven, would suddenly
vibrate on the ear. It was the mandragora which thus chanted
its nocturnal strains. Those who heard it, felt emotions which
they could not express. Their hearts beat with pleasing violence,
and tears of tenderness suffused their eyes. Sometimes the
nightingale endeavored to vie with the mandragora. But soon
the charm would act upon herself; her trills would gradually be-
come tamer; her voice would grow weak; till at length she
would cease, and only listen to her triumphant rival. The voice
of the mandragora brought good fortune to those whose ears it
had once entered. Through the rest of their lives they would
hear it resounding from the depths of their souls. It was poetry
that had spoken to them.

Summer nights are still serene; nightingales still fill the air
with their melodious strains ; but, alas ! the mandragora is heard
on earth no more !

GUZLA.

THE CYPRESS

When a boy, I used to seat myself under thy shade, and my
spirit would follow the flight of the doves, as they winged their
way towards the Bosphorus, until, with them, it lost itself in the
azure heavens.

Now I approach with step slow and weary ; with difficulty I
stretch my limbs along the ground ; my spirit no longer soars with
the doves. The boy has become an old man.

Still, beautiful cypress, thoudost lend me thy shade. Thy
trunk, erect yet flaring, gives me support. Here I behold the
tomb of my father, and the spot where I shall be laid.

Like the true believer's prayer, the cypress rises erect towards
heaven. We can imagine that the voice of those we have loved,
is speaking to us from its murmuring branches.

Long have we been acquainted, aged cypress. Daily I come to
smoke near thee my fragrant narghile, and to dream as I shake
out my long rosary. Thou knowest all my thoughts. Thou
canst tell whether I am afraid to die.

THE CYPRESS. 329

So far from that, I love thee for making me think of it. To
the man who has lived long, what thought can be more agreeable
than that of death ?

Oh ! when will my spirit be permitted to fly far away, — far
beyond the doves, that speed their flight towards the Bosphorus, —
higher far than the minarets of Saint Sophia, — above*the clouds,
and the blue firmament itself!

There eternal felicity awaits us. Come, then, angel of death,
knock at my door. The old man is ready to go.

Breezes that murmur in the cypress, reveal to me the moment
of my deliverance. How often have I come to ask you this, but
you give me no reply.

42

CRITICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL LETTER

FROM

DOCTOR JACOBUS

TO

THE AUTHOR.

"Sir,—

" Forgetting the consideration which you owe to a man of my
dignity, you have taken the liberty to make me not only figure in
your book, but play a part there which my elevated position does
not allow me to accept. You pretend that the Pansy, in her
wanderings, was entertained at my house, and in gratitude for the
favor, made knotvn to me the language of flowers. If you will
believe it, I was very much surprised by this discovery. For
what, sir, do you take me ?

"You ought, sir, to know that all truly philosophic minds, in
our day, have for a long time regarded the pretended language of
flowers, as childish and trifling — mere humbug. Only great minds,
like mine, can rise to the conception which perfectly explains the
moral signification of flowers. This conception is universal
analogy.

LETTER FROM DOCTOR JACOBUS. 331

" Nature, sir, has created images of our passions in certain ani-
mals and flowers. The viper represents slander ; the dog, fidelity ;
while the misletoe is an emblem of the parasite. Such are the
symbolic relations which establish conditions of analogy between
man and the rest of creation. Thus to speak of plants only: —
each of them is a faithful mirror of our sentiments and our pas-
sions. A flower-garden is a museum, wrhere our virtues and vices
live anew, in animated and blooming tableaux.

" The science which elucidates these resemblances, is analogy,
or comparative physiology. The ancients had some glimpses of
this method. Every inanimate thing, and flowers, especially, con-
tained some allusion to things animate. But the ancients lost
sight of realities, only to wander in a world of fiction. They
were poets, but could not reason analogically or psychologically.

"You have followed, step by step, the path of the ancients.
You have not only stopped short of the present advanced notions,
but you have committed great mistakes, because you have not
recurred to the principles of universal analogy.

" Permit me, sir, to adduce a few examples.

" In your language of flowers, so called, I read that the orange-
blossom represents marriage. This has been written and repeated
for ages. No young woman would think herself well and truly
married, if, on the wedding-day, she had not worn a wreath of
orange-blossoms. All this I well know, — but what connection is
there between this flower and marriage ? One may compose, on
this theme, as you have tried to do, ever so much poetry — but
what of that ! Poetry will not furnish a key to this mystery.
Have recourse to analogy, and you will at once ascertain the plant
that symbolizes marriage.

1

332 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" The melancholy aspect of the large, black-spotted iris, must
have often struck you. Blending richness with sameness, it makes
a proud display of its sombre hues. Is not this the emblem of
those royal marriages, which are celebrated with so much splen-
dor, but which afterwards waste slowly enough away, in monotony
and ennui ? Happy unions, on the contrary, are represented by
the blue, the yellow, and the butterfly iris.

" Two corollas appear in succession on the iris. The second
comes only after the first has faded. Here is imaged the tie
which sometimes unites an old man with a young woman. The
age of happiness is just beginning for the one — just ending for
the other.

" The receptacle of the stamens, resembling a caterpillar, re-
minds us of the sordid calculations which too often influence
those who marry. The leaf of the common iris is crumpled — a
token of the wretchedness that prevails in humble establishments;
and it terminates in a dry point, as if to indicate how unprofitable
are the efforts of poverty.

" You see, sir, how conclusive is the analogic reasoning, which
makes the iris, and not the orange, the flower of marriage. But
I proceed still farther to expose your sophisms.

" The rose, according to you, represents beauty. This is an
egregious error, and shows your judgment to be exceedingly
slavish and superficial. The rose is the bashfulness of youth.

" It has all the hues of that tender age. The cool, moist spots
which it loves, are symbolic of the freshness of youth. Its per-
fume is an aroma, that delightfully intoxicates, like the affection
which a young girl inspires. The rose is most pleasing, when

LETTER FROM DOCTOR JACOBUS. 833

but half expanded,— and so is budding innocence preferable to
full-grown beauty.

"In your flower-language, the word disdain answers to the
pink. What have they in common ? The pink falls down and
drags to the ground its elegant stem. It requires some friendly
hand to support it ; and an osier wand, called a prop, is set for it
to lean on. The petals of the pink burst through their envelope,
and come out in disorder. The hand of man is required to break
the barriers of the calyx, and by an ingenious contrivance, to aid
the development of the petals, — and the flower then becomes
beautiful. Have we not in this, a most graceful symbol of
maternity ?

"And the lily, monsieur — what have you done with that? In-
deed ! one can hardly believe it. You make it the synonyme of
majesty. Let us note the characteristic qualities of the flower.
Its stem is erect and strong, and it is surrounded with small,
graceful leaves. Thus the man of truth moves proudly yet com-
posedly, surrounded by evidences of the esteem, which his good
conduct commands. The corolla of the lily is triangular, and it has
no calyx. So truth never hides itself, and so the just man shuns
all mystery. Its bulbous root is open on all sides, and allows the
interior to be seen. The man of truth, by the air of candor
which he wears, attracts, at first, everybody to him ; though many,
having once come into contact, take good care afterwards to keep
out of his way. The lily soils, with its yellow powder, those
whom the attraction of its perfume had drawn towards it Truth
cannot exist in solitude. The rich and the fashionable, and
women, especially, are afraid of it. So the lily is never presented
in bouquets— never finds a place in the saloon. It is banished to
some remote corner of the flower-garden. The lily only appears
at public festivals. It is employed in adorning the statues of

334 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

saints, and it is put into the hands of children. So truth is to be
found only on infant lips, or in heaven itself

"Here, then, altogether, are four important articles — marriage,
beauty, truth, and maternity — which you take no account of. Let
us now see whether your flower-language will better explain the
article, poverty.

"The box-tree is found growing on arid and barren soil — like
the poor man who is reduced to some miserable hut You may
see insects swarming about the box, as about a poor fellow, who
has no means of keeping them off. Like the wretch who pa-
tiently endures privations, and sticks to his wretched hut, so the
box braves the severity of the seasons, while it firmly plants itself
in the miserable soil to which it is condemned. For the indigent
there is no enjoyment Nature displays this fact, by depriving the
flower of petals, which are emblems of pleasure. Its fruit resembles
a kettle overturned — thus betokening the poor man's kitchen. Its
hollow, spoon-shaped leaf, formed to catch a drop of water, re-
minds you of the poor beggar's palm, stretched to receive a
pittance from the compassionate. Its wood, close-grained and
knotty, and the fetid oil which flows from it, are figurative of the
hard, uncomfortable life which he leads, who is subject to ill-
health. This plant you have called stoicism. Would not poverty
be a far more appropriate appellation t

" In the case of the misletoe, you have preserved the true signi-
fication. The misletoe is truly a parasite — but if I were to ask
you in what respect, could you tell me t 'Tis because the mis-
letoe, living on the sap of other plants, grows equally on its own
and others' nutriment. So the intriguer assumes all sorts of
masks, and every kind of position. The leaf of the misletoe rep-
resents duplicity ; and the birds which are taken in its ensnaring

LETTER FROM DOCTOR JACOBUS. 335

lime, do but image those blockheads, who are caught by the flat-
teries of the parasite.

"In order to give such an explanation, one must have been
initiated in the principles of universal analogy. I feel for you, sir,
in your ignorance, and shall proceed to lay down the axioms of
this sublime science. Soon, you will be able to advance boldly in
the way which I shall open before you.

" The form, color, habits, and properties of the plant, with its
roots and seeds, are the elements with which we begin.

" The root is an emblem of those general principles which re-
sult from the character.

" The stem is an emblem of the course which it pursues.

" The leaf is emblematical of the kind of work to which the
character devotes itself, and of the class to which it belongs.

" The calyx is an emblem of the form, and of the influences
which operate on the character.

" The petals are emblems of the particular pleasure which be-
longs to the exercise of the character.

" The pistils and stamens are emblematic of the results which
this pleasure produces.

" The seed is an emblem of hoarded treasure — the fragrance —
of that particular charm which flows from the character.

"Recapitulating, then, we give it thus: root, character; stem,

336 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

direction ; leaf, work ; petal, pleasure ; calyx, external influences ;
pistil, product ; seed, treasure ; fragrance, charm.

"How many mistakes you might have avoided by consulting
me, before entering on your work. But you chose rather to turn
me into ridicule. Had you been armed with the torch-light of
analogy, every shadow would have fled before you. For you, in
that case, the great book of nature would no longer have con-
tained a secret or a doubt. Are you not ashamed of being so
grossly deceived in regard to the meaning of some of our most
common flowers — such, for instance, as the rose, the lily, and the
pink 1 To these, how many others might I add ? I select the
balsamine. The finely toothed and symmetrically scolloped
leaves of this plant are an emblem of labor. A tuft of leaves
surmounts the flowers, as the earnings of labor should exceed
one's expenses. As one may make a brilliant appearance
without becoming impoverished, — so the balsamine produces
many bright flowers, which are continually renewed. Persons
who possess this sort of prudence are ambitious and selfish. So
the analogical balsamine imparts nothing to man. You cannot
pluck its leaves individually, because they have no stem ; nor can
you do it collectively, on account of the encumbering foliage.
You can make no use of it as an ornament It is a plant which,
like the miserly rich man, lives only for self. The man of wealth
knows how to make himself, like the balsamine, necessary to
others, without making himself beloved by them. He plants him-
self in all the avenues to greatness, — and so the balsamine takes
its place in the most frequented portions of the flower-garden,
where, scentless though it is, and pleasing to no one, it yet plays a
conspicuous part. Blooming late in autumn, k reminds us of
those hoarders of money, who cling to business as long as they
can, and then leave their estates to dissipated heirs; — just as the
seeds of the balsamine slip from the hand, when one plucks it ;

"1

/

LETTER FROM DOCTOR JACOBUS. 337

without proper care. This flower, which so strongly reminds us
of selfishness, you have made the emblem of impatience. What
carelessness !

" I think it is the hortensia which, in your flower-language, you
make the emblem of carelessness. And have you, then, never
noticed minutely a specimen of the hortensia 1 You should have
seen that this plant has more flowers than leaves ; that it sacrifices
every thing to ornament. Its huge bunches of flowers fatigue the
eye, like excessive display in dress. Its scanty leaves the hortensia
hides under a mass of half-shaded, scentless flowers, — as coquettes
conceal their really good qualities beneath a multitude of false
notions. The hortensia is a flower which, like the balsamine, we
never pluck. And is not coquetry individual selfishness? If
severed from the stem, the hortensia withers. Too large for
bouquets, it looks well only when placed in a rich vase, and in the
centre of a saloon, — like the coquette, who is happy only when
she is in public. It is destitute of fragrance — and so the coquette
dazzles the eye, without interesting the heart. As luxury ruins
the coquette, so that golden star, the sun, destroys the hortensia.
The hortensia fades after a short brilliancy, — and the coquette,
impoverished by her expensive follies, loses, as life advances, her
fascinating power. With advancing years, she becomes at length
a prude. So also the hortensia, at the close of the season, turns
brown ; it grows tough, wrinkled, and dry, and looks repulsive and
disagreeable. Where can you find an emblem of coquetry more
striking, or better sustained X Will you do me the favor to point
out what this has in common with the day-lily 1 In the case of
the hortensia, you stop at the time of the Empire, which made
of it only a ridiculous emblem. So, on the strength, I am sure,
merely of its name, you find in the crown imperial, a symbol of
Napoleon ; while, in reality, it is, according to analogy, the unap-
preciated philosopher.

338 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

" I have thus far, in what I have written, conformed to estab-
lished usage ; but I protest against the nomenclatures adopted by
all naturalists down to the present tin e. These gentlemen have
almost invariably applied the genders in opposition to the sense.
I maintain, for instance, that the pink, the hortensia, and the lily,
being representatives of those feminine ideas, maternity, coquetry,
and truth, should be given as feminine nouns, — while the balsa-
mine * being nothing but selfishness, should be masculine

" Had I been in your position, sir, I should have attempted this
reform. But then to have done so, would have been to assail
vulgar prejudices and notions — and these you would flatter rather
than correct You have gone to sleep on the soft pillow of suc-
cess. Accordingly, the book which you have produced is super-
ficial, incomplete, and wholly destitute of a philosophic spirit
You have committed a kind of sacrilege, by laying your impious
hand on the sacred unities of the creation, — dividing that which
should be forever united, and severing things which should be in-
separable. You have written a book on flowers, without one
word upon fruits and vegetables.

" Flowers suppose fruits, and fruits lead directly to vegetables.
Fruits and vegetables have analogous relations to our sentiments,
not less abundant than those of flowers. I begin with vegetables
— those parias, if I may so call them, of the present organization
— and from them I select the most obscure of them all — the
family of roots. These will shed floods of light upon the subject,
and prove themselves worthy of the exalted rank which moral
science assigns to them. This humble family — the beet, the
carrot, the parsnip, the salsify and celery — 'constitute/ says a

* Ud ceil let, an hortensia, an lia— une balsamine.

LETTER FROM DOCTOR JACOBUS. 33$

great philosopher, whom I quote literally, ' a nursery of beautiful
analogies/ Together, they represent the whole body of .agricul-
tural laborers. Each one of these vegetables is allied to the par-
ticular class which it represents. The large turnip is found on
the table of the substantial husbandman. The smaller turnip,
less rustic, is the guest of the first-rate farmer, who deals with
great folks — as the same turnip, by means of a particular cook-
ing, may be found figuring on distinguished tables.

"The carrot represents the experimental farmer, — a character
whose usefulness has been abundantly proved. Accordingly, the
carrot is a valuable vegetable, in use among cooks, doctors, and
confectioners. The tops make a wholesome fodder; and the
root, when roasted, is a seasoning for soups. The sharp taste of
celery is suggestive of those country loves, those tender engage-
ments, in which peasant boys and girls carry on a sort of boxing
courtship.

" The crisp leaf of the beet is emblematic of the laborer's hard
toil. The grotesque leaf of the turnip, large and superior, bears
sway over many inferior follicles. It is an image of the village
patriarch, — comical in his importance and his simplicity, — exact-
ing the homage and engrossing the offices of the whole community.

"Again, what fruitful subjects of study and reflection are fur-
nished us in fruits. The cherry, like a mirror, gives back to us
the freedom and the happiness of childhood. Among children it
produces the effects of which it is a representative. The arrival
of a basket of cherries is a joyful event to all the little folks, for
whom this fruit is very wholesome. The cherry is a plaything
furnished by nature to the child. With it he makes garlands and
ear-drops ; and with it he crowns himself, as old Silenus used to
do with vine-leaves. The tree is analogous to the disposition and

340 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

to the tasks of infancy. It is scantily supplied with leaves. Iu
straggling branches make but little shade, and keep off neither sun
nor rain — emblem of that infant weakness which can furnish no
one either shelter or protection.

" Must I show to you, in the gooseberry, the fruit * des en/ants
terriblesV There is something pleasant in it — just as truth,
though uttered indiscreetly, is always graceful and amusing from
the lips of children. This part ' d'enfant terrible/ is not without
its advantages. 'Castigat ridendo;' it laughs while it chastises.
Accordingly, the red gooseberry is slightly cathartic, But to de-
velop all its excellence, it must be mingled with sugar. And so
must children, who are too free to speak, wear off their rudeness
in contact with education,

" Is not the grape the. kindliest of vegetable productions t Is
not wine a true friend to man? See the vine embracing our.
trees and our houses, and forming connections with every thing
that is about it. It cannot exist without attaching itself to some-
thing. Where will you find aught more analogous to friendship ?

" But it is time to stop, I have written enough, I trust, to con-
vince you of the imperfections, not to say capital mistakes, appa-
rent in your work. You but imperfectly comprehend the language
of flowers, — while of that which belongs to fruits and vegetables,
you have not the slightest notion. Your book is two hundred
years behind the times. Blush, sir, to think that you have lived
to this day, unacquainted with the science of cpmparative
psychology — that is, of analogy — and endeavor to attain it

" In conclusion, I beg you, by no means, to regard me as your
humble servant, or to rank me in the number of your subscribers.

w Jacobus."

REPLY TO DOCTOR JACOBUS. 341

THE AUTHOR'S REPLY TO DOCTOR JACOBUS.

u Doctor: —

" We have never pretended that we are composing a philosoph-
ical work. The public manifest, in general, a marked repug-
nance tob philosophy. We limited ourselves to flowers, deeming
the subject sufficiently comprehensive. As to fruits and vegeta-
bles, they may come up in their turn. Who knows but that
Grandville may take the fancy to personify them also ?

u We have not ventured upon the science of analogy, because
it seemed to us a serious matter, to strip the flowers of their old,
symbolic meanings, and to disturb those allegoric interpretations,
which have been so long and so generally received. We were
reluctant to rebel against all tradition, and thus to revolutionize
the peaceful empire of floral mythology. Hereafter, perhaps, we
may endeavor to bring quietly about, those changes and reforms
which the flowers require. After the tenth edition of our work
shall have been issued, there will be nothing to prevent us from
establishing a new basis, according to the rules of analogy and
comparative psychology.

"We will do justice, sir, to this new science, whose inventor
you do not name, though your analogies are copied from his
works. We do not blame you for being so faithfully exact No
variety or splendor of imagery, no pomp of style, could add aught
to those ingenious and delightful descriptions, which Fourier has
sketched with a seeming carelessness and indifference, that en-
hance their beauty and their fidelity. After yourself and Fourier,

S42 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

we have given the rules of analogy. But it is woman who
should devote herself to this study. Fourier expressly commends
it to her attention, putting it, as it were, under her protection.
With such support, analogy must certainly triumph.

" Let us hope, meanwhile, notwithstanding your criticisms, that
the public, more indulgent than yourself, will kindly regard our
labors, and by its eager approval, relieve us from the mortification
which we so naturally feel, at not being able to count you among
our subscribers."

ELEGIE,

THE WOUNDED FLOWER

The morning dews made me blow, and I expanded just as the
sun rose.

Now I am about to die.

A young girl was passing me this morning, and stopped to look
at me. She seemed to me so handsome, that I smiled upon her.

While she passed caressingly her hand over my leaves, a
thrill of joy ran through me. But, in a moment after, an acute
pain struck me to the heart; and, half broken, I hung down on
my stem.

Why, young maiden, didst thou not pluck me off at once!
Then, instead of this long agony, I should have been resting, at
peace, in thy virgin bosom.

The blood oozes from my wound ; a mortal coldness blanches
my leaves j my corolla is closing; scarcely can I now hear the

S44 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

sweet murmur of the breeze among the leaves. The birds no
longer sing; the sun has disappeared from my view. Sisters,
dear sisters, is it night already t

No : it is death which is spreading over me its shade. No
more shall I behold the sparkling stars ; no more spread open my
corolla, a perfumed casket, to receive the diamonds of the dew.
My mortal remains will soon strew the ground ; and my soul, as-
cending to heaven, will leave behind it only its fragrant trail.

My ghost, young girl, will appear to thee. It will reproach
thee for thy carelessness and cruelty. Remorse will become my
avenger. But no; I forgive thee. Mayest thou, on thy part,
never feel what I, a wounded flower, endure !

CROWNS AND GARLANDS.

We have treated of bouquets; — some notice must be taken of
crowns. Why not, also, take advantage of the occasion, to dis-
cuss briefly the question of garlands ?

The subject will be quickly exhausted. Who, at the present
day, wears crowns ? Of what use are garlands ?

It is unnecessary to say, that we treat only of those crowns
and garlands which are formed of flowers. Those which are
composed of leaves, are still greatly used in adorning the brows
of laureates, and the walls of saloons on festive occasions.
There can be no proper distribution of prizes, without laurel
crowns — no happy nuptials, without garlands of leaves.

The Romans, and still more, the Greeks, worshipped flowers.
Did a man make his appearance at the circus, in the academy, the
theatre, or any place of public resort, without his crown, he was
set down for a fool. Then, one was no more allowed to appear
in public without his crown, than now he is to go without his hat.

41

346 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

With the bald, crowns took the place of wigs. Accordingly,
all the philosophers wore them. Socrates himself never failed to
bind his brow with flowers. Caesar, having become bald at the
age of thirty, owed to a crown the advantage of long concealing
this defect from the Roman fair. We know that Anacreon, at
the age of eighty, used to adorn himself with a wreath of roses.

When crowns were in fashion, there was no such thing as old
age. With flowers upon their brows, and long, flowing robes,
they were perpetually young. Indeed, the ancients had no con-
ception of that shaking, suffering, coughing, wrinkled, shrivelled
creature, which we call an old man.

Need I speak of Alcibiades, who changed his crown three
times a day, and who employed the first head-dresser in Athens to
come and put it ont

Some of the fashionables wore their crowns on the right side,
and others on the left. Some wore them inclining forward, and
some, pushed back. While some carried them with a swaggering
air, quite on one side, others crowded them close down to their
ears, as a defence against taking cold. These last were the pro-
prietors of those times — the annuitants of the marais, and the
cotton nightcaps of antiquity.

When every guest wore a wreath of flowers upon his head, a
dull dinner was impossible. Flowers make us cheerful. Accord*-
ingly, they knew nothing, in Rome or Athens, of those dinners
which we call dinners of ceremony. These were never suffered
before the suppression of crowns.

We must likewise confess that the invention of spectacles has
made more difficult the general use of crowns. The short-sighted

CROWNS AND GARLANDS. 347

and the long-sighted would look ridiculously enough, with bar-
nacles on nose, and flowers around the head. Most atrocious
would such a sight be, if the glasses were blue or green. Fortu-
nately, there are some who are neither short-sighted nor far-
sighted.

Heraldry took possession of the primitive crown. It copied the
flowers, which thus became flower-embellishments. The middle
ages gave birth to the crown-royal, the princely, and the ducal
crowns — and to those of the marquis, the count, and the baron.
But these were crowns of gold — and their flowers consisted of
pearls or of diamonds. Louis XIV. banished all these crowns.
Not one of them was large enough to go over a periwig. He
preserved, however, the laurel crown. Witness the portraits and
the busts of that age — Villars, Cond6, Turenne. The official
military garb of that time, was a cuirass, a. wig, and a wreath of
laurel. There was not an equestrian statue of the great king,
which had hot a wreath of green leaves around the head. God-
desses, also, were allowed the privilege of the crown. At Ver-
sailles, all the muses are wreathed with flowers.

The use of hair-powder contributed to the abandonment of
crowns, by the beauties of the eighteenth century. The garland,
on the other hand, enjoyed, during that period, unbounded popu-
larity. Thus Watteau's swains adorn with garlands the cottages
of their shepherdesses, and court-ladies used to wear them over
their hoops.

In fact, the garland possessed every charm — assumed every
form — lent itself to all sorts of transformation. A supple, flexible,
fragrant serpent, it twined caressingly round the handsome form,
or fell over the ivory shoulder, or followed in and out the waving
robe of gauze. Besides this, it has given a pretty word to the

348 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

French language, — the friendly, the wheedling, the melodious
word, enguirlander !

There was a moment, in the days of the Directory — at the
restoration, to wit, of the ancient Grecian costume — when it
seemed as though the crown would resume its old supremacy.
Vain expectation ! Those bold ladies, who were not afraid to
resuscitate the tunic and the buskin, recoiled before the crown.
Not long after this, the fair sex appeared covered, not with
flowers, but with light-colored periwigs. Even brunettes, of the
most decided character, were compelled to adopt the fashionable
hue. By what strange whim, what unaccountable notion, could
woman be induced to renounce one of her most valued adorn-
ments— her own natural tresses? Was it an indirect way of
declaring herself in favor of the old regime t Did she recall the
perruque, as a sly manoeuvre for provoking a reaction ?

Thus it was all over with crowns. Since that time thev have
been neglected. Some are yet worn at balls, — but they are few,
and mostly composed of artificial flowers, having more the ap-
pearance of diadems than of crowns. A garland over a robe, is
no longer in good taste. Scattered here and there upon the
muslin, accidentally, as it would seem, and unconsciously, may
be seen a few bouquets, — but no one ventures to wear a
garland.

There are, however, certain countries where the genus trumeau
still exists. On Mayday the young men erect, before the windows
of the village maidens, poles adorned with garlands. With gar-
lands, also, they decorate the cottage door. But this is only a
country custom, and is of little consequence.

In the neighborhood of Paris, the amusement of crowning a

CROWNS AND GARLANDS. 349

rosiere, occasionally still occurs. But instead of a crown, a silver
medal is bestowed, or a present of five hundred francs.

Even kings no longer wear the crown. The regal diadem has
become a myth — a mere fiction. Who has ever seen a sceptre
or a throne ? Of what use, indeed, are kingly crowns 1 Kings
are no longer consecrated.

Since the abolition of crowns, men and women have no means
left for manifesting their griefs in public. The former can only
put their handkerchiefs to their eyes, and the latter can merely
faint away. Sophocles was engaged in the rehearsal of one of
his own tragedies, when the sad death of the banished Euripides
was announced to him. The poet instantly laid aside his crown,
and all the actors, in sign of mourning, followed his example.

Cleagene, Aspasia's rival, was breathing her last, while the
latter was entertaining, by a splendid fete, the flower of the Athe-
nian youth. Aspasia was informed of the extremity to which her
rival was reduced. With spontaneous emotion, she tore from
her brows her wreath of roses, and trampled it under foot Her
guests followed the example, and the festival was at an end.

Were such a thing now to occur, each one would lift up her
hands and exclaim — " Heavens ! is it possible ! Poor Cleagene !
only three days ago I met her in the Elysian Fields!" Now
mark, how unlike to the simple but eloquent act of Aspasia and
her friends, are all these imposing gestures and loud exclamations.
They merely took off their crowns, and the whole was told.

How much would woman gain, by substituting fresh wreaths of
flowers for the modern hat, which is so unbecoming. Sooner or
later she will return to this ornament, so simple yet so complete

350 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Maidens, wives, matrons, the high-born and the humble, will all
wear crowns,, suited, however, to their age and their rank. The
bonnet of calico, of gauze, and of tulle, more absurd even than
the hat, will then disappear.

While waiting for this change, which we devoutly wish, the
banished crown finds an asylum only on the coffins of children
and young maidens, or on the black cross of the tomb.

AUTRE GUZLA.

THE JESSAMINE.

•^The jessamine is my favorite flower. It is fragrant as a
houri's breath.

<" When I was rich, I had, in my vast gardens, whole thickets of
embowering jessamines. Their white leaves rested on the tawny
shoulders of the almees, who danced before their master, as he
reclined on cushions of silk.

Now I am poor, and the jessamine, still my friend, twines
around my window, and protects it from the heat of the sun.

Light was the step of Hendie, as she descended the hill.

Her form was graceful as the palm-tree stem, and her cheek
was smooth as burnished silver.

Brighter seemed her smile to me than the golden fringe which
tips a cloud illumined by the moon.

352 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Rose-lipped virgin, how often did I steal away to see thee, be-
hind the jessamines which hid the terrace of thy father's house !

s The jessamine is white, like the lily; it is red, like the pome-
granate ; and it is gold-colored, like the sun. It assumes all colors,
that it may make itself beloved

Who would not love the jessamine \

s

It is the tent of lovers — the delight of the bees. It charms
every eye by day, and fills with its fragrance the still, clear night

From the roof which it protects, it drives away the Djinns. To
it the bulbul loves to chant his sweetest strains.

As thou didst favor, oh jessamine ! my youthful loves, so now
thou art shedding thy fragrance on my old &ge. Thy flowers de-
light my eyes ; thy odors make me young again. I plucked, this
morning, one of thy branches, and the tobacco smoke which
passed through it, as it came from my narghile, seemed more fra-
grant than ever.

May the Peris guard thee, and, coming themselves each morn-
ing and evening, may they, with their breath, revive thy flowers !

FLOWERS CHANGED TO ANIMALS.

The young Kao-ni was walking, one day, in the fields with his
master, the learned Kin. Suddenly the youth, who was gathering
flowers, uttered a shriek. With all the haste that his age al-
lowed, his master ran towards him.

" What is the matter, my son t What has happened to you V
said he.

" I stooped to pluck what I supposed to be a flower, and found
that I was on the point of touching a scorpion," replied Kao-ni,
" Let me crush the venomous creature." But the old man held

him back.

«

" Stop," said he ; " what you have mistaken for an animal, is
actually a flower. It is called the Katong-ging* There are
nine petals; two represent the antennae; six others, the legs;
while the ninth, somewhat elongated, forms the tail Look at it ;
would not any one call it a scorpion 1"

354 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Kin stooped and plucked the flower. He then offered it to his
pupil ; but the latter rejected it with looks of disgust.

" What a freak/' said he, " in nature, to give a flower a form so
repulsive/'

To reprove him, and show him the folly of his speech, Kin
then told him the following story ; —

" There 18, my son, nothing freakish in nature. For every
thing that we see, there is a cause; even for the flower which
looks like a scorpion. The Katong-ging has sisters, whose lot is
sad as her own. There is the ophrys, which, like a wasp, seems
ready to sting you, and from which you instinctively recoil. One
species of the ophrys so nearly resembles a spider, that flies shun
it, and even man looks at it with aversion. In the genus orchis,
there are plants bearing a strong likeness to the serpent and to
the beetle. I will give you the statements made in works of
science, respecting these strange metamorphoses.

" The flowers are under the control of a fairy, who at all times
directs their destinies. Flowers have souls, as well as men ; and
they are rewarded by the fairy according to their conduct,
whether good or bad. To those which are modest and obedient,
she gives caresses, more refreshing than the breeze — more cheer-
ing than the dew or the sunshine. Upon those flowers that dis-
regard her laws, she sends insects which devour them alive, and
cutaneous diseases which dry up their stems ; for the fairy can, at
times, be Severe. What were the crimes of the ophrys and the
orchis, is not known. We do know, that ages ago the fairy com-
pelled them to assume their present forms ; and that they must
Continue to wear them, until the butterfly shall fall in love with
them."

FLOWERS CHANGED TO ANIMALS. 866

Kao-ni listened attentively to this story.

" Poor Katong-ging," said he, looking mournfully at the flower,
" when will thy punishment be ended ! Never, I fear ; for how
can a scorpion awaken love V

" Never, my son," replied the old man, * never despair of love.
Now mark well the lesson which is contained in what I am about
to state to you. To find one's self beloved, is sufficient often to
remove the long-worn envelope of sting, venom, ugliness— of
vices, defects, and even wickedness itself.

" The Katong-ging was a small blue flower, that with light and
graceful stem, used to wave upon the river bank. It was certainly
pretty; it seemed to be good, gentle, and virtuous. It inspired
with confidence a blue dragon-fly, which lived on the same bank
with the Katong-ging.

N If by day this poor demoiselle found it difficult to elude the
attacks of swallows, which thronged the water's side, the case was
still worse by night Then lizards, spiders, bats, and every other
kind of nocturnal marauder, made open war upon her. She was
forced to keep constantly on the watch, and to sjeep with one eye
open. But this, after a while, becomes very fatiguing.

" The dragon-fly recounted its vexations to the Katong-ging.

" * My dear demoiselle/ said the flower to her, ' before you add
another word, I am happy to offer you a shelter, where you may
repose in perfect security. When night approaches, rest upon
me. Your wings and my leaves are of the same color; and I
defy all the lizards, and spiders, and bats in the world to distin-

356 'THE FLOWERS . PERSONIFIED.

guish yon, when thus blended with me* Besides, on the slightest
alarm, I shall awake. We flowers sleep very lightly.9

"The demoiselle was overwhelmed with gratitude, — and
thanked heaven, which had sent her a neighbor so kind

" But the Katong-ging had her plans.

"A young glow-worm dwelt in a patch of grass at her feet.
Every evening he attempted to climb up the stem of the flower, in
order to issue from his obscure abode, and to enjoy the play of his
own reflected rays on the surface of the unruffled water.

"But the malicious Katong-ging, as often as the glow-worm
had nearly effected his purpose, would bend its head, and the un-
fortunate worm would fall back into the grass. Over and over
again, the task was reattempted, but always with the same result

" This day, however, the plant addressed the glow-worm, and
bade him climb and hide himself beneath its leaves, inclining, at
the same time, its head, to facilitate his ascent

" « What a good child is this flower/ thought the glow-worm,
as he wound himself comfortably around the corolla of the plant
* When night comes, I shall see myself in the water/

"Night came, and with it the demoiselle alighted on the Ka-
tong-ging, where, exhausted as she was by preceding vigils, she
soon fell asleep. The glow-worm looked at the illumined water,
and waited impatiently for the moon to go down.

"Darkness at length succeeded the moonlight The glow-
worm immediately shone out, and the bats as quickly rushed

FLOWERS CHANGED TO ANIMALS. 357

towards him. The poor wretch was killed, as well as the demoi-
selle, whose presence he had thus signalized.

" The Katong-ging, — the hypocritical Katong-ging, — delighted
at the trick which it had just played, sent up a shout of laughter.
The Flower Fairy, who knew all that had passed, was so indig-
nant, that she changed the flower into a scorpion/'

POLITICAL AND NATIONAL FLOWERS.

We must be careful not to confound political with national
flowers. They are entirely different

The red and white roses were once political flowers in Eng-
land— bat they never became national.

In France we had, at one time, the violet Who would have
supposed itf The simple, modest violet, was actually factious.
It meddled with politics, and incurred fines and imprisonment

But nature has resumed her reign. The violet is now a well-
behaved and modest damsel, that shudders at the thought of being
mentioned.

It is owing to a misapprehension, that the lily has become a
national flower. The steel spear-points which our ancient kings
bore upon their standards, were mistaken for lilies. The error,
like many others, has become a verity. Poetry will always see
lilies, where learning, in its obstinacy, will see only spear-points.

H

s

POLITICAL AND NATIONAL FLOWERS. 359

There are a few old academicians, who would like to rank the
myrtle and the laurel among our national flowers.

It would he an endless task to attempt the history of the politi-
cal flowers. Nearly all the flowers have been such, to some ex-
tent In some of the provinces, still, one political faction wears,
at the button-hole, a white pink, while the other sports a red one.
The ancient colors of France were white. The uniform of the
first consul was red.

There is, in France, one national flower, whose rights no one
will dispute. Its origin is lost in the night of antiquity. It is the
vervain.

In imagination I behold Velleda — pale, melancholy priestess !
'—and those mysterious recesses of the forest, where our ances-
tors dwelt. I see the druidess now dance around the magic plant
— now stoop and cut it with a golden sickle, which glistens in the
moonlight I hear, also, the songs of the Eubages, as they mingle
with the roar of the forest winds. Who, on beholding this
plant, now so simple, graceful, and timid, would imagine that it
had ever played a part so important and so dreadful t

We have explored, in vain, the heraldry and the history of
other nations. It is in France only that we find national flowers.
This it is which shows us to be superior to every other people in
poetry and in sentiment, — though some persist in allowing us
only wit

THE NAMES OF FLOWERS AND OF WOMEN.

How pretty are the names of flowers ! I do not mean those
which the scientific give them. These, none but the scientific
would ever wish to learn. In the name of each flower you may
read, so to speak, something of its character. What can be
fresher, or livelier, or more smiling, than the word Rose t

The three syllables of the word Guimauve, do they not suggest
to us something gentle, and salubrious, and beneficent — I had al-
most said, emollient ? Mark how the grace and majesty which
characterize the flower, breathe in the word Lys — so short, yet
so melodiously prolonged. In Liseron, do you not at once per-
ceive something spirited and coquettish, yet good withal I The
melodious word Tubereuse, how sluggish, monotonous, and sleepy
it is! On me it has all the effects of a narcotic. Lilas! — in
this there is something youthful, and amorous, and refreshing,
which is delightful to the heart. Tilleul! — methinks I hear the
brisk rustling of its leaves, when shaken by the wind Pivoine !
— sparkling and sonorous, but without dignity.

Do you seek a name which cannot be uttered without emotion t

THE NAMES OF FLOWERS AND OF WOMEN. 361

Take Primevbre or Pervenche. Marguerite /—did the flower give
a name to woman, or woman one to the flower 1 Lianes is a
delightful word, which may be traced to lien. Although Latin,
Geranium is very pretty* Still, there is a slight tinge of sadness
in the name.

In Coquelicot, there is a mingling of grace, oddity, kindness, —
of pride, flightiness, and good humor. The Ananas! — 'tis like a
strawberry that melts in the mouth ; 'tis like a nut that crackles
between the teeth.

Were I writing a novel, and in pursuit of a name for some
frivolous, lazy, lounging simpleton, who is incapable of a serious
thought, I would call him Master Bagaenaudier*

By suppressing the first syllable of melancolies we obtain ancolie.

We have Clematite> Acacia, Acanthe, Adonide, Aloes, A?na-
ryllis, Amarante, Anemone, Balsamine, and many more, whose
delightful names — pardon me, ye flowers!-— I cannot remember.
But Au bepine ! — how could I forget that? or Bleuet, and Fou-
gere, and Eglantine, and Heliotrope, and Jasmin, and Muguet, and
Reseda, and thee, good, big Coquelourde ?

I cannot conceive why women should persist in exploring the
calendar for names, when nature offers them those which are so
pretty. Why do they not select them from among the flowers X
How easy it would be to make the name indicative of the char-
acter, or of the looks of the individual. Why should we not
have mademoiselle Fraise, mademoiselle Cl£matite, mademoiselle
Bleuet, and mademoiselle Pervenche, as well as mademoiselle
Rose, and mademoiselle Marguerite f

362 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Had I a daughter, I should wish to name her Aub6pine.

The proposed change is very simple, and might very easily be
effected; and yet, who can tell when it will be accomplished!
Many a woman will adopt such a name as Petronille, before one
can be found, who is willing to be called Reseda.*

* For obvious reasons, the French names only are given in the text. Their English
meanings, with a few exceptions, are here subjoined :— Guimauve, Marsh-mallow ; Lys,
Lily ; Liseron, Bindweed ; Tubereuse, Tuberose ; Lilas, Lilac ; Tilleul, Linden ; Pivoine,
Peony; Primevere, Primrose; Pervenche, Periwinkle; Marguerite, Daisy; Lianes,
Bindweed ; Coquelicot, Wild Poppy ; Ananas, Pine-apple ; Baguenandier, Bladder-nut
tree ; Clematite, Clematis, or Virgin's Bower ; Acaothe, Acanthus ; Adonide, AnCs-eye ;
Auhepine, Hawthorn ; Bleuet, Bluebottle; Fougere, Fern; Muguet, Lily of the Valley;
Reseda, Mignonette ; Coquelourde, Pasque-flower, or Anemone Pulsatilla.

/

•l_

THE WALL-FLOWER.

On the top of an old prison grew a wall-flower. One of the
prisoners could see it from his window. It became his delight,
his consolation, his only hope. He loved it with such a love as
one feels for his mistress.

To him the wall-flower supplied the place of spring and air, of
sunshine and of freedom. From the top of the battlement it
looked at him with a smile ; it waved gracefully before him its
slender stems ; it even leaned from the dark wall, as if to give him
its hand.

When, at night, he heard the wind roar, the rain fall, and the
storm rage, he trembled for his wall-flower.

His first care in the morning, after attending to his devotions,
was to see how it fared with his beloved flower.

364 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

He would find that the wall-flower had already forgotten the
storm. It would smooth its ruffled leaves, as the bird smooths its
plumage. In a twinkling its toilet would be finished ; and then,
looking up at the sun, it put on the airs of some little coquette.

II.

The wall-flower occasionally brought friendly visiters to the
unfortunate prisoner. Sometimes it was the butterfly, which, after
visiting the flower, would come and flit before his window gra-
tings; sometimes it was the bee, which poured into his ear its
pleasant hum; and sometimes it was the little field-bird, which,
when weary of flying, would alight and rest on the branches of
the walUflower,

When winter came, the prisoner was left without a friend.
Sometimes he saw the swallows, as they passed in front of the
prison. "Alas!" he would then say, "the swallows have come
back — but the wall-flower will return no more. Like all the rest,
it has forgotten me !"

s But, one fine May morning, as with the first sunbeams he
awoke, the wall-flower saluted him from its high loophole ; and
soon after, returned the prisoner's friends-*— the butterfly, the bee,
and the little field-bird,

/

There lived, in that valley, a man who used to spend the whole
day in the fields, with a large tin box fastened to his* shoulder-belt.
This box he carried home at night, filled with herbs, flowers, and
plants of all sorts.

Because he was a botanist, he fancied that he loved flowers.

THE WALL-FLOWER. 365

He supposed he loved flowers, because it was his business to ar-
range, classify, and ticket them, according to size, sex, family, and
order, — and worst of all, because he gave them Latin names — the
wretch !

One day, when fatigued with his walk, he stopped before the
old dungeon where our prisoner was confined. While wiping
from his face the sweat that poured down, he raised his eyes and
caught sight of the wall-flower.

"Ah!" said he, "there is a gilliflower; that will be a great
prize to me. Nicholas, my neighbor and rival, has not so fine a
one in his collection. I must try to get it But how am I to
do it r

The prison-walls were very high, and there were no means of
scaling them. Our hero threw a glance around. He perceived
that the turret was connected with a rampart, which was partly in
ruins, and that once on the rampart, he would be separated only
by a few feet from the flat roof of the prison. He commenced
the ascent. The day was extremely hot; but the thought of get-
ting an advantage over his neighbor Nicholas, inspired him with
resolution.

IIL

The prisoner was gazing at the wall-flower in silent ecstasy, like
that which we experience in the presence of the one whom we
love. Suddenly he perceived a shadow, that was projected on the
wall, and saw that there was a man upon the roof. As this per-
son advanced towards the wall-flower, the prisoner recognised him
as a botanist, by the tin box at his back.

366 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

The botanist having reached the plant, put himself in a position
to pall it up.

" Stop, wretch !" exclaimed the prisoner ; " if you have any sen-
sibility— if the misfortunes of your fellows can touch your heart,
you will spare that flower. It is that which sustains me, and con-
soles me, and keeps me from dying."

"Ah! some poor fool, whom they have done well to shut up
here !" murmured the botanist, as he resumed his task.

" Wretch !" said the prisoner, u God will punish thee for it"

• The botanist had planted himself on the edge of the roof, for
the gilliflower had taken root, with a firm hold, on the outer side
of the wall. Our hero gave a violent push, and the plant gave
way; but it fell not alone — for it dragged the botanist with it to
the ground.

Such are the consequences of forgetting the laws of equilib-
rium, when one is botanizing on old dungeon roofs.

Providence thus avenged the prisoner, and even more cruelly
than one could have supposed — for the botanist was not killed by

IV,

He uttered frightful shrieks. The peasants came up, and con-
veyed him home in a wheelbarrow. The doctor told him that he
must lose both of his legs. However, after mature consideration,
he was content to take only one.

THE WALL-FLOWER. 367

The man got well, but his botanizing was all over. He had,
moreover, the mortification of seeing his rival and neighbor,
Nicholas, pass every morning, with his tin box at his back

Nicholas, on the other hand, continued to botanize with such
success, that he was made a member of the Academy. The
effect of this on his neighbor, was a fit of jaundice.

V.

As for our prisoner, he fell into a deep despondency. In losing
the gilliflower, it seemed to him as though he had, a second time,
lost his liberty Winter came ; and as the gloomy season dragged
away, his beloved flower was less thought of. Spring also ar-
rived. One morning, as the first rays of the sun found their way
into his cell, he raised his eyes toward the dungeon roof — where,
lo ! another wall-flower waved upon its stem, and bade the poor
prisoner u good morning."

TEA AND COFFEE.

S

The Coffee-flower took it into its head to make a voyage to
China, for the purpose of visiting her sister, the Tea-flower. The
latter received her guest with a politeness in which might be seen
a slight air of superiority.

In fact, to the Tea-flower, Coffee was but an outside barbarian,
with whom she condescended to hold intercourse, notwithstand-
ing the immense distance that separates a civilized Chinese from
a foreigner, who is still sunk in the depths of ignorance.

The Coffee-flower had too much quickness and penetration, not
S to understand this reception, and she had too much pride to sub-
mit to it

" My dear," said she to Tea, as soon as they were by them-
/ selves, " the airs which you affect, are not at all agreeable. Un-
derstand, if you please, that I do not need to be patronised, and
that I am your superior in every respect/'

. The Tea-flower shrugged her shoulders with disdain. "My

t

"V-.

TEA AND COFFEE. 369

title of nobility," said she, " is six thousand years older than yours.
It dates from the very foundation of the Chinese monarchy, the
oldest of all known kingdoms."

"And what does that prove V said Coffee,

44 That you should treat me with deference," was the answer.

It is proper to state, that this conversation occurred at a small
lacquered table, On which stood a coffee-pot and a tea-pot The
two flowers, to keep up their rage, had frequent recourse to the
stimulants which these contained.

" You are so insipid," said Coffee, " that the Chinese themselves
have been compelled to abandon you, and take to opium. You
are no longer a stimulant, and a promoter of pleasant dreams —
but merely a table-drink, like cider and small-beer among us."

" I have vanquished," briskly replied Tea, " a nation which has
vanquished China itself. I reign in England."

"And I, in France"

" It was I that inspired Walter Scott and Lord Byron."

44 1 nerved the wit of Moliere and Voltaire."

44 You are only a slow poison." ^

44 And you, a mere vulgar diet-drink."

44 In the melodious murmurs of the tea-kettle," said Tea, u one
may fancy that he hears the spirits of the fireside sing. My

47

370 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

color 13 tbat of a fair girl's tresses. I am the Poesy of the
gentle and melancholy north."

" Mine," said the Coffee-flower, " is the dusky tint of tropical
maidens. Like them, I am ardent. Like some subtile fire, I
course along the veins. I am the Cupid of the south."

" Thou dost consume, while I comfort"

u No — I give strength ; you only weaken/'

" To me belongs the heart"

" Yes ; and to me the head."

The two flowers had become so exasperated, that they were
about to pull each other's leaves. But, on further reflection, they
concluded to refer their dispute to a tribunal composed equally of
tea-drinkers and coffee-drinkers. This tribunal has been long in
session, but has not yet agreed on a verdict

THE MUSIC OF FLOWERS.

The lovers of flowers are generally lovers of music also.
What are the relations which thus connect these two tastes t

Is there not a correspondence between harmony of tones and
harmony of colors ?

Do not certain melodies recall to your remembrance certain
flowers ? Weber transports us into the depths of the forest, and
sets us down among modest daisies and chaste violets. Rossini
conveys us into the flower-garden, where a hundred varieties of
the rose are harmoniously blended. Beethoven seems to start
forth from one of those hedge-rows, where the hawthorn, the
syringa, the elder, and the juniper, mingle their various flowers
and their powerful scents.

When you hear an opera of Donizetti, do you not almost
fancy that you see springing up before you, one of those peonies
whose flowers are so brilliant, yet so transitory t

Halevy's music reminds one of the camellia. That of Auber
recalls to us those convolvuli, which are so flexible and graceful —
accommodating themselves to every demand, and floating about at

372 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

the pleasure of the wind. While we listen to one of Schubert's
melodies, we might fancy ourselves walking by moonlight, on a
hill-side carpeted with heath-flowers.

So, too, the smell of a flower will often seem to recall the vague
remembrance of some musical strain. It is impossible to walk
alone among flowers, for any considerable time, and not feel
the desire to sing. Woman always finds that she sings better
when she has a bouquet in her hand,

In the contemplative hours of some lovely night, amid the
faint sounds apd mysterious murmurs that come from the bosom
of woods, earth, and waters, who has not heard, distinctly min-
gling, the varied music of the flowers 1 There was the brilliant
cavatina of the Rose, as she recounted the story of her loves ;
there the Lily's holy chant, and there, the Violet's chaste romance,
To these particular strains succeeded a general concert, in which
all the flowers united their voices in one aerial chorus, that grad-
ually died away in the dense foliage, or among heaps of rustling
leaves, which the wind had piled up.

Sound is invisible and impalpable; so is perfume. Perfume
floats lightly, penetrates far, easily escapes ; so, also, does sound.
One is the music of man ; the other, being the voice of flowers, is
that of nature. Some persons have even dreamed of a scale in
perfumes. To every dream there is some basis, in nature, or in
the human heart,

Ordinary concerts cease to charm the man who has listened to
one of the kind just named. To him, human singing seems but
a feeble and faint reflection of the melodies of nature. Common
music only makes him long more earnestly for that ideal and mys-
terious charm, which he has found in the music of flowers.

THE FESTIVAL OF THE LILAC.

Early this morning the Lilac rose, and having put on her
gayest robes, adorned herself with garlands. How pretty are the
flowers which glow amid her tresses! There is not a flower
more lovely than the Lilac. A delicate carnation tinges her white
cheeks. She is elastic and graceful. Her countenance is open,
yet has an air of frolicsomeness which is not unpleasing. " Good
morning, sweet flower ! Whither bound, pretty little Lilac V9

" Spring came to me this morning, and said : ' Still asleep, lazy
flower T Awake ! dost thou not hear the song of the lark f
Come, and aid me in my labors. We have much to do. The
stream, which has been locked up with ice, is about to be libera-
ted,— shall it not find its banks covered with moss?' "

At the sight of spring, the moss has again become verdant ; the
rose, touched with emulation, has expanded ; the willow is decked
with green leaves ; and the nightingale, perched on one of the
branches, has saluted the Lilac with a chant of joy.

The Lilac is the confidential friend of youth, attracting equally
all the young. What countless secrets have been disclosed be-
neath its shade ! But the Lilac is discreet The trust which is

S

374 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

confided to it, she never betrays. Who ever regretted that he
had opened his heart to the Lilac 1 Her arrival has just been
made known in the country. At once the cottage doors open,
and thousands of happy faces are seen at the windows. They
gather round the flower, contending for the privilege of being the
first to salute her, From a distance the old men smile upon her,
while the boys and girls crowd close to her.

This Day of the Lilac is a grand festival in the country. The
return of the flower has brought comfort to many hearts. This
Is the time to claim a fulfilment of promises. The Lilac reminds
all of their engagements, and fills the air with the sweet fragrance
of peace, of love, and good-will. It dries every tear. None weep
in the presence of the Lilac. Meanwhile, she continues her ca-
reer. Everywhere she rouses her sister lilacs, and her com-
panions among the other flowers. Its clusters of blueish pink
hang along the walls, or wave amid the hedges, or tremble in the
depths of the thickets. The Lilac loves to console all. When,
early this morning, Arnold went to offer his prayers at the grave
of poor Maria, a bunch of white lilacs hung down from his cap.
There is but one Lilac-day in all the year. On that day the
dance is continued till evening. On that day, they sing the
praises of that sweet flower of spring, which inspires gay and
pleasing thought, and which awakens love.

Now the shades of evening rest upon the village ; the dance and
the song are suspended. " Little Lotchen, whither art thou
going 1 Why dost thou leave so stealthily thy cottage T In quest
of the Lilac, dost thou say ? And what so important hast thou to
say to her t The Lilac has worked hard to-day. She is worn
out with fatigue, and now sleeps sweetly. Do the same, Lotchen.
When thou awakest to-morrow, thou shalt tell her thy tale. And
yet, I suspect, poor little thing, that the flower knows it already."

vA-^ J^tL^\.

T

THE TUBEROSE AND THE JONQUILLE.

A Jonquille, which rested on the ledge of a window, and a
Tuberose, which was seated on a grassy bank, were conversing ^
together in a friendly manner. A vine hung, like tapestry, from
the wall, and twined around the heads of the two flowers. A fa-
vorite Ring-dove, which had been brought up by the Tuberose,
was allowed to take part in the conversation.

" The other day," said the Jonquille, " my master, as he showed <^
me to one of his friends, exclaimed : ' See this pretty flower, —
this is Desire/ "

Said the Tuberose, in reply, u I am Pleasure."

Jonquille : u I would rather be Desire." —

Tuberose: "It is your pleasure to say so— but everybody is
not of your opinion."

Jonquille : " You always come after me."~

376 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Tuberose : " Yes ; but I cause you to be forgotten."

Jonquille : " Without me, you would have no existence. You
owe to me your birth."

Tuberose : " And you are indebted to me for resuscitation."

The conversation, it will be perceived, had taken quite a meta-
physical turn. Here was a wide field, where the two flowers
might dispute for a long time, without decisive advantage to either.
To decide between the Tuberose and the Jonquille, between
Desire and Pleasure, is more than we would venture to attempt
Luckily, the Ring-dove was not so scrupulous.

" Not so fast, ladies, not so fast," said he ; " I am going to de-
cide the difference between you."

" You /" scornfully exclaimed both interlocutors.

"Yes — /," said the Ring-dove; "notwithstanding my appear-
ance of simplicity, I have had considerable experience, and have
reflected a great deal on the essential nature of things. You will

" Yes ; we shall see." The Tuberose and Jonquille could not
wholly suppress a sarcastic smile.

" In order to decide between you," resumed the Ring-dove, " I
have but to look at the different ways in which mankind treat
you. Nature has provided amply for the multiplication of the
Jonquille. Everywhere in the meadows, and by the side of the
most unpretending flowers, the Jonquille blooms. Its odor is
sweet, and not overpowering. Its drooping head, concealed, as it

THE TUBEROSE AND THE JONQUILLE. 377

were, under a white veil, and its green robe of hope, charm the
eye. Beneath the windows of the poor, and on the mantels of
the rich, it may everywhere be seen. Thus we see that Desire is
pleasing.

/ "As to you, Madam Tuberose, the case is different. You are a
native of India, — the offspring of a clime from which all our
poisons come. Your large, white, rose-tinted flowers allnfe us, it
is true, by their beauty, but their perfume cannot be long endured.
At first, indeed, their powerful fragrance charms the sense, and
one would fain give himself up wholly to the delight of inhaling
it ; but satiety soon succeeds to this transient intoxication. We
then remove you to a distance, and carefully keep out of your
/'way. Thus it is that Pleasure destroys."

For a long time, the Jonquille has been preferred to the Tu-
berose. We heartily approve of this decision, though we do not
expect that all will acquiesce in it. The truly wise agree with
the Ring-dove ; but multitudes still hesitate between Desire and
Pleasure.

1

THE BALL OF THE FLOWERS.

Delighted at finding themselves again united, after all their
vicissitudes, the chief flowers determined on giving a ball, before
they should reassume their primitive forms. We shall give no
description of the splendid dancing saloon, which had been con-
structed by orders of the Flower Fairy, for the flowers made no
use of it. They chose to dance in the open air.

It must be acknowledged that the open air, in fairy-land, is not
at all like the same thing in our climate. The sky approaches
the earth so nearly, that it resembles a ceiling studded with stars.
The wind, like some invisible tissue, sweeps around you gently
and caressingly. But it was not merely that it would be more
pleasant to dance out of doors. The flowers were unwilling to
enter the saloon, lest it should remind them, by its associations, of
the earth where they had lived.

/ Myriads of fire-flies, like living girandoles, flew here and there,

H

T^BS'f

THE BALL OP THE FLOWERS. 379

a shifting illumination. Nothing could be finer than the sight of
these graceful insects, as they swept in luminous curves around
the heads of the dancers.

At length the orchestra struck up. This was composed wholly
s6f nightingales, who were members of the Royal Academy of
Music. The bluebird was the leader of the band, beating the
time with a golden rod, which was studded with diamonds.

The musicians first played a country-dance, then a polka, and
then a waltz, just as these are performed in the saloons of the
fashionable world.

After a couple of country-dances, the flowers began to feel fa-
tigued ; nor could they help expressing to one another their sur-
prise, that they had once taken so much pleasure in the dance.
Even the Belle de Nuit was unable to account for the passionate
fondness which she formerly had for masquerades.

" All these movements," said the Lily, " are not to be compared
to the gentle, waving motion, which the Zephyr used to give me."

Just then, the China-aster was engaged in leading off a grand
galopade, but as the other flowers were advancing towards the
fairy, she was compelled to stop it, and to join them.

Their first feeling, on beholding their old asylum, was one of
joy. To this succeeded doubt and apprehension. What was
their reception to be 1

They had departed in opposition to her wishes, and in disre-
gard of her advice. Would she, regarding them as sufficiently
punished, consent again to receive them f

380 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Not one of them dared to advance, and ring for admittance at
the garden-gate.

Suddenly, however, the gate spontaneously opened wide its
doors, and the fairy made her appearance. The flowers fell,
weeping, on their knees -—but she kindly raised them.

"Enter, my poor children/' said she to them; "come and re-
sume, at my side, the places which you should never have aban-
doned."

The bluebird had perched upon the fairy's shoulder. "Go,"
said she, "gentle messenger; return to the earth, and conduct
back to me any poor wanderers, who have lost the road to their
country."

The bluebird spread his wings of turquoise, and commenced

his flight.

More than twenty times that day did the garden-gate open and
close. Whole troops of flowers came in. At evening, two or
three lingerers only, failed to answer when called.

The Bluebottle and the Cornpoppy came in together, followed
by the Bindweed, which found great trouble in walking. The
Hawthorn led along the Belle de Nuit, whose weak eyes could
not endure the strong light of day. There might be seen the
Lily, the Rose, the Monkshood, the Jessamine, the Honeysuckle,
the Pink, the Orange, the Periwinkle, the Hawthorn, the Pome-
granate, the Violet, the Pansy, the Tulip, the Marsh-mallow, the
Wild-rose, the Myrtle, the Laurel, the Narcissus, and the Anem-
one. All the flowers, indeed, whose histories we have recorded,

THE BALL OP THE FLOWERS. 381

unwilling longer to retain their human forms, together presented
themselves before their sovereign, and implored her pardon.

There was not one of them who did not revisit, with rapture,
the spot where she was born ; not one but recalled, with disgust
and mortification, the hours which she had spent on earth.

Bleuette and Coquelicot, the shepherdesses, recalled the treach-
erous conduct of the two shepherds, who were so fond, yet so
unfaithful.

The Pansy cursed those men who vied with one another, in
the cruel pleasure of repelling her. The Hawthorn shuddered
when she thought of the pruner. The Tulip wondered how she
could ever have become reconciled to the ennui of the seraglio.

The Eglantine was alarmed lest, in punishment for her offence,
the fairy should condemn her to read the works which she had
composed, during the time when she figured among the bas-bleus.

The Monkshood, now freely enjoying the open air, pitied, from
the bottom of her heart, those poor young girls who are con-
demned to convent life. And so with the rest of the flowers.

The fairy, however, had no idea of revenging herself in the
way which the Eglantine and sone other flowers seemed to fear
— a fear increased by the fact, that she seemed to be in no haste
to make them lay aside their human form. The fairy, however,
had her design — a design which, in good time, we shall com-
municate.

As soon as the dews of evening began to descend with its
shades, the fairy assembled all the flowers in her palace.

382 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

u My children," said she to them, " I could preach to you a les-
son, but I prefer to dispense with it In the depths of your
hearts, I can plainly perceive that you have read to yourselves a
sermon, far better than any thing which I could say. Henceforth,
I feel sure that you will contentedly remain flowers. If, however,
any one of you would become a woman altogether, she has but to
say so. I give a fairy's word of honor, that the desire shall be
instantly gratified."

Not a word was said in reply to this proposal

"Now," said the fairy, "retire to rest To-morrow we shall
begin the series of fetes by which I mean to celebrate your re-
turn. For this reason, I have allowed you to retain your human
aspects. All the sylphs of the neighborhood will Jbe invited."

The flowers shouted, " Long live the fairy !" and then passed
in review before her. Each, as she came up, was permitted to
kiss the royal hand.

■IP

■■■

mmHmmm

i

ERRATUM.

»*^— *•

This is a chapter which we dread to begin. We do not like
errata. It is easy to commence, bat not so easy to leave off.

But the claims of truth are undeniable. We are under obliga-
tions to charge ourselves with our mistakes. If we could only
throw the blame on the absent printer ! but, alas ! our mistakes
are not typographical.

These errors go to the foundation of things ; they run counter
to the rules of morality; they violate truth in its historic, its
mystic, its philosophic, and I know not what other important
relations.

Accordingly, we have not hesitated, for a moment, to correct
ourselves with the best grace in our power. We can never con-
sent, in a work so important, to be found lagging behind the age,
or to allow the critic to regard us as only literary crabs.

Criticism is severe, when she sets herself to the work.

During the course of our publication, we have received a great

384 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

number of anonymous letters. Of these, some extol us to the
skies — others load us with maledictions. The last which came
to us, was a thunder-clap. The reader may judge for himself.

^ " Rash mortals ! beware of. Flora's wrath !"

We at once hastened to appease the goddess by suitable sac-
rifices. Is it likely that we shall be able to pacify the critic \

i
We are aware that, at one of the late sittings of the Academy i

s of Moral and Political Science, fault was found with us for having

used an obsolete symbol, while characterizing the myrtle and

laurel We readily acknowledge the truth of the observation.

The reader will please regard the two designs, representing the

myrtle and the laurel, as having no existence. After two months'

conference with the professor of Indian myrtles, Grandville has

concluded — thanks to the light which has beamed upon him from

the science of analogy — that the myrtle is best represented under

the form of a superannuated roue, and the laurel, under that of

an old military veteran.

In the scientific convention which was held this year in
France, many of their sessions were devoted to an examination
of the " Flowers Personified." The botanical division, while ap-
preciating fully the services which this work must render to
science, have felt it their duty to point out a slight mistake which
we have made. The form which Grandville has assigned to the
Belle de Nuit, is that of a flower, belonging, evidently, to the
family of the Convolvuli. In the annexed design will be found
the genuine Belle de Nuit, as described by Linnaeus, and Tourne-
fort, and Jussieu, and De Candolle. Most happy shall we be, if,
by this correction, we prove that we merit the approbation and
the .praise of the scientific convention.

ERRATUM. 385

'it was an unpardonable act of forgetfulness in us, that we did
not place the olive by the side of the laurel and the myrtle. It
well deserves a place in our allegoric gallery. The olive is Mi-
nerva's star — the double representative of peace and of wisdom.
The reader will readily distinguish it under the cotton night-cap.

In that young girl, who, with an air so sprightly and so easy, is
courageously smoking her choice Havana, we have a personifica-
tion of tobacco. We have already introduced this plant, but only
in its qualities. In order to anticipate every objection, we have
applied the same process to the everlasting flower. From being
an inanimate emblem, we have made it a living creature. The
figure of the immortelle, as exhibited in the group, has been
copied by Grandville from sculptures of Phidias, recently discov-
ered at Athens by a French traveller. The Greek artist felt, un-
doubtedly, that he was executing a statue of eternity.

And now, having corrected our mistakes, and having supplied
the omissions pointed out by the critic, nothing remains but to
congratulate ourselves on the happy issue to which we have
brought this work, so important to literature, to philosophy, and to
morals. The pencil may now rest in peace, — that, at least, has
nothing to regret. Wit, delicacy, grace, and fancy have accom-
panied all its touches. The pen cannot claim as much. Pardon
it, poor flowers ! that it attempt to make you speak, when your
silence is so expressive.

The pen here is but a babbler. The pencil is the genuine poet
of the book.

49

THE END.

vx.

%

11

ii

f

^
il

T'%

I

*•

1

MODERN BOTANY

FOR

LADIES;

JlND

LADIES* HORTICULTURE.

BY

Cte. F(ELIX.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH,

BT

N. CLEAVELAND.

NEW YORK:

PUBLISHED BY R. MARTIN

LADIES' BOTANY

INTRODUCTION,

BT

ALPH. KARR.

Stop here, fair readers. 66 no farther. Put down the book.
You are imposed upon. M. Grandville, with his ingenious and
graceful devices, and M. Delord, with his witty pages, are only a
couple of traitors. Through flowery and fragrant paths they are
leading you into a snare. They mean to deliver you into the
hands of the savans — and such savans! even the botanists, who
are not less your enemies, than they are those of the flowers.

Poor flowers ! how hard is the lot to which these naturalists
subject them. Having plucked the periwinkle from under the
hedge — the forget-me-not from the river-bank — and the mign-
onette from the foot of some old wall, — they proceed, as we have
already mentioned in our soliloquy, to assassinate, to press, to
crush, and to dry them, — depriving them, at the same time, of
their odor and color. Then upon these sepulchres, which are
called herbariums, they inscribe pompous and ridiculous epitaphs.
They first render the flowers ugly, and then disgusting.

Be on your guard. They wish to make you scientific. Avoid

11 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

them, as you would those who should urge you to smoke cigars.
In the name of beauty — in the name of love— in heaven's name,
ladies, stop where you are. Do not imagine that you can be im-
proved.

You ought to know what you owe to the editor of the Flowers
Personified, for what he has done on your behalf.

He did not dare to insert in his work, a short treatise on
Botany, until he had written before it — " Here is a trap. This is
a bore."

To whom did he go for an introduction ! Certainly there was
no reason for his calling upon me. There was M. Delord, who
had made for him a sprightly book, — and there were a dozen
others, residents of Paris, whom he meets every day — any one
of whom could have furnished him with an introductory article.

But instead of saying, — "I wish you, Monsieur Delord, to
finish this book — everybody will be pleased," — he came all the
way from Paris to the sea-shore, in pursuit of me.

Instead of saying to some botanist, — "Mr. Botanist, please
write for me a eulogium on your favorite science," — he ad-
dressed himself to me, because he knows that I, who am a gar-
dener— that I, who love flowers, and whom the flowers love, had
written several pages against those folks who call the hundred-
leaved rose a monster.

He did not dare to send forth his work without a treatise on
botany — but he has set before it a watchful sentinel, to say to
you, — "Beware of crossing tho threshold of this little temple,
dedicated to Ennui."

INTRODUCTION. Ill

In France, we love Pleasure, — but we respect, we venerate S
Ennui. To this we rear temples — to this we offer sacrifices —
just as the ancients did to Fever, to Pestilence, and to War.
Places, honors, dignities, are all reserved for the authors of huge,
tiresome works. These works are first shut up in splendid cov-
ers, and then they are shut up in the bookcase. We cram these
authors with every thing that they ask for — we do every thing in
our power to appease them — and then we read the sweet poets,
and the annalists of the heart

It is possible, after all, that you are imposed on, and that I am
imposed on, too. It may be, that, without knowing it, I am made
an accomplice in the ambush which is here set for you.

Perhaps, after having tried every method to induce you to
study botany — after having endeavored to seduce you into it by
means of the two traitors whom I have denounced — after having
intrusted his infernal machine to a cunning and ingenious work-
man, who has adroitly concealed its true character, — he was still
apprehensive that you would not read his botanical treatise, and
that the most effectual attraction which he could impart to it, was
to make it a sort of forbidden fruit ^

And this may be the reason why he applied to me.

If I be an accomplice in the treason, I can only say, it is with-
out my knowledge. Again I repeat to you, — Stop ! Read no
farther in this book. You are imposed upon !

CONTENTS OF "LADIES' BOTANY."

PART I.

Pmi

Introduction. By Alph. Karr i

Physiology 3

The Sbcd 4

Germination 5

The Organs of Vegetation 6

Stems 7

Boughs and Branches 8

The Bud .. 9

Leayes 9

Flowexs 13

Fa«s

Inflorescence 13

Calyx 14

CoroUa 15

Stamens and Futile* 16

Fructification 17

Fruit 17

The Habitation or Plants.

19

The Diseases, the Death, and the Decom-
position of Plants 33

PART II.

^LASStnoATion . ...w~ 35

Class L— Lot of Pbly petalons Exogens 37

Class IL — Monopetaloos Exogens 39

Class III. — Apetaloos Exogens 30

Class IV- — Gymnosperms 31

Class V.— Endogens 33

Class VI.— Flowerless Plants ~ 33

Description of the Orders embraced in

Class I.
Do.
Da
Do.
Do.
Do.

do.
do.
do.
do.
do.

do.
do.
do.
do.

33—46

Class II.... 46—53
Class IIL... 53—60
Class IV.... 60

Class V.... 61— 7*

da. Class VI.... 70-81

CONTENTS OF "LADIES' HORTICULTURE."

PAUT I.

Faok

Elementary Principles 83

Soil 83

Situation 84

pots — boxkh — implements 85

Greenhouses 87

Tiik Multiplication or Plants 87

Propagation by Seeds 88

bvOflsets 90

by Suckers 91

by Layers 91

Layering by Bending 92

by Strangulation 92

by Amputation 92

in Mounds 93

Pass
Propagation by Cuttings 93

by Grafting 94

Cleft-grafting 95

Crown-grafting 9fi

Budding 96

Grafting by Approach 97

Whip-grafting 97

Herb-grafting 97

The Education or Plants 98

Replanting 98

Transplanting 98

Watering 99

Repotting 99

Insects 100

Pruning 101

PART II

Contuiiiiug an alphabetical list of all the Flowers commonly cultivated; with a descrip-
tion of the characteristics of each species — the soil best adapted to its cultivation —

and the method of propagation 103—152

Supplement to "Ladies' Botany*' 1 — d

Two fine Steel Plates, designed to illustrate " Ladies' Bolauy" 10, 11

MODEBN BOTANY FOR LADIES.

PART I.

PHYSIOLOGY,

Naturalists are a set of unfeeling tyrants. Witness the manner in
which they have treated the graceful and delightful science of Botany.
Their business was, to give the history of trees, plants, and flowers. One
would say that they had only to tell their story with sweet and ruddy lips,
which nothing should touch but pearls and rose-leaves. But how is it I
Without a sentiment of tenderness or pity, they have rudely seized these
frail, charming daughters of the sky and dew. After having bruised and
mutilated them, — after throwing them into the crucible of etymology, and
inflicting on them the most excruciating tortures, — they have thought to
secure impunity for themselves, by burying their victims under a heap of
barbarous names. Thus the hawthorn, that delightful symbol of hope and
virginity, groans — thanks to the botanist — under the hideous name of mespi-
lus oxyacantha. The honeysuckle, that sweet bond of love, is called lonicera
caprifolium, — and the wall-flower, the sweet comforter of the poor, bears
the double stigma of cheirantus cheiri. Then we have such barbarous
words as chrysanthemum leucanthemum, lyriodendron tulipifera, vaccinium
oxycoccus, and many others still more horrible, which we omit.

Is not this dreadful ? And yet, unfortunately, it is all necessary. To
admire, is not to know. For the latter, order and method are indispen-
sable. How would it be possible to study the seventy or eighty thousand
species of known plants, were they not arranged in groups, families,
classes, &c. ? Without the aid of etymology, how could we possibly find
our way through such a mass ? Let us, then, forgive the naturalists, who

4 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

have merely obeyed the necessity of the case, and let us now enter the fair
domain, whose shades they have thus dispersed.

The vegetable kingdom does not, as many suppose, hold a middle rank
between the mineral and animal kingdoms — being much more nearly
allied to the latter than to the former. Plants, like animals, have a birth,
a life, a growth. Like them, they reproduce themselves ; like them, they
die. Some plants seem even endowed with a sort of sensation. The
study of plants is called botany.

THE SEED.

In the living world, nature is constantly providing for the continuation
of each species. For this it has made so various those protecting en-
velopes, which guard the seed against injury from the weather — and for
this it ripens those fruits, whose nourishing juices contribute to the growth
and development of the seed, which, in the great work of vegetation, is at
once the first step and the last.

There is a striking analogy between an egg and a seed. The offspring
of the seed, as of the egg, perfectly resembles its parent. The thread-like
prolongation which fastens the seed to its envelope, is found to convey to
it the sap by which it is nourished. The embryo contained in the seed is
a complete though miniature plant. Fully developed, it will be a perfect
vegetable, like that from which it came.

The embryo consists of four distinct parts ; namely, the collet, the radicle,
the plumula, and the cotyledons.

The collet is the connecting link between the radicle and the plumula.
The radicle is the part which first makes its appearance, and which
constitutes the beginning of the future plant. The plumula is the origin of
the stem. The cotyledons, which, in magnitude, are the principal portion
of the seed, are lobes or pulpy substances. Their number varies in dif-
ferent plants. In some, the cotyledon is wanting. According to the
number of cotyledons, or the want of them, the vegetable kingdom is
divided into three great classes : —

The acotyhdonous have no cotyledon.

The monocotyledonous have but one cotyledon.

The dicotyledonous have two or more cotyledons.

LADIES' BOTANY.

GERMINATION.

Thus we see tnat every seed contains within itself the principles of life
and development— of beauty or of greatness. But these principles are
dormant there, and might so remain forever, did no friendly hand come to
their aid. For the most part, indeed, the embryos thus inclosed in these
vegetable eggs, may, without risk, await the favorable conjuncture which
will enable them to burst the shell. In fact, some seeds long preserve the
power of germination. In many it has been found to exist, unimpaired, a
century after they were matured ; and we are assured that seeds found in
Herculaneum and Pompeii, two thousand years after those cities were
overwhelmed, readily took root.

Moreover, when the hand of man renders no aid, nature, that tender
mother, employs a great variety of ingenious methods to insure the propa-
gation and the growth of plants. Some plants, like the balsamine and the
sand-box, have an elastic power, which projects the seed to a considerable
distance. Other seeds are conveyed far by the winds of heaven, or are
wafted by water in rivers and in the sea. The seeds of plants known to
be indigenous to America, are often cast on the shore of Norway, — still
retaining their germinating power, notwithstanding the long time which
they must have occupied in the passage. Birds, also, sometimes carry seed
from one country to another, and leave them in spots favorable to their
growth. Years ago, a ship from Japan, bound for France, and having on
board several boxes filled with the bulbs of an uncommonly fine lily, was
wrecked upon the isle of Guernsey. The boxes were dashed to pieces on
the rocks, and the bulbs were scattered along the beach. There they took
root and became naturalized ; and the Guernsey amaryllis, as it is called,
has since been a source of profitable traffic to the inhabitants of the island.

Still there are vast quantities of seed which perish utterly. This re-
sults, necessarily, from their prolific abundance. On one poppy-plant,
thirty-two thousand seeds have been counted. Were all these to take root,
and should the process be continued, they would require, it has been esti-
mated, but five generations to cover the globe.

For germination, three things are needed: — these are air, heat, and
moisture. When, under these conditions, a seed is placed in the earth, it
soon begins to swell. The signs of life appear. The embryo bursts
through its envelope, and makes a passage for the plumula between the
now separated cotyledons. The radicle descends into the earth, sending

6 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

out fibrils 'in every direction ; and the plumula shoots upward, nourished
by the cotyledons, whose substance becomes soft and milk-like*

Thus is the infant born. Every day adds to its growth. Every day
its features become more distinct, and beautiful, and pleasing,— -and while
we see few traces of what it was, we can form some conception of what
it will become.

THE ORGANS OF VEGETATION.

Roots. — Nearly every plant consists of two distinct parts — the stem and
the root. The former rises into the air, bright in decoration and beauty.
The latter, possessing no elegance, plunges into the earth, there, in obscu-
rity, to discharge its functions. In these we have an image of the great
and the humble. Their origin is the same. Yet those flourish and bear
sway — whBe these suffer and toil to support them.

Vegetables draw their life through the root. If this cease to perform
its office, the plant withers and dies. Some roots last but one year ;
others live two years ; and others, again, are of various duration, from
three to twelve years. A few are found, whose existence seems unlim-
ited. Hence plants are divided into annual, biennial, perennial, and
woody.

There are three classes of roots : — the fibrous, (Fig. 1,) composed of
many long, slender filaments ; the tuberous, (Fig. 2,) which consist of
pulpy, irregular masses, called tubers, consisting principally of fecula;
and the tap-root, which runs perpendicularly downward.

These forms, so various, are not the result of chance. To an observing
mind, they furnish additional evidence of that providential care so univer-
sally shown in the works of nature, and which suggested the proverbial
expression, —

" To the lamb that is shorn, God attempers the wind"

On mountains, accordingly, we find only the fibrous roots. These make
their way into the crevices of the rocks, and there holding fast, send up
stems that brave the fiercest tempests. Tap-roots find a lodgment only
in strong, deep soils ; while those of the tuberous class, affect poor and
sandy grounds.

The duration of plants, as we have just Seen, is dependent on that of
their roots — and these are subject, in their turn, to the effects of tempera*

LADIES' BOTANY. 7

ture. The castor-bean, for instance, which in warm climates is a tree, is,
with us, only an annual plant, — whereas, our common garden vegetables,
transplanted to southern regions, become perennials, and are no longer edible.
Between the part of the plant which is below the surface, and that which
is above it, there is so much of* similarity, that the top is capable of be-
coming a root. Thus, like children returning to their mother's bosom, the
filaments of the Indian fig-tree descend to the earth, and there take root.

Stems. — We find in stems great diversity of form. Some run over the
ground without giving out roots. Others send forth shoots, which take
root, and produce new stems. Others, again, too weak to reach, alone,
the elevation which they seek, twine spirally around the trunks of large
trees, — some of them always winding from left to right, and others as con-
stantly from right to left. If, at the foot of a tree, we plant a bean and a
hop, their stems will twine in opposite directions, and across one another.
If you attempt to change that direction, they will soon resume it ; or, if the
change be enforced, they will die.

Stems are cylindrical, channelled, or triangular. In a great many plants
*the stem is smooth, having neither hair nor down. In many others, it is
covered with small scales, or with hairs, or bears small bulbs at the axillae
of the leaves. Herbaceous stems are fragile and soft, and die at the end of
the year. They are perennial, when they shoot anew from the root
during successive years. Those whose stalk survives the winter, are
called subligneous. The fourth class is the ligneous, the stems consisting
of real wood.

When a herbaceous stem springs from the germinating seed, it will rise
with more or less rapidity, and will be covered with leaves. But in the
axils of these leaves there will be no buds — nor will the plant survive more
than one, two, or three years. From the seed of an under-shrub will grow
a stem of woody consistence, but the axillae will contain no buds. The stem
of a shrub will be stronger, and will have the buds — but at its base it will
be separated into a number of woody stems. Finally the stem, which is to
become a tree, rises, a single shoot, to a certain height. From the root to
the point where the branches start out, it is called the trunk, (Fig. 4.)

The structure of the stem now claims our attention. We take, for ex-
ample, a woody plant, in which the stem is most perfect. When we cut
this across, we perceive first the bark, which is covered by the cuticle,* a
thin membrane. Then comes the liber, or true bark, which contains the'
living organization of the plant, and which owes its name to the facility

8 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

with which it may be separated into leaves, like those of a book. Beneath
this is the sap-wood, or alburnum ; then the wood, strictly so called ; and
lastly, the pith, or medulla.

The concentric layers around the pith are composed of porous vessels,
running longitudinally through the stem, and parallel to each other. In
these circulates the sap, which is the vital principle in plants. Another set
of vessels runs laterally, and extends into the medulla. These vessels,
called medullary rays, have their vital energies in the bark. Thus we
sometimes see trees, in which the wood has, to a great extent, perished,
and which, though they have only the bark to depend on, are still aUve and
vigorous. Examples of this sort are common among the willows.

Let us now trace the different stages of growth. The separated laminae
of the bark yearly become solid, and unite with the layers of the last year's
alburnum ; these layers having become actual wood, just as fast as those of
the bark have passed into the condition of alburnum. The concentric
layers which each year deposits, are a perfect indication of the age of the
plant. But there is no rule without an exception. While this is true of
that most numerous class, the dicotyledonous plants, the monocotyledonous
stems grow in a manner quite the reverse. When we examine the trans-
verse section of a palm-tree, we find no trace of bark or alburnum, of con-
centric layers, or medullary rays. The firmest and oldest portion of the
stem is its exterior — for the reason that its growth has come from within.
The palm, at first, is a tuft of leaves without stem. The following year, it
sends forth new leaves from the centre of the original tuft These are
pushed to the outside, and at length wither and fall. But their bases still
remain, and form a ring, which is the commencement of the stem. The
next year a second ring grows above the first. Thus we have only to
count the rings, in order to determine the age of the palm-tree.

Boughs and Branches. — The organization of the boughs and branches
is precisely like that of the stem. With the stem the boughs form angles,
which grow larger as the tree increases ; and the branches often terminate
in pendant twigs.

The stems of some plants grow with great rapidity, and attain to a pro-
digious height. The oak in our forests reaches an elevation of forty
metres ;* and the palm of the Cordilleras is sometimes sixty metres high.

* The metre i* about 39 inches

LADIES' BOTANY. S

Nor is the magnitude of the stem in certain plants less remarkable. At
the village of Allonville, near Yvertot, there is an oak nine metres in cir-
cumference, within which a chapel and saloon of considerable size have
been constructed. The famous chestnut of Mount Etna, which, in the
language of the country, is called the albero a centi cavalli, being almost
fourteen metres in circumference, and large enough to shelter beneath its
branches a hundred horsemen, is, nevertheless, small in comparison with
the baobab of Senegal, which is sometimes thirty metres in circumference
at the base of the trunk.

A regard for truth and candor requires of us the mortifying confession,
that while plants are less favored than we are in the matter of locomotion,
they are, in some other respects, far superior. For instance, as regards
reproduction, they are not confined to seeds alone. By grafting, by bud-
ding, by layers, and by cuttings, the same effect is produced.

The Bud. — It has been demonstrated, that every one of the buds, which
are distributed with so much regularity along the branches, contains in
itself an entire plant, complete in all its parts. These buds are small
bodies, with a covering of scales, which make their appearance at the
axillae of the leaves, and at the ends of the branches. They generally
begin to show themselves during the summer, and are then called eyes.
During the autumn they increase, and become buds, properly so called.
With the return of spring the scales drop off; the buds are developed, and
now become shoots, (Fig. 5.)

There are three varieties of bud. Those which become branches, and
are called wood buds. Those which produce leaves, are called leaf buds ;
while those which expand into flowers, are called flower or fruit buds.
The roots of perennial plants have buds, which expand into those stems
that rise annually from such roots. These buds, which are called
are distinguished from others by the feet, that they invariably originate
beneath the surface.

Leaves. — The expansion of the leaves follows immediately the growth
of the shoots. Their appearance is the signal of a new life, that pervades
all nature. The woods, which have so long been silent, again resound
with the warbling of birds. The fields are covered with flowers. Man
himself feels happier. With the expanding leaf his heart expands, and like
the quickened sap, his blood has a livelier flow. The universal cheerful-
ness which attends the opening of the leaves, is due to the following causes :

2

10 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

First, the leaves awaken pleasant sensations, by the agreeable picture
which they present to the eye. Secondly, they are beneficial by distribu-
ting in the atmosphere large quantities of vital air, while, at the same time,
they absorb those malignant exhalations which contain the germs of disease
and death.

Leaves, for the most part, are supported by a light, slender projection,
called the foot-stalk, (petiole,) and they terminate in a membranous expan-
sion, called the blade. Those leaves which are destitute of a foot-stalk,
extend like blades from the stem. Of these, the former are called petiola-
ted, and the latter, sessile. They remain attached to the stem, or its
branches, until the first frosts of winter. Then they fall, and return to the
earth, with interest, the juices which they had drawn from it during their
production and growth. This is called the fall of the leaf. In the ever-
greens, however, this does not take place.

Upon the blade may be seen a curious net- work of vessels, called nerves
and veins, which spread over it in delicate ramifications. The intervals
between these are filled with a pulpy substance, called the parenchyma,
(Fig. 6.) The part of the leaf which is opposite to the foot-stalk, is called
the apex. The two lateral extremities, are called its sides. The two faces
of the leaf are covered by a very thin epidermis. The upper side is gen-
erally smooth and glossy ; the under surface has less of color and of
lustre.

There are three kinds of leaves, — the simple, the compound, and the
compound-articulated. The simple leaf has only one blade or expansion.
The compound leaf is an assemblage of small leaves or leaflets, attached at
the apex, or on the sides, by smaller stalks, to the same leaf-stalk. We
have an example in the rose. When, as in the sensitive plant, the leaflet
has certain powers of movement, it is said to be articulated.

Green is the most common color of leaves — but it is of every shade,
from a light green to that which is brownish or even blackish. We find,
indeed, some plants with red, or yellow, or spotted leaves. But we can
hardly consider these as being in a natural state. The color of leaves de-
pends upon light. This may be proved by causing plants to grow in a
cellar. If some of these plants be placed so as to receive light from lamps,
or by means of mirrors, they will become green ; while those which are
kept in the dark, will be white.

The irritability of leaves, — their sleeping and waking, — are phenomena
which cannot fail to arrest attention. The sensitive plant is a remarkable
instance— -contracting rapidly and at once, all its leaves, to avoid contact

LADIES' BOTANY. 11

with other bodies. The fly-trap, a plant of North America, makes a
movement not less remarkable. Each of the leaves is divided at the apex
into two lobes, which are united by a hinge in the centre of the leaf.
When an insect, attracted by the liquor which always covers these, alights
on one of the lobes, they instantly come together, and make him their
prisoner. The leaves of the hedysarum gyrans, a plant of Bengal, have
a motion still more extraordinary. Its leaf consists of three leaflets at-
tached to one foot-stalk. The terminating leaflet is quite large, while the
other two are very small. These last have a perpetually twisting motion,
and describe a part of a circle. The movement continues even after the
leaf is detached from the stem, showing that the leaf is, in this respect, en-
tirely independent of the mother plant. If from any cause the large leaf
be agitated, the movement of the small leaves immediately ceases.

For the discovery of the phenomenon called the sleep of plants, we are
indebted to the investigations of Linnaeus. Certain naturalists have at-
tributed this effect to the absence of light, and have actually changed the
sleeping hours of the sensitive plant, by means of artificial illumination.
But this experiment is not conclusive, as there are many' other plants in
regard to which it has been found impossible to produce the same result.

Plants, then, feel — they sleep— they put themselves in motion. Some
even seem to show emotions of fear. Who will venture to say that all
this is merely mechanical ? The single want of locomotive powers cannot
prevent them from holding a far higher rank in creation, than that occupied
by the numerous subjects of the mineral kingdom.

In plants that have simple leaves, the phenomenon of sleep is exhibited
in four different ways. First ; the leaves touch one another, face to face,
as in the chenopodium of the gardens. Secondly ; they wrap themselves
round the stem, for the protection of the buds and flowers. Thirdly ; after
having been spread out during the day, they roll up at night, like a horn,
and enclose the tender shoots. The Peruvian mallow is an instance.
Fourthly ; they hang downwards, forming a sort of arch over the flowers
below, as in the balsamine.

There are six different positions, which are occupied by the compound
leaves during the period of sleep. 1. They place themselves together, '
side by side, like the leaves of a book. Such are the sweet-scented pea,
and the bladder-nut tree. 2. By elevating their central portion, they form
a sort of canopy for the flowers beneath them, as in the bird's-foot trefoil,
and the common clover. 3. They come together at their bases, and spread
apart at the apex — like the common melilotus. 4. The leaflets bend over

12 THE FbOWERS PERSONIFIED.

to cover the buds. Such is the white lupine. 5. They stoop down, turn
ing on their stalks, until their common petiole is above thejn, and then, their
upper surfaces being down, they lie closely upon one another, so long as
they incline towards the earth. The cassia is an example. This twisting
is the more remarkable from the fact, that if we attempt to make them
twist during the day, we can succeed only by bruising the vessels of the
individual leaf-stalks. 6. The leaves entirely cover their common petiole,
and lie like tiles upon a roof. We see this in the sensitive plant.

What themes for admiration ! Why should we go so far in pursuit of
excitement, when, at every step, if we but open our eyes, we can behold
so many wonders ?

Besides their more important organs, many plants are provided with ad-
ditional parts, which Linnaeus designated by the term fulcra, or props.
Some of these, as the prickle (Fig. 9) and the thorn, (Fig. 10,) are nothing
more than the defensive armor of the plants which bear them. The hairs
(Fig. 1 1) and the glands are a sort of secreting organs. Tendrils are
helpers to the plants on which they grow, enabling them to rise above the
ground, on which, from their weakness, they would be compelled to creep.

The leaf-stalk is sometimes accompanied by two minute appendages, of
a peculiar character, called stipules. When these are found at the base ot
the flower, on the outside of the calyx, they are called bracts. Their
function consists in protecting the leaves. They envelop them at their first
appearance — they accompany them during the process of development —
and they perish when they have ceased to be useful.

Some plants have aerial rootlets, by means of which they attach them-
selves to others, or to surrounding bodies. In the case of the Pandanus
and the Banyan, aerial roots descend from the stem and from the branch-
lets, and entering the earth, help to support and nourish the parent tree.

Flowers. — These are the appointed organs in the great work of repro-
duction. Attractive colors— sweet odors— elegant forms— delicate tissues
— the charms of opening beauty and graceful bearing — all the attributes of
loveliness, lavished, as they are, on even the most ordinary flowers — render
the season of bloom a season of display and of triumph. It is the most re-
markable, the most brilliant epoch in the life of a plant. Its childhood is
passed — and we enter on the age of youth and beauty.

The parts which compose a flower, are the calyx, (Fig. 13,) the corolla,
(Fig. 14,) the stamens, (Fig. 15,) and the pistils, (Fig. 16.) A perfect
flower possesses both stamens and pistils ; and the flower is called imperfect

-*"■ tADIES' BOTANY. 1*3

which wants either the sttfmens or the pistils. The stamens and pistils are
'sometimes united in the same flower. Sometimes they exist separately,
but on the same plant ; and again, the stamens are found on one plant,
and the pistils on another. These constitute the distinctions called andro-
gynous, monoecious, and dimcious. The term unisexual is also applied
to the last-named classes.

Flowers vary much in size. Some are so minute as to be invisible.
Others, like the Rafflesia Arnoldi,* for example, are nine feet in circumfer-
ence. Their duration varies somewhat, but is generally quite short.
Created to discharge the functions of fructification, they soon lose their
brilliancy ; their forms change, their beauties disappear. The period of
youth departs, and that of maturity succeeds.

Flowers are either sessile or pedunculated: sessile, when resting imme-
diately on the stem, with no intermediate support ; 'pedunculated, when
they have a support, more or less elongated, and which is known as the
peduncle. The latter are by far the most numerous. At the top of the
peduncle, which expands as the flower decays, the seed vessels are found.
The peduncle varies much in appearance. It is sometimes erect, some-
times inclining, and again, it rises spirally. It may be single— or composed
of several parts, which are called pedicels. When it rises directly from
the root, it is called a scape. The part which sustains sessile or pedicu-
late flowers, is called the axis.

INFLORESCENCE.

The arrangement and disposition, generally, of the flower upon the stem,
or other members that support it, is called inflorescence. Flowers are
always placed at the axillae of the leaves, but the disposition varies. Some-
times they are single— sometimes several are clustered together. Hence
the distinction of single and compound inflorescence, and the farther subdi-
vision of panicle, thyrsus, raceme, spike, spadix, whorl, umbel, corymb,
cyme, and capitulum. Inflorescence is called panicle, when, as in the
grasses, the primary axis develops secondary axes, and these again produce
tertiary, (Fig. 17.) The thyrsus is a compact panicle, the lower branches
of which are shorter than those of the middle, as in the lilac. When a

* Rafflesia Arnoldi,— a parasitic plant found opon the stem of a vine in Sumatra. A single flower
weighed fifteen pounds.

14 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

common peduncle sends forth numerous and regular ramifications, as in the
horse-chestnut, the inflorescence is called raceme, (Fig. 18.) The spike
is like the raceme, except that the flowers are sessile, as in wheat, barley,
and the plantain, (Fig. 19.) The spadix is a spike, enveloped by a large
bract, called a spathe. In the umbel, all the pedicels are equal, and proceed
from a single point. This is seen in the carrot, (Fig. 20.) The corymb
consists of a central axis, developing lateral pedicels, the lower ones of
which are so long, that their flowers are elevated to the same level as those
of the uppermost. This is seen in the milfoil, (Fig. 21.) The cyme is, like
the corymb, broad and flat-topped, but may be known from it by its three-
forked ramification, and by the central flowers of each cluster being first to
expand. Examples : the elder, the centaury, (Fig. 22.) Finally, the term
capitulum is applied to the form of inflorescence which marks the family of
composites. Such are the thistle and the artichoke, (Fig. 23.)

The forms of inflorescence may be still farther modified by cultivation.
Thus we obtain what are called double flowers, full flowers, and proliferous
flowers. Culture does for flowers, what education does for young ladies.
It saves them from many dangers ; it augments their charms, by the pecu-
liar graces which it imparts ; and, more than any thing else, it gives dura-
bility to those charms.

In double flowers, there are many more petals than belonged originally to
the flower. Full flowers are composed wholly of petals. In the proliferous
flower, a second flower, like the first, springs from the centre. All this has
been effected by the skill of the gardener. Yet in the estimation of certain
scientific amateurs, these beautiful flowers are only monsters. This, how-
ever, is but a ridiculous exaggeration, which the common sense of mankind
at once condemns.

Calyx. — We have already seen that the flower consists of four principal
parts. We will now consider these.

The calyx may be regarded as the protector of the flower. It consists
of an expansion of the bark at the end of the peduncle. It is always green
at first, but in some cases, subsequently changes. Thus, in the monkshood
it becomes yellow ; in the pomegranate, it turns red. Sometimes it consists
of a single piece— sometimes of several, which look like small scales — as
exhibited in the pink. Its form is generally cylindrical. When it encloses
but one flower, it is called a calyx proper. It is a common calyx, when it
enfolds several flowers. If there be but one envelope, it is called single ;
if several, it is double* The separate parts are called sepals.

LADIES' BOTANY. 15

We shall avoid here the use of those scientific terms, which, contributing
nothing to an acquaintance with the subject, have no other effect than to
distort pretty mouths into ugly grimaces. Of what consequence is it, to
know that men of science apply the term monophyllous to a calyx composed
of a single piece, and that of polyphyllous to one composed of several
parts ? The terms inferior ; superior, imbricate, and calyculate, are passed
over, as expressing distinctions of slight importance.

The calyx resembles a leaf, not only in form, but still more in its texture
and functions. We can discover in it nerves and tracheae, like those of the
leaf. Like that, it absorbs and exhales certain fluids. In some flowers, it
is actually converted into leaf.

Corolla. — The beauty of the flower resides in the corolla. Elegance,
colors, fragrance, belong especially to this. Like the calyx, it is sometimes
single, sometimes composed of several parts. From this circumstance,
some botanists have been led to regard it as a modification of the calyx.
Others have confounded the calyx with the corolla. This is a gross mis-
take, as some distinguished naturalists have fully shown.

Each separate leaf of the corolla is called a petal. The corolla is mono-
petalous, when it consists of a single petal. When there are several, it is
polypetalous. When a petal or sepal becomes a tapering stalk, like a
petiole, it is called the claw, (unguis.) Such a petal is called unguiculate ;
the expanded part being called the lamina, or limb. The pink is an example.

Alas I it is painful to make the confession — there is something frightfully
dry in the analysis of this charming object, the corolla, — an object which
nature has so beautifully adorned. In a modern work we read as follows :
" It is vexatious that the study of botany requires an acquaintance with
such a multitude of terms." Yes, this is vexatious — it is lamentable. It is
the will of heaven, that, in this fleeting world, there shall be no happiness
without alloy. We have a few steps yet to take in this thorny path. If
one must pay something for the privilege of being handsome, as we often
hear it said, there is no other condition, ladies, on which you can become —
I do not say learned — but well-informed. Let us, then, take courage.
These odious termshmust not be such bugbears. So I shall venture to state
that the regular kinds of corolla are as follows :

The belUshaped, which spreads and opens like a bell, as in the common
bindweed, (Fig. 24.)

The funnel-shaped, which enlarges gradually below, and spreads widely
at the top, like the convolvulus*

16 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

The salver-shaped, which has a short tube and a flat flower, like the
phlox, (Fig. 25.)

The wheel-shaped, having a very short tube, as in the myosotis.

The tubular, in which the tube is elongated, and narrow at its orifice.

Two forms of monopetalous corolla, not included in the above, are the
labiate, and the personate. The former presents two parts of unequal size,
placed one above the other, and opening like lips. In the latter, these lips
are closed.

The regular forms of polypetalous corolla are the rosaceous, the earyo-
pkyllaceous, and the cruciform. The papilionaceous corolla, so called from
a resemblance to the butterfly, constitutes an irregular variety.

Next comes the strap-shaped corolla, which belongs to compound
flowers.

Between the corolla and the stamens are found, sometimes, certain thin
and colored parts, to which Linnaeus gave the name of nectaries, on
account of the sweet juices which they secrete.

Not only is the corolla, as we have said, always arrayed in beautiful
colors, but these colors sometimes change. Some coquettish corollas vary
their dress three times in a single day. The gladiolus versicolor is such a
one. In the morning its hue is brown. This is its undress, which it soon
lays aside, to assume a robe of lively green. Towards evening it shows
off, with much self-complacence, in a dress of bright, clear blue.

Indeed, I must say to you, at the risk of its seeming commonplace, that
there never was — never will be, a resemblance so complete between two
things of different natures, as that which exists between women and flowers.
It is true that the latter have not the gift of speech, — mind, we do not say,
happily.

Independently of the rich hues which adorn it, the corolla has the advan-
tage of sending out delicious effluvia. This is the general rule — though
not, we confess, without many exceptions. A considerable number of
flowers have, actually, no odor. Some of our richest flowers are of this
description — as the dahlia and the camellia. Of others, again, the odor is
insupportably offensive — as in the case of one sort of geranium — of the
arum dracunculus, &c.

Stamens, Pistils. — The stamens and pistils are the organs of fructifica-
tion. Through them is effected that inexplicable mystery, the reproduction
of plants. Deprived of these organs, the plant is barren. From one part
of the stamen, called the anther, proceeds, at the propitious momenta fertHi-

LAJM£S' BOTANY, 17

zing dust, called the pollen. This is seen in those small yellow, or white,
or red, or violet-colored particles, which overspread the flower and the
pistils, and by which the plant is fecundated.

This grand discovery of the fecundation of plants, was made by Linnaeus.
We have already shown that plants feel. Linnaeus says that they love —
and, daring fellow that he is, he proves it, too ! There is nothing — we re-
peat it — which these savans will not do.

FRUCTIFICATION.

Now begins that process of ripening, to which we have already alluded.
Pistils and stamens wither — petals fall off— and the fruit appears, sustained
by the calyx, that nursing father, whose office is not even yet fully
discharged.

Fruit.— -The fruit consists of two principal parts — the pericarp and the
seed.

The pericarp is an envelope,-— sometimes dry and membranaceous —
sometimes crustaceous or woody— often more or less pulpy and juicy — and
containing within it one or more seeds. In botany, the term fruit — more
extensive than in its ordinary acceptation — is applied to every sort of
ripened pistil.

The pericarp' is sometimes so intimately connected and so identified with
the seed, that it is not easy to distinguish them. The pericarp frequently
consists of three parts, to wit : an exterior membrane, or epidermis, called
epicarp ; a fleshy substance, the sarcocarp ; and an interior membrane, the
endocarp. Had we not the best reasons for saying, at the commencement
of this treatise, that the philosophers are tyrants ? We allow to them
their epicarp, their sarcocarp, their endocarp. With them we acknowledge
that, at the season of maturity, the pericarp has the politeness to open, and
give a passage to the seed. Still, animated by a love of peace, we will
even confess that these complaisant pericarps, called dehiscent, are vastly
more amiable than the indehiscent pericarps, which allow the seeds to
escape, only when they fall through decay. Well ! let us hope that we have
got through with this thing. Alas ! these naturalists begin, but they never
end. With them, there is always something new under the sun. There
are, also, — if you please, — dissepiments, carpels, and sutures. Valves are

the pieces into Which the pericarp split*. Dissepiments are partitions sepa-

8

18 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

rating the cavities of the caxpels. The carpel may be considered as a
folded leaf. The line or seam formed by the cohering margins, is called
the inner or ventral suture — and that which corresponds to the midrib of
the lea£ the outer or dorsal suture.

The following are the principal names given to the different kinds of
fruit:

- The follicle is a carpel, which dehisces, or opens, by the ventral suture.
(Fig. 27.)

The legume, or pod, dehisces by both sutures, and separates into two
valves. The name is extended to all fruits of the pea tribe, though they
are not all dehiscent When a legume is divided transversely into small,
one-seeded cells, it is called a foment. •

The drupe is an indehiscent fruit, of the kind already alluded to. We
have in the peach a familiar example ; its outer skin is the epicarp — the
hard shell which contains the seed, is the endocarp — and the juicy pulp
which lies between them, is the sarcocarp.

The aehenium is a small, dry fruit, consisting of a single seed, which
does not adhere to the pericarp, nor open when ripe. In that delicious
fruit, the strawberry, numerous achemia are spread over the surface of a
fleshy receptacle.

The caryopsis is seen in the grain of wheat, rye, <fcc. It is an indehis-
cent, one-celled fruit, with a membranaceous pericarp, adhering firmly to
the seed.

The nut is a bony pericarp, which contains a single seed, and which
does not open. The involucre which sometimes encloses or surrounds the
nut, as in the cup of the acorn, and the burr of the chestnut, is called a
cupule.

The samara is a nut or aehenium, having an expanded or wing-like
apex ; as in the ash, maple, and elm.

The berry is a succulent fruit, the seeds of which, when, ripe, lose their
adhesion, and lie loose in the pulp. The gooseberry and the grape are fa-
miliar examples. (Fig. 20.) Even the orange is a berry, with a leathery
rind.

The pome consists of two or more cartilaginous carpels, surrounded by
a pulpy expansion of the receptacle, and invested by the thickened tube of
the calyx. The apple, pear, and quince are examples. (Figs. 32 and 33.)

The pepo is composed usually of three carpels, forming a three-celled,
fleshy, indehiscent fruit. It is invested by the calyx, and has a firm rind.
The cucumber, melon, and gourd are familiar examples. (Figs. 34 and 36.)

LADIES' BOTANY. 19

The size of fruits is often widely disproportioned to that of the plants
which bear them. The pumpkin, a creeping vine, bears a fruit of enormous
size, while that of the oak is very small. Physiologists have vainly
sought the reason for this anomaly. We advise them to consult La Fon-
taine, Book IX. Fable 4.

And yet we would not venture to say that La Fontaine had paid much
attention to the subject of pericarps. He was certainly inferior, in that
respect, to M. de Jussieu. On the other hand, the fables of M. de Jussieu
are much less amusing than those of La Fontaine.

THE HABITATION OF PLANTS.

Plants are by no means indifferent to climate. They have their appro-
priate soils and temperature. Some are found only in wild places, while
others flourish in cultured grounds. Many are natives of sandy regions —
while a few have their home among the rocks. Some can live only on
marshy grounds, where they are seen covering the surface of the water.
Finally, the sea has its vegetation — a vegetation which, in its luxuriance, is
unsurpassed by that of the most favored land on the globe.

There is scarcely a spot of earth where some vegetation cannot be
found : but the difference between the torrid, the temperate, and the frigid
zones, in this respect, is really immense. If we would see vegetation in all
its power and majesty, we must go to the region between the tropics.
There is that colossus of the vegetable world, the baobab, with a trunk, as
we have already said, thirty metres in circumference. There the palms
live and flourish — that remarkable family — compared with which our finest
trees show at disadvantage. In those climates, the grasses become shrubs,
and the ferns rise to the height of eight or nine metres. It is the region,
also, of the most exquisite fruits and the most delicious perfumes. No-
where is vegetation so vigorous and prolific, as in those countries where it
is nursed by the fervors of a tropical sun, and by the moisture of great and
overflowing streams.

But this exuberance of life, while it increases the ability of the strong,
would be fatal to the weak. Transport to these fiery climes, a frail, deli-
cate Parisienne, and how soon will she fade — how quickly and inevitably
she will perish ! Thus are we ever making comparisons between the two
kingdoms, — comparisons resulting from the fact, that out of one great ere-

20 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

ation, unique and single, as it came from the hand of God, we, in our pride,
have chosen to make three. Who is able precisely to tell, where one of
these three kingdoms ends, and the other begins ?

Natural history is a vast chain, in which not a single link is missing, and
vainly have the magnates of science sought to find a broken place. On
the borders of the mineral kingdom, there are individuals that vegetate, —
while upon those of the vegetable kingdom, are some that live.

Great heat, unaccompanied by humidity, is not favorable to vegetation.
Thus the difference is vast between the countries just referred to, and the
sandy deserts of Africa, parched by a burning sun, — those deserts, to
explore which, seems to be like devoting one's self to destruction, — those
deserts, which, on every side, offer no images but those of desolation and
death !

High degrees of heat are not fatal to all vegetation. Some plants have
been known to resist a temperature of eighty, and even of a hundred de-
grees— the latter being the point at which water boils.* In the hot springs
at Dax, a tremella has been seen to grow and to mature, in the water of
a fountain, which indicates constantly a temperature of seventy to seventy-
two degrees.

If the vegetation of temperate climes has not the splendor and the mag-
nificence of tropical plants, it is not inferior to them in graceful forms or in
abundance of products. Even the north can make its boast in this respect ;
for there are seen, towering towards the clouds, the lofty pine and hardy
fir-tree. On mountains, however, these trees are not found at the elevation
of two thousand metres and upward. In their place, we find the lote-tree
ajid the birclvr— trees that can brave a temperature of forty degrees below
zero,— a degree of cold sufficient to split the stoutest fir.

This phenomenon — the crocking of trees in cold weather — was fre-
quently noticed by thp Frpnch spldiers, during the disastrous Russian cam-
paign. On one occasion, a company of those poor fellows had seated
themselves on the snow, in the hope of getting some rest, when they heard
near them, a succession of violent explosions. " The enemy again !" said
they ; " always at our heels ! with this iron sky above us, and these bound-
less deserts of snow before us I" With a desperate energy they seize their
arpis, and advance towards the spot from which the sound came. But

* The centigrade thermometer is used in France. The space between the freezing and the
boiling points of water, is divided into one hundred degrees.

LADIES' BOTANY. 21

they find nothing there except trees, which the intensity of the frost had
burst, with reports resembling those of cannon.

The more nearly we approach the poles, the fewer plants we find. In
Spitzbergen, in Greenland, and in Kamtschatka, the number of species does
not exceed thirty.

Vegetation not only reaches to the tops of lofty mountains, but pene-
trates to the greatest depths. It is found in the very entrails of the earth —
its darkest caverns and deepest mines. Yet at these two extremities of
height and depth, it is limited to mushrooms and mosses.

In the ascent of a lofty mountain, one will find nearly the same changes
in the vegetation, which are noticed in travelling from the equator towards
the north pole. At the foot of the mountain may be seen the plants which
abound on level regions in the south of Europe. The lower zone is occu-
pied by oaks. Five or six hundred feet above, beeches grow. Still
higher, are yews, pines, and firs. Then comes the lote-tree, the birch, and
the rhododendron. Higher still, are daphnes, globularia, and the ligneous
cistaceae. In the snowy regions will be seen the saxifrages, and the prim-
roses. Last of all, come the lichens.

The vegetation which is now feeble, may in time become abundant and
vigorous. Great changes are constantly going on. Marshes are becoming
dry, and rocks, which are now bleak and bare, will hereafter, perhaps, sus-
tain majestic trees. In swamps, the surface of the water is at first covered
with a greenish scum. This consists of the frail plants called confervse, to
which succeed the sedge, the reed, and the reed-mace. Then follow the
mosses, which multiply with prodigious rapidity. As this vegetation goes
on, the decaying matter gradually reduces the water, which at length dis-
appears. And the case is similar with the rocks. Crustaceous lichens first
cover their surfaces with marble hues. From the decomposition of these,
spring lichens of a different sort. Upon their remains, at a later period,
the grasses take root ; and at length, from this ever-increasing vegetable
mould, rise the ligneous plants.

We have already remarked, that among plants, particular families inhabit
particular regions. But there is one family — that of the cereal grains —
which adapts itself to every clime. Admirable provision of that Provi-
dence, which, when it gave the earth to man, determined that he should
meet, at every step, with the evidences of its paternal and superintending
care!

22 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

THE DISEASES, THE DEATH, AND THE DECOMPOSITION

OF PLANTS.

The diseases of plants are of two sorts : those which affect only a part
of the plant, as ulcers and excrescences, the result commonly of wounds —
and general maladies, which extend to the whole plant.

Injuries produced by sharp instruments, are more readily healed than
those which are caused by dull ones. When the bark has been broken in
any part, cicatrization is effected by an extension in the edges of the bark,
which come together much thickened.

Bruised parts should be removed by the knife, so that the bark may pre-
sent smooth edges. When this is neglected, nodules and tumors appear,
and the wound becomeq incurable.

If a wound reaches into the heart of the stem, an unhealthy discharge
ensues, which often terminates in ulceration, rottenness, and death. Such
wounds are not incurable— but may often be arrested by a timely use of
cautery, or the knife.

Of all the general maladies, there is none better marked than that of
etiolation. The most common cause for this is deprivation of light. Plants
thus affected, are weak, slender, and pale. If the evil be not too far ad-
vanced, the affected plant may be restored by giving it the light. But this
must be done gradually. An immediate change will do more hurt than good.

The streaked and yellowish aspect exhibited by many plants, is almost al-
ways occasioned by an excess of sap, and the extravasation of their juices.

Cold has great influence upon plants. Their vessels and tissues are rup-
tured by the freezing of the sap, and the plant suffers, and perhaps dies.

The peach and the apricot sometimes have their leaves covered with a
whitish substance of nauseous taste. This is caused Jby a disease called
the miller, or honey- white. A tree thus attacked, may be cured by remo-
ving the leaves, which are in an unnatural condition, and by changing the
soil around the roots of the tree.

Diseases among plants are also caused by insects, and by the action of
parasitic vegetation.

The cerealia are liable to various maladies, which affect them as a class.
Wheat is subject to the rot, to smut, and to rust. Rot attacks the interior
portion of the grain. The hull becomes dry, and when it opens, discloses
only dust, which is very fine, black, and offensive.

LADIES' BOTANY. 23

There is a microscopic mushroom, called uredo segetum, which some-
times fastens on the seeds, and reduces them to a greenish brown powder. '
This is the disease called smut. Rust is owing to another s microscopic
mushroom, called uredo linearis. The only preventive of these different
maladies of the cereal grasses, is agitation by means of a tight cord. This
is carried by two individuals, and is made to sweep along upon the bending
grain. In this way, the germs of these diseases may for the most part be
removed.

The diseases of trees are often caused by the puncture of insects. The
thread-like balls found on roses — the nutgalls on the oak — and the sub-
stance called lac, are thus produced.

After it has languished for a while in decline, the plant loses its principle
of life, and becomes the prey of those external influences which decompose
it entirely.

The death of a tree is usually gradual. It commences most frequently
at the top. At the same time, the root is similarly affected. A tree may
be in this condition, and yet survive for a long time — although it never
grows afterward.

The decomposition of plants is among the most interesting of natural
phenomena. It differs, accordingly as it is effected through the agency of
air, of water, or of combustion.

The plant, in combustion, gives out light and heat. Its saline and oily
principles rise in the form of smoke. When this is condensed, it deposites
a part of the matter which ascends. This deposition is called soot, and
contains carbon, iron, and empyreumatic oil. There remains also an alka-
line mass, called ashes.

Plants rapidly decompose in the open air. Fermentation takes place,
and gases are evolved. The unvolatilized portion becomes mould.

If the decomposition of the plant be effected by water, the results are
different. In this way is produced the substance called peat.

Here ends our account of the physiology of plants. We have seen how
they are born and grow — how they flourish and reproduce themselves —
how they die and are decomposed. We have seen that they sleep and
wake— -that they move and feel — that they love— and that they suffer. It
remains for us to describe the manners of each tribe and family, with their
tastes, customs, and laws.

LADIES' BOTANY.

PART II.

CLASSIFICATION.

God alone knows how many species of plants there are on the surface of
our globe 1 As for us, miserable mortals, we have discovered only about
a hundred thousand. True, this number is increasing every day, and, with
the help of the savans, it will continue to grow unto the end of time. As
I have already remarked, these savans begin, but never finish.

In the mean time, a hundred thousand is a respectable number to start
with ; and if the description of each individual were required, it might be
given, with the aid of three or four of those patient and laborious natural-
ists, whose ponderous folios are enough to dismay the most intrepid reader.
Fortunately, there are ways of greatly simplifying this herculean task.

The artificial system of the great Linnaeus deserves a primary and hon-
orable mention, not only for its ingenuity and elegance, but for the vast
benefits which it conferred upon botanical science. In this scheme, the
classes and orders are founded on the number, situation, and connection of
the stamens and pistils. It is so simple as to be readily understood, and
answers well its original design — that of furnishing an expeditious and easy
method for determining the name of any plant. As a system, however, it
is neither philosophical nor complete. ** A complete system of botany will
comprise a methodical distribution of plants, according to their organization,
with their characters arranged in proper subordination ; so that the inves-
tigation of a particular species will bring to view, not only its name, (which,
separately considered, is of small importance,) but also its floral structure*
affinities, and whole natural history."*

-*-

•Gray.
4

26 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Such a system we call natural. Individual plants resembling one another
in the greatest number of important points, are assembled in groups, and
these groups are so arranged, that each one stands next to those with which
it is most nearly allied.

It is such a system — sketched originally by the illustrious Jussieu, but
modified, amplified, and improved by De Candolle, Endlicher, Lindley,
Brown, Torrey, and Gray — which we here present

The first great distinction made by nature in the vegetable world, is that
which separates plants into the Flowering and the Flowerless, or, as
they are also called, the Phjenogamous and Cryptogamous plants. Con-
fining ourselves to the former of these, we have another grand division of
nature, into two classes, of which, in their perfection, the oak and the palm,
respectively, are illustrious representatives. The distinction here is
founded on the manner in which the woody fibre is deposited in the stem.
In the former class, called Exogens, (or outside growers,) this takes place
in layers deposited between the inner pith and outside bark— presenting, on
a cross section, the appearance of concentric rings. In the other class,
called Endogenb, (or inside growers,) the deposite of woody fibre is made
internally and centrally, in bundles irregularly disposed. A cross section
presents the appearance of numerous dots — but there is no central pith, nor
are the rings or exterior bark easily separable from the wood.

We have already stated a distinction among plants, founded on the num-
ber of cotyledons. The embryo of every endogenous plant bears but one
cotyledon, or seed-leaf; and hence they are also called Monocotyledokous
plants. On the other hand, the embryo of plants with exogenous stems,
having always two cotyledons, the term Dicotyledonous is often applied
to them.

There are two or three families of plants, which, from the simplicity of
their fructifying organs, and other peculiarities, have been put into a class
by themselves. These are called Gymnospermous (or naked-seeded)
plants.

Of these great divisions, the Exogens are far the most numerous. As a
matter of convenience, this vast class is subdivided into three separate
classes, distinguished by the presence, the absence, or the union of the
petals. The Polypetalous Exogbnb are those which have both calyx and
corolla — the latter consisting of distinct petals. In the Monopbtalous
Exogens, the petals are united. When the petals are wanting, and the
floral envelope, if present, consists only of the calyx, the plant belongs to
the class of Apetalous Exogens.

LADIES' BOTANY.

27

The subdivisions of these six classes, called orders, or families, or tribes,
are the multitudinous genera, arranged in groups, as nearly as possible
according to their natural resemblances. With this brief explanation of
the principles on which it is founded, we present the following arrange-
ment.*

CLASS I.

POLYPETALOUS EXOGENS.

Ordbr 1* Ranunculacee Crowfoot

2 Dilleniacee Dillenia

3* Magnoliacee Magnolia

4* Anonace© Custard-apple

5 Schizandrace© Schizandra

6 Myristicace© Nutmeg

7 * Menispermacee Moonseed

8* Berberidace© Barberry

9* Cabombace© Water-shield

10* Nelumbiace© Sacred-bean

11 * Nymph©ace© Pond-lily

12* Sarraceniacea Fitcher-plants

13* Papaverace© Poppy

14* Fumariace© Fumitory

15* .Crucifers Cruciferous

16* Capparidacee Caper

17* Resedaces Mignonette

18* Violace©..... Violet

19 Sauvagesiacea Sauvagesia

20* Cistace© Rock-rose

21 Bixace© Arnatto

22* Droseracen Sundew

23* Hypericaoee St Johnswort

24 Rhizobolaceo Sonari-nut

25 Reaumuriace© Reanmnria

26 Dipterace© Dipterocarpus

Tribe Buttercup.

" Tropical trees.

" Tulip-tree.

" Papawof United States.

" Tropical shrubs.

" Tropical trees

c< Cocculus Indie us.

" May-apple.

" Brasenia.

" Water Chinquepin.

" Water-lily.

Side-saddle Flower.

Tribe Blood-root

" Corydalis.

" Mustard.

" Gynandropsis.

" Weld.

" Pans}'.

" Tropical herbs.

" Frostwort

" Tropical trees.

" Venus' Fly-trap.

M Elodea.

u South American trees.

" Mediterranean shrohs.

" Dryobalanops.

* A comparison of this part of the work with the original, will show numerous additions, and
several important changes. The list of orders here given, has been prepared with care, and cor-
responds, it is believed, with the latest authorities. The orders which are found in the northern
United States, are denoted by an asterisk, and are named and arranged, with a single exception, as
in the Manual of Professor Gray, just published, — a work which, for some time to come, must be
the highest botanical authority for this country. With the order, is also given the English family
name ; and, in a third column, either some familiar example, or the geography of the order. This
list is furnished by Professor Holton. Some of the emendations were absolutely necessary— and all
of them, it is believed, will add value to the work. — [Ta.

28

THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

OftDXR 27

28*

29

30

31

32

33*

34*

35

36*

37

38

39*

40*

41*

42

43*

44*

45*

46*

47*

48

49

50

51

52

53

54*

55

56

57*

58

59

60*

61*

62

63

64

65*

66

67

68

69

70

71

72*

73*

74*

• f

....Chlenace® Sarcolsjna

. . . .Elatinace© Waterwort

....Guttifere Gamboge

... .Marcgraviacea Marcgravia

....Tamaricacee Tamarisk

. . . . Fran keui ace® Frankenia

Caryophyllace® Pink

....Portulace© Pundane

....Ternstrcemiaces Camellia

Malvace® Mallow

. . . .Bombace® Durian

... .Byttneriacee Chocolate

Tiliace® Linden

Linace® Flax

Geraniacee Geranium

,. . . .Tropsolacea Nasturtium

Oxalidacee Wood-sorrel

....Balsaminaces Balaam

, . . . rLimnanthacee False-mermaid

, . . . .Xanthoxylace® . , Prickly-ash

, Anacardiacee...,, Cashew

Ochnace© Ochna

....Simarubacee ....Quassia

....Zygophyllace® Guaiacum

....Connarace© .Connaras

....Rulace© Rue

... . Amyridaces Frankincense

....Acerace® Maple

. . . .Malpighiace® Malpighia

....Erythroxylacee Coca

«<

M

Tribe ....Madagascar trees.

" .Water-pepper.

" Mangosteen.

" South American trees.

" Manna-tree.

" Mediterranean herbs.

« .Chickweed.

" Claytonia.

" Tea.

" Cotton.

" Baobab.

" Tropical trees.

BasBwood.

Flax.

" CranesbilL

" Indian Cress.

" Oxalis.

** Jewel-weed.

** Fkerkea.

" .Wafer-ash.

(( Sumach.

u .,., Tropical trees.

" .,, ,Tropical trees.

" Tropical plants.

Zebra-wood

Angostura.

Olibanum.

Negundo.

Tropical trees.

" South American trees.

«

<«

«(

<«

<«

.Hippocaetanace® Horse-chestnut " Buckeye.

...... .Sapindacee Soap-berry

...... .Vochysiace® Vochysia

TCelastraces3 r .Spindle-tree

Rhamnace© t Buckthorn

Hippocratace® , . . , .Hippocratea

Chailletiace® £hailletia

Pittoeporace® Pittosporum

Vitace® Vine

Olacace® Olax

Humiriace® Humirium

Aurantiace© , Orange

Meliacee Melia

...... .Cedrelace® Mahogany

....... .Tremandrace® Trcmandra

Polygalace® .f Milkwort

Leguminos® Bean

Rosace® Rose

" Balloon vine.

" South American trees.

M Bladder-nut

" Jujube.

" Tropical shrubs.

" South American trees

" Australian trees.

•' Virginian Creeper.

" Partridge-wood.

" Umiri Balsam-tree.

<( Lemon.

" China-tree.

" Satin-wood.

" Australian plants.

" Soneca Snake-root.

Locust

Apple.

<f

(4

LADIES' BOTANY.

29

Ordba 75
76

77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
93
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
103
103
104

.Calycanthacea Carolina Allspice Tribe Calycanthus.

Myrtacee Myrtle

* Melastomacee Melastoma

.Lythrace® Loose-strife

.Rhizophoracee Mangrove

.Alangiacee Alangium

.Combretaces Combretum

Tribe Pomegranate.

" Rhexia.

" Willow-herb.

" Tropical trees.

" East Indian trees.

" Tropical trees.

* Onagraces Evening Primrose Tribe ....(Enothera.

.LoasacecB Loasa

.Horaaliacea) Homalinm

.Cactacee Cactus

.Meeembryanthacee Ice-plant

.Grossulaces Currant

.Malesherbiaces Malesherbia

Tribe Mentzelia.

" Tropical trees.

" Prickly Pear.

" Mesembryanthemum.

" Gooseberry.

" South American herbs

* Paasifloracee Passion-flower " Grenadilla.

Samydace© Samyda

Turneracee Turnera

* Cucurbttacee Gourd

Datiscacee Datisca

Papayaces Papaw

Pangiacee Pangium

Begoniacen Begonia

* Crassulacee Orpine

Stmanacea? Suriana

* Saxifragacee , Saxifrage

* HamamelacefB Witch-hazle

BruniacetB Brunia

* Umbellifero Parsley

* Araliacesa Spikenard

* .Cornacea? ..., . Dogwood

" Tropica] trees.

" Tropical herbs.

" Melon.

" Tropical plants.

" Modecca.

" East Indian trees.

" Tropical plants.

" Stone-crop.

" .., One Tropical herb.

" Mitrewort.

" ..Hamamehs.

" Cape shrubs.

Caraway.

Ginseng.

" Bunchberry.

u

tt

CLASS II.

MONOPETALOUS EXOGENS.

Order 105 • Caprifoliacesf Honeysuckle Tribe

106* Rubiacea Madder

107 * Valerianacee Valerian

108* Dipsacee Scabious

109 Calyceracee Calycera

110* Composite Composite

111 * Lobeliaces Lobelia

112 Goodeniacee Goodenia

113 Stylidiacee Stylidium

1 14 * Campanulacea Bell-flower

115* EricacesB Heath

i<

.Elder.

i«

Partridge-berry.

" Spikenard.

" Teazel.

South American herbs.

n Aster.

" Cardinal-flower*

" Australian herbs.

« m9t m <« ««

" HarebeiL

" Whortleberry.

30

THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Ordkb 116 Epacridacee Epacris

«

117 Francoacee Francoa

118 * Aquifoliacee Holly

119* Ebenaceaj Ebony

120 Sapotaces Sapodilla

121* Plantaginacev Plantain

122* Plumbaginacee Leadwort

123 * Primulaces* ...Primrose

124 MyreinaceB Myrsine

125* Lentibulacee Bladderwort

126* Orobanchacee Broom-rape

127 * Bignoniacee ..Trumpet-flower*'

128 Goasneriaces Gessnora

129* Acanthacese Acanthus

130 * ScrophulariacesB Figwort

131* VerbenacetB Vervain

132* Labiate Mint

lS3 * Boraginacea Borage

134 Nolanaces Nolana

135 Brunoniacee Branonia

136 Ehretiacee Ehretia

137 Myoporacee Myoporium

138 Selaginacee Selago

139 * HydrophyUacee Water-leaf

140* Polemoniacem Greek Valerian "

141 * DiapensiaceiB Diapensia

142 Stilbacee Stilbo

143* Convolvulaces Bindweed

144 Cordiacee Cordia

145* Solanacee Nightshade

146* Gentianacee Gentian

147* Apocynaces Dogbane

148* Asclepiadaceo Milkweed

149 Jasminace® Jasmine

150* Oleacee Olive

Tribe Australian heaths.

Chilian herbs.

Mate*.

Persimmon.

Marmalade.

Plantain.

Marsh Rosemary.

.Cowslip.

Ardisia. r

Utricularia.

Beech-drops.

Catalpa.

Gloxinia.

Thunbergia.

Mullein.

Teak.

Sage.

.Comfroy.

Chilian herbs.

.Two Australian herfasw

Heliotrope.

Southern shrubs.

Cape herbs.

Ellwia.

Phlox.

Pyxidanthera.

Cape shrubs.

Morning Glory.

Tropical trees.

Potato.

Centaury.

Oleander.

SUkweed.

Jessamine.

Ash.

M

it

U

it

t*

U

ti

it

«

cc

C(

«

(I

tt

u

tt

tt

tt

tt

tt

tt

tt

tt

it

it

tt

It

it

tt

It

tt

CLASS III.

APETALOUS EXOGENS.

Order 151 * Aristolochiaces Birthwort

152 Nepenthaces) Nepenthe

153 * Chenopodiace® Goosefoot

154 * Amarantacee Amaranth

155* Phytolaccaces Pokeweed

156* Polygonacee Buckwheat

Tribe Asarum.

" Pitcher-plant

" Beet

" Globe Amaranth.

" Garget

" Dock.

'

LADIES' BOTANY.

31

I

Okokr

157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188

Nyctaginace© ...Nyctago

* Laurace© Cinnamon

Monimiace© Monimia

Gyrocarpace© ..Gyrocarpus

* .Tbymelace© , Mezereum

* Eleagnace© Oleaster

* Nyssace© Tupelo

Santalace© Sandal-wood

* Loranthace© Misletoe

Aquilariace© Aquilaria

Peneace© Penaea

Proteace© Protea

* Ulmace© Elm

* Saurorace© Lizard's-tail

Piperace© Peppor

Chloranthaces Chloranthus

* Ceratophyllace© Horuwort

«

«

Tribe Four-o'clock.

" Sassafras.

•' Tropical trees.

" Tropical trees.

" Daphne.

Shepherdia.

Pepperidge.

" Sanders-wood.

" Viscum.

•* Lign-aloes.

" Cape shrubs.

" Southern shrubs.

" .Celtis.

" Saururus.

" Cubebs.

.Tropical herbs.

One species.

it

((

* Callitrichace© Water-starwort " Six species.

* Podostemaces River-weed

* Euphorbiace© Spurge

Stackhousiace© Stackhousia

* Empetrace© Crowberry

* Juglandace© Walnut

* .Cnpulifer© Nut

* Myricace© Sweet-gale

Casuarinace© Casuarina

* Betulace© Birch

* Salicacee Willow

Lacistemace© Lacistema

* Balsamiflu© Sweet-gum

* Platanace© Plane-tree

* Urticace© Settle

«

(i

" Lacis.

" Croton.

" Australian shrubs.

" Corema.

Hickory.

Oak.

" Sweet Fern.

" Australian trees.

" Alder.

" Poplar.

" South American shrubs.

" .Storax-tree.

" Buttonwood.

" Fig.

CLASS IV

GYMNOSPERMS.

Ordkk 189* Conifers Pine

190 Gnetace© Gretum

191 Cycadace© Cycas

Tribe Cedar.

" Ephedra.

" Zarnia.

1

32

THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

CLASS V

ENDOGENS.

Order 192* Arace® Arum

193 Palmace® Palm

194* Lemnace® Duckweed

195 Pandanacee Pandanus

196* Typhacee ...Cat-tail

197* NaiadaceiB ..Pond weed

198* Alismace® Water-plantain

199 Butomaces Butomus

200* Hydrocharidace® .Frog's-bit

201* Orchidacee Orchis

202 Marantacee Arrowroot

203 Zioziberacee Ginger

204 Musace® Banana

205* Amaryllace® Amaryllis

206 * Hemodoracee Bloodwort

207 Burraanniaoee Burmannia

208* Iridace® Iris

209 .Bromeliace® Pine-apple

210* Dioscoreace® Yam

211 /Taccace© Tacca

212 Triuridace® Triuris

213* Smilacee Smilax

214* Liliace® Lily

215 Gilliesiace® Gilliesia

216* Melanthaces Colchicum

Tribe,

<«

«c

II

(f

II

Calla.

Cocoa.

" Duck's-meat.

" -Screw Pine,

.Cat-tail Flag.

.Eel-graaa.

...... Sagittaria-

Flowering Rush.

" Vallisneria.

" Ladies' Slipper.

" Canna

" Curcuma.

" Plantain.

" Narcissus.

" Aietris.

" Tropical herbs.

Crocus.

Spanish Moss.

" Dioscorea.

" ..Tropical herb.

•■ ..., .Brazilian herbs.

Trillium.

Tulip.

Chilian bulbs*

tfVeratrum.

/ " Bog Rash.

it

<(

«c

ii

<i

217* Juncace® Rush

218* Pontederiace® Pickerel-weed " Heteranthera.

219 Philydracee Philydra " East Indian herbs,

220* .Commelynacee Sptderwort " Tradescantia.

221* Xyridace® Yellow-eyed grass Tribe.... Xyris.

222* Eriocaulonacee Pipewort Tribe Button-heads.

223 Restiacee Restio " Tropical herbs.

224 Centrolepidace® Centrolepts " Australian weeds*

225* Cyperacee Sedge

226* Gramme® Grass

227 Balanophorace® Balanophora

228 .Cytinacee Cytinus

229 Raffleaiace® Rafflesfa

" Carex.

" Wheat

" Cynomoriam.

" Hydaora.

Brugmansia*

«

LADIES' BOTANY. 33

CLASS VI.

FLOWERLESS PLANTS.

Ou>n230* Equiaetacea Hone-tail Tribe Scouring Rush.

231* Filicee Fern n Brakes.

232* Lycopodiaces Club-moes " Ground Pine.

233* .Salviniace© , -Sakinia " Axolla.

234* leoetacen Qaillwort « Isoetee.

235* Muaci Moai " Urn Mom.

236* Hepatic© .- Liverwort " Marchantia.

237* Lichenea Lichen " Iceland Mom.

238* Fungi Mtwhroom " ToadatooL

239* Chances .Cham " Nitella.

240* Alg» < .Sea-weede - * Irish Mc

This formidable array of long names and technical terms is, we are well
aware, not particularly easy or agreeable. If we have succeeded in
making the subject intelligible and clear, it is as much as can reasonably be
aimed at in an affair of this sort. Pray do not forget, that no pleasure,
however small, can be procured without some cost — and that even the
hardest words grow soft and musical, when uttered by sweet and rosy lips.
Quitting now this thorny path of definitions and systems, let us visit some
of these numerous families, and gather from them such information and
amusement as we may.

CLASS I,

POLYPETALOUS EXOGENS.

Ordeh 1. RANUNcuLACEiE. The plants of the Crowfoot family are

either herbaceous or climbing. They all contain acrid juices, which, in

some genera, are narcotic and highly poisonous. Yet so beautiful are

many of the species, that they have long been favorites of the parterre.

Such, for instance, are the Virgin's bower, (Clematis) — the pasque-flower;

which blooms at Easter — the various kinds of Anemone, (wind-flower)—

the graceful Columbine, with its little spurs — the Delphinium or larkspurr

and the showy Paeony. The Buttercup, so carefully avoided by the cowa,

ft

34 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

and so carefully gathered by roving boys and girls, is a Ranunculus, The
Marsh Marigold, (Caltha,*) which, with its glossy petals, gilds the wet
meadows in early spring, is a plant of this tribe. The Ranunculus Flammula
has also been called beggar's plant, from the fact that mendicants, as a
means of creating sympathy, sometimes raise blisters on their skin, by the
aid of its irritating juice. The drastic Hellebore, so renowned among the
Greeks and Romans for its virtue in cooling and clearing the brain, and the
deadly Aconite, belong to the Ranunculace®.

Order 2. Magnoliacbje. The Magnolias are shrubs and trees— the
glory of their native forests, and splendid ornaments of the garden or
park. They are all natives of Northern America and of Eastern Asia.
The Magnolia grandiflora attains sometimes the height of a hundred feet-
bearing on its shapely column a magnificent head of dark green leaves
and milk-white flowers. The leaf of the Magnolia macrophylla is some-
times three feet in length, while its fragrant flowers are eight or nine
inches in diameter. The beautiful Magnolia conspicua is an emigrant
from China, where it has long been an imperial favorite. To this order
belongs also the Liriodendron, (tulip-tree.) In the forests of the United
States, this tree often reaches a gigantic size. Its symmetrical proportions,
and its rich foliage and flowers, have made it a favorite in Southern
Europe, where it is extensively cultivated as an ornamental tree.

Order 4. AnonacejE. Inter-tropical plants, some of which are culti-
vated on account of their fragrant flowers, and others for their fruits of
delicious pulp. The custard-apple is an example. Sweet sop, sour sop,
Cheirimoger.

Order 8. Berberidace^. Of this we have a type in the common
barberry. To whom is it not familiar, with its prickly stems, and its
scarlet clusters of sour berries ? •

Order II. NrMruMACKM. Fragrant and beautiful children of the
water — consecrated by the fanciful mythology of Greece to the nymph*
of the ponds and streams. These floating flowers are white, blue, yellow,
and rose-colored. The Nymphaea and the Nuphar are the principal genera.

* The cmllho, in thk country, k popularly bat enoneooely called oowdip. It u often wed af •
pot-herb

\

LADIES' BOTANY. 35

Order 13. Pap aver ace m. Herbs, whose milky or colored juices are
acrid or narcotic. Many varieties of the Poppy, and among them the
Eschscholtzia from California and Oregon, are cultivated for their beauty
as garden-flowers. The Celandine (Chelidonium) and the Blood-root (San*
guinaria) belong to this order. But it is that powerful narcotic principle,
which modern chemistry has extracted under the name of morphine, that
gives to the Poppy tribe its mighty importance. The opium of commerce
is obtained from the Papaver Somniferum. This great anodyne of the ma-
teria medica, has soothed and relieved many a sufferer. Yet it may well
be questioned whether, on the whole, it has been a blessing to mankind.
Vast quantities of it are used in the East, as a means of excitement and
intoxication. Its peculiar effect — the strange, delightful, but ruinous de-
lirium which it produces— has often been described by the poor victims of
this fatal habit. Nothing can exceed the infatuation of those who have
surrendered themselves to its influence. In China, a few years since, the
use of it had become so general and alarming, that it was prohibited by the
emperor on pain of death. Finding all edicts and penalties ineffectual, he
interdicted the importation. But the English, to whom commerce is every
thing, went to war for their opium. The imbecile Chinese could do
nothing against British skill and valor — and the mighty sovereign of the
Celestial Empire was compelled, at last, to leave his infatuated subjects at
full liberty to poison themselves. There are those who see in this the
march of civilization.

Order 15. Crucifbra. There is no mistaking of the family likeness
among the different members of this tribe. Their watery and generally
pungent juices, their cruciform flowers, their pod-like fruits, &c, are traits
easily perceived and remembered. This is the home of the cresses, the
mustards, the rockets, radishes, cauliflowers, and cabbages. Here we find
the far more valuable turnip, ruta-baga, and woad. Nor is it without a
touch of romance. Picciola herself — that precious wall-flower, that con-
soler of the prisoner, that inspirer of genius — is one of the crucifers.

Order 16^ Capparidicea. The capers of commerce are the pickled
buds of the Capparis Spinosa.

Order 17. Resbdacea. Reseda — Mignonette— what a host of pleasant
thoughts these simple words recall I

30 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Order 18. Violacbjc. "The Pansy, freaked with jet." The Violet,
too, — apt emblem in every age of that modest goodness 'which seeks con-
cealment, but is perpetually betrayed by the fragrance of its own good
deeds !

Order 22. Droseracea. That singular sensitive plant — that Domitian
of the vegetable world-^which for mere sport, as it seems, catches and
puts to the torture so many poor flies— pis one of the Sundew family.

Order 23. Hypericaceji. These are the St. Johnsworts, so well
known, with their dotted leaves and their acrid juices.

Order 29. Guttifer*. Distinguished by their acrid properties — yet
with one remarkable exception, — the delicious Mangosteen.

Order 33. Caryophyllacea. Many of the plants in this order are of
the ornamental class. Such are the Lychnis, and especially the Dianthus,
or Pink, which, with all its fragrant varieties, belongs here.

Order 34. Portulaceje. The common Purslane is well known as a
troublesome weed. Some of the species are cultivated for their flowers.

Order 35. TernstrcbmiacejE. An order not to be overlooked in a
Botany for Ladies ; for here we find not only the beauteous Camellia, and
other charming flowers, but Thea, (Tea,) with its delicious aroma and its
ethereal stimulus.

Order 36. Malvaceae. A beneficent family, full of mucilaginous and
emollient virtues, which have long been known and appreciated. Althaea
officinalis is the well-known Marsh-mallow, or the Guimauve. Okra, so
much used in soups by the inhabitants of some countries, is the fruit of the
hibiscus esculentus. The Althaea (Hollyhock) and some other species, are
cultivated on account of their flowers. What person is there, whose child-
hood was passed in the country, who has forgotten the common Mallows,
or the little cheeses, which he used to hunt for and collect, as a choice
treasure ? But altogether the most important plant of this order, is the
Gossypiurn. As a protection, nature has wrapped the seeds of this plant in
a ball of vegetable wool. But when one considers the immense capital and
the multitude of hands now employed in the processes of multiplying)

LADIES' BOTANY. 37

twisting, and weaving these silken fibres, — when he thinks of the vast ac-
cession to human comfort, which has resulted from the general distribution
of the cheaper fabrics, — when, in a word, he sees that the downy contents
of these small pods have, under the combined operation of industry and
ingenuity, become a gigantic element of national power— one of those great
levers, in fact, which regulate the movements of mighty empires — can he
doubt that a creative Providence intended that cotton should be something
more than a wrapper for its own seeds ?

Order 37. BoMBACEiE. This order contains what is probably the
largest plant in the world — the Adansonia, or Baobab of the African forests.
Think of a tree whose trunk is ninety feet in circumference ! Cheirostemon
Platanoides — a singular Mexican plant, whose flower resembles a hand with
long claws.

Order 38. Byttneriaceje. Tropical plants, with properties nearly
allied to those of the two orders last named. Theobroma Cacao is a South
American tree. From its seeds, when roasted and ground, chocolate is
made.

Order 30. Tiliaceje. The Tilia Americana, in its native country, is
generally called basswood, or white-wood, and furnishes a light, clear-
grained wood, exceedingly valuable for certain purposes. The Linden, so
much used as an ornamental tree, is the Tilia Europsa. Russian mats are
made from the inner bark of the linden. Its flowers are the favorite resort
of bees, and furnish the richest honey.

Order 40. Linace^. A small family, but useful — for it contains the
Flax. The woody fibre of its bark is spun and woven, and from its seeds a
valuable oil is expressed.

Order 41. Geraniacea. Shrubby and generally strong-scented plants.
The cultivated Geraniums are species of the Pelargonium, from the Cape of
Good Hope.

Order 42. TROPiEOLACEiE. The garden Nasturtium is a Tropaeolum.

Order 44. BalsaminacejE. You may find an example in almost every
flower-garden. Did you ever touch the Touch-me-not ?

38 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Order 46. Xanthoxylacea. Aromatic and bitter herbs, the leaves of
which are marked with pellucid dots. The Prickly Ash of the north is a
Xanthoxylum. So also is the Ailanthus Gtandulosus, which, in spite of the
offensive odor of its flowers, has become a great favorite as an ornamental
tree.

Order 47. An acardiacejB. Some members of this family are extremely
poisonous. The Rhus Venenata, (Poison Sumach,) called also poison dog-
wood, often communicates its poisonous qualities by its exhalations. Rhus
Toxicodendron is a poisonous climbing plant, well known under the name of
poison ivy. The common Sumach is at once innocent and useful. The
Pistacia nut and the Cashew nut are eaten, and the Mango is a refreshing
tropical fruit.

Order 49. Simarubaceje. Trees and shrubs with juices intensely
bitter, and which are much used in medicine.

Order 50. Zygophyllacejb. Trees whose wood is hard, tough, and
heavy, as is shown in Lignum Vitae, which is the wood of Guaiacum Offici-
nale. From the same source is obtained the gum guaiacum.

Order 52. Rutacea. Strong-scented, bitter {Hants, exemplified by Buo
and Fraxinella. The Angostura bark, so valued in medicine, is furnished by
a plant of this order.

Order 54. Acer ace ^e. The Maple is useful for timber, and pleasant for
shade. One species, Acer Saccharinum, furnishes the pioneers of the forest
with a valuable substitute for the product of the cane. With the first frosts
of autumn, the foliage of the maple-trees turns often to a beautiful crimson.

Order 56. Erythroxylaceje. The Erythroxylon Coca is a plant of
Peru, and has long played, in that interesting land, a part no less impor-
tant than that of Opium in Asia, and of Tobacco in North America ana
Europe. It is a shrub about six feet high, and is cultivated extensively*
The leaves of the shrub are removed, carefully dried, and put up in sacks.
These leaves are either chewed by the natives, or drunk as a simple infu-
sion. In small quantities, it is slightly narcotic ; but in its general effects
it differs greatly from opium. To the poor native — the hard-laboring
miner — it is the plant of plants. Three times at least every day, he W*

LADIES9 BOTANY. 39

pends his ill-paid labors, to revel in the luxury of his beloved Coca. It is
is is . generally believed by these people, that an increased quantity of labor can
rii;! be performed on a given quantity of food, through the use of this article.

mi! Certain it is, that the use of it greatly diminishes the appetite for food. In

the elevated regions of the upper Andes, where the air is so thin that
breathing is a labor, and all bodily exertion is exceedingly fatiguing, a
draught of Coca is said by travellers to counteract entirely the enervating
effects of the mountain atmosphere. Armed with this, they can pursue
their wild game .through the forests and over the precipices of that rough
hunting-ground, and, scarcely conscious of fatigue, return laden with booty.
When we first learned the virtues of this remarkable plant, the wish arose
in our heart, that an article so extraordinary might be added to our some-
what scanty list of narcotic and stupifying poisons. To the poor tobacco*
chewer, who has almost spit himself away ; to the withered cigar-smoker,
all whose juices seem to have exhaled ; to the snuff-taker, whose whole
frame has become so imbued with the nicotian principle, that he seems to
you a mere walking bladder of Scotch maccaboy ; to all these, we thought the
Coca would come as a plant of new life. The introduction of a new class
of stimuli, — the strength-giving properties which we are assured that they
possess,— and especially their qualities in an economical point of view,
seem to make Coca just the thing for the exhausted tobacco-chewer. But
here is something more : — " Those who masticate Coca, have a very bad
breath, pale lips and gums, greenish and stumpy teeth, and an ugly black
mark at the angles of the mouth. An inveterate coquero may be known at
the first glance." Let him stay in Peru I

0

In* Order 57. Hipfocastanacea. The Horse-chestnut and the Buckeye

<f- require no commemoration.

0 Order 60. Celastrace/E. Bladder-nut, (Staphylaea,) Bitter-sweet, (Ce-

lastrus.) Burning-bush and Strawberry-bush, two kinds of Euonymus, are
.jj examples.

*

* Order 65. Vitace^. The Vine is the only genus of importance. It
is found in many parts of the world, but flourishes best in mild climes, and

* especially in volcanic countries.

Order 61. Rhamnace-*. The Buckthorn is used in America for hedges,
and answers the purpose well. The famous jujube paste is obtained from
the Zizyphus, a plant of this order.

40 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

"I still remember," says a traveller, "the impression made upon my
mind, when I first beheld the great garden of Mount Vesuvius. On every
side were stretched out the long shoots of the vine, which, as they inter-
mingled with one another, in every possible direction, presented splendid
clusters of grapes to the parched and weary traveller. There were no
tough skins, no coriaceous seeds, as in the grapes of other lands. Skin,
pulp, seed, — all seemed to melt into a delicious juice. When this modern
Eden has been traversed, and the cave of the hermit is left behind, vegeta-
tion gradually diminishes, and soon ceases wholly. The .eye now rests on
fields of lava. The path is steep and precipitous. But the summit at
length gained, one is fully recompensed for all his toils, in the magnificent
prospect that spreads out before him. On the left you may behold Cape
Sorrento, the islands Capri and Procita, with Portici, Toft-re del Greco, and
the Mediterranean Sea. Upon the right, is the enchanting bay of Naples,
and the grand amphitheatre which is formed upon its shores by the city,
the hill of Pausilippo, Puzzuoli, and the promontory of Misenum* Behind
you, lie the mountains of Calabria, and the city of Pompeii ? while the hill
of the Camaldoli terminates the glorious prospect.

" While I was gazing at this spectacle, I heard sounds which came from
the interior of the mountain, and which were succeeded by pillars of flame
shot high into the air. These either fell back into the earth like vast
sheaves of fire, or rolled in torrents down the mountain side— which looked
like a fiery sea. I left this scene of marvels, filled with that sublime won-
der which such sights cannot fail to awaken. As we descended the moun-
tain, the guide showed me spots where the vine grows with astonishing
fertility. So favorable to the growth of that plant, are the balmy sky, the
genial soil, and the heat of the mountain, that one ceases to wonder at the
strange fatuity with which the inhabitants adhere to a spot full of dangers-"

Order 68. Aurantiace^e. The Orange, Lemon, Shaddock, and Citron,
require not our feeble praise. These natives of the farthest east have been
transported and transferred to every part of the world where the climate is
favorable, and may be found everywhere — now garnishing the dessert — now
cooling and refreshing the parched lips of the sick. The flowers yield an
essential oil, much valued as a perfume. The wood is compact and beauti-
ful, and is employed in the arts*

Order 69. Meliace^e. Found mostly within the tropics in Asia and
America. Several of the species are in high medicinal repute among tb*

LADIES' BOTANY. 41

inhabitants of these climes, while others furnish them with delicious fruits.
The Pride of China, which has been so general a favorite, as a tree for
ornament, is the Melia Azedarach-

Obder 70. Cedrelacejs. Trees of fragrant, compact, beautifully- veined
wood. The Mahogany (Swietenia Mahogani) and the Satin-wood, (Chlo-
roxylon Swietenia,) are examples well known. The former is a majestic
and beautiful tree of the West Indies and Central America. Although it is
little more than a century since this wood first came into use in Europe, so
valuable has it now become, that a single tree has been sold in London for
nearly fifteen thousand dollars.

Order 72. Poltgalaceje. The Seneca Snake-root (Polygala Senega) is
well known as an herb of power. This and many other plants of the same
family, are reputed antidotes to snake-bites.

Order 73. LEGUMiNosiE. A great and beneficent order, abounding in
plants of rare beauty, as well as of varied utility. The Cercis of Turkish
gardens, with its brilliant purple flowers, and the Acacia, with its graceful
foliage, its flowers, and its valuable timber, belong here. So do the Labur-
num, the Cytisus of classic fame, and those plants of the heath, the Furze
and the Broom. The Bean, the Pea, and the Vetch, — the Clover, the Trefoil,
and the Lucerne, with all their immense importance, are Leguminous plants.
Here, too, we find those valuable gums, Kino, Tragacanth, Arabic, and Sen-
egal— the Balsams of Copaiva, of Peru, and of Tolu. To it we owe some of
the most valuable of dyes — the Brazil-wood, the Logwood, the red Sandal-
wood, and, more important than all, Indigo. The Sweet-clover and the
Tonga-bean derive their fragrance from the same principle. Catechu and
Senna, Licorice and Tamarinds, are found in this order. The Rose- wood,
which, to some extent, has supplanted even Mahogany, is a Mimosa from
Brazil. Among the trees of this order, are some of the largest known.
There are, it is said, Locust-trees in Brazil, sixty feet in circumference, and
supposed to be more than two thousand years old.

Order 74. Rosacea. Nearly allied by botanic affinities to the Legu-
minosae, and living with them harmoniously and benevolently, almost every-
where, next come the Rosaces. To name only the more prominent
members of this order, is to recall to every mind that which is most deli-
cious in taste, most beautiful to the sight, and most refined in odors. For

6

42 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

here belong the Peach, Nectarine, Apricot, the Phim, the Cherry, and the
Almond. Here, too, we find the Strawberry, Raspberry, and Blackberry ;
and here are the Quince, the Apple, and the Pear. Add now the Rose, and
you have given to this order its crowning glory. Fortunate Roses ! — fortu-
nate, that the affinities of science allow you to be placed in so happy
alliance. We love to think of you as the fair, blooming sisterhood of this
noble and generous family. And ye, fair readers, learn here the superior
excellence of the natural system. These benignant children of the earth,
so closely united by consanguinity and good feeling, are no longer kept
separate and remote. Must we confess it, even in this amiable family, one
lurking assassin has been found. Prussic acid, than which there is not a
poison more swiftly sure, is contained in the bark, leaves, and kernels of
several of these plants, and particularly abounds in the leaves of the Ce-
nsus Caroliniana, and in the Cherry-laurel of the old world.

Order 75. Calycanthace^e. The Carolina Allspice, (Calycanthus,)
and the Chimonanthus, a Japanese plant, are cultivated for their fragrance.

Order 76. Myrtacejs. Trees and shrubs — some of which are distin-
guished for their beauty, others for their fruits, and others again for their
vast height and size. The immense gum-trees (Eucalypti) of New Hofland
rise often to the height of one hundred and fifty feet before they send out a
branch — and standing there like some vast colonnade, sustain aloft their
verdant architraves and ceilings of light and waving foliage.

The Guavas are Myrtaceae — pulpy natives of the western world, which
have been conveyed to the East. They make a cooling and astringent con-
serve, much admired. Cloves are only the dried flower — the buds of
Caryophyllus Aromaticus ; Allspice is the dried fruit of Eugenia Pimenta.

The celebrated Cajeput oil is obtained from a Melaleuca, common in the
Moluccas. Nor are these all. The Jamrosade and the Rose-apple of the
East, so esteemed for their balsamic odors — and last, not least, the Pome-
granate, indigenous to the East, but cultivated in all warm countries,—
together with many valuable fruits, which we cannot name — help to swell
the virtues of this truly valuable order.

Order 78. Ltthracba. In Egypt, and some other parts of the East,
woman has a singular fancy for dyeing her finger-tips of an orange color.
The substance called Henni, by which they effect this, is obtained from
Lawsonia Inermis.

LADIES* BOTANY. 43

Order 79. RHizoPHORAcg.fi. The Mangroves of tropical coasts are per-
haps the most remarkable. These send down aerial roots, and, continually
spreading and thickening over the muddy ground, form at length thickets
impenetrable almost to the elements.

Ordek 82. Onagraceje. The Evening Primrose, (GEnothera,) and the
showy Fuchsias, are the only plants of this order to which we shall refer.

Order 85. Cactacejs. Strange plants these, usually leafless, but with
stems of every shape, from that of a hemisphere to three-angled and many-
angled columns. The Cacti are all natives of America, and with one or
two exceptions, are tropical. Their flowers are generally large and showy.
Some of the Cacti bear fruits, and others yield refreshing juices. Hence
Bernardin de Saint Pierre has called them "the vegetable springs of the
desert." The Cochineal, that insect which furnishes the rich scarlet of the
arts, is fed entirely upon the Cactus. We must not pass unnoticed the
Cactus Grandiflorus, or Night-blooming Cereus. The flower of this plant
begins to open in the evening, between seven and eight o'clock — is fully
blown by eleven — and by three or four in the morning, begins to fade and
perish. Sometimes several flowers will open in the same night, and there
will be a succession of them for several nights. The calyx, when ex-
panded, is six inches and even more in diameter — the colors are yellow
within, and dark brown without.

Order 86. Mesbmbryanthacbjb. All know the Fig Marigold, whose
surface, covered with shining vesicles, has acquired for it the name of Ice-
plant

Order 87. Grossulacba. Here belong our old, familiar friends, the
Currant and the Gooseberry.

Order 89. Pabsifloracb*. Passion-flowers are the glory of South
America and of the West Indies, where they overspread the trees of the
forest with running vines, which bear at one time singular and beautiful
flowers, and at another, valuable fruits. The use to which the zealous
Catholics who conquered these regions, turned the remarkable form and
fancied resemblances of some of these flowers, is well known.

Order 93. Cucurbitacbjs. Succulent herbs climbing by tendrils.

44 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

They are mostly natives of the tropics, although many kinds grow well in
northern latitudes. Need we name the Cucumber, Squash, Gourd, the
Pumpkin and Melon ? The plants of this order are not all equally harmless
with those just named. Elaterium and Colocynth, substances of a highly
poisonous quality, are derived from Cucurbitacese.

It happened some time since, that we were present at a meeting of natu-
ralists, where some of the profane were admitted. The Cucumber family
was spoken of. " A very innocent family/' said one ; " the melon espe-
cially. Somewhat insipid, it is true, and watery, and debilitating, with an
odor slightly nauseating — but still perfectly harmless."

" Sir," said one of the uninitiated, " with all due respect for your opinion,
I claim the privilege here most solemnly to declare, that I execrate
melons !"

This occurred a few minutes before the hour appointed for the banquet.
The words produced some emotion, for it was in the month of July, and
some choice melons upon the sideboard sent a penetrating odor into the
saloon where we were, which seemed highly agreeable to the olfactories of
the assembled savans.

" I perceive," said the antimelonist, " that you are taken somewhat by
surprise. Hear my story. I once had a brother. He was one of nature's
noblemen. He had the strength of Hercules, was as intellectual as Mon-
taigne, and more learned than Aristotle himself. It was in the year 1824 :
he had just been admitted as an advocate, and having been married soon
after, he established himself in Paris, in the Latin Quarter, Rue Percee,
No. 12. On the 23d of August in this fatal year, he was just about to sit
down to dinner with his young wife, when the latter expressed a desire for
a melon. ' But you must buy it yourself,' said she, ' for we have never
had a decent one, that you did not bring/

" My poor brother, like all men of superior talent, was superstitious. On
the corresponding day of the preceding year, a carriage had run over him
in the Rue Dauphine. When he recovered from the effects, he made a
solemn resolution never to leave his house on the anniversary of that event.
But the young wife insisted, and so strongly, that he went out bareheaded,
meaning to go only to the end of the street. Scarcely had he crossed the
threshold of the carriage entrance, when an enormous mass, hurled from
the fifth story above, struck his head and laid him prostrate. When they
took him up, he was dead. And now for the cause of this terrible calamity.
A laborer on his way home, had bought, for a few sous, an enormous melon.

LADIES' BOTANY. 45

On reaching his attic, he put his knife into the huge mass, but it sent forth
a putrid odor. Enraged at his ill luck, the wretch hurled the melon from
the window. Were not an over-ripe melon something dreadful, I should
not now have this misfortune to lament — a misfortune of which all Paris
talked for twenty-four hours, never to think of it afterward."

Order 94. PapayacejE. The Papaw-tree is cultivated in the tropics for
its fruit, which must be cooked before it is eaten. The juice of this fruit
contains fibrine, a substance almost entirely confined to the animal king-
dom. The toughest meat is said immediately to become tender, when
hung up among the leaves ; and old hogs and old poultry, fed upon the
leaves and fruit, become tender in a few hours. What an invaluable treas-
ure such a tree would be to some of our meat-sellers !

Order 97. Crassulacea. Stone-crop, Live-for-ever, and House-leek,
are examples, well known by the symmetry of their flowers. The struc-
ture of these plants is such, that they live and flourish upon the driest
rocks, and in the most arid, sunburnt spots, where nothing else could live.

Order 99. Saxifrag acb^e. Small herbaceous plants, usually with white
flowers and glandular stems. Some of the species, however, have yellow
flowers, and some have red. They are inhabitants of the colder regions,
and beautifully adorn the mountain turf, even where it borders on perpetual
ice. The Hydrangea, or Hortensia, as some call it, is one of the order.

Order 102. UmbelliferjE. Hollow-stemmed plants, whose flowers are
formed in umbels, either simple or compound. * The Parsnip, Carrot, Cel-
ery, Anise, Caraway, and Coriander, are known to every one, and held in
just esteem. Yet these are not all so innocent as they appear. Celery
(Apium graveolens) was a fierce savage of the wilds, armed with enven-
omed arrows, until cultivation took him, and by keeping him half-buried in
the earth, drew off his deadly properties, whitened him up, and finally made
him not only a harmless, but a very agreeable, civilized being, whom we
are pleased to meet at our tables. Galbanum and Asafoetida, those valued
drugs, are umbellifers of the East. The Laser Cyrenaicum is supposed to
have been one of this order. The substance obtained from it' was valued
at its weight in gold. The image of the plant was struck upon the medals
of the Cyrenian princes, and miraculous virtues were ascribed to it. The
Conium Maculatum (Hemlock) yields an acrid poison. The Cicuta Macu-

46 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

lata, (Water Hemlock of America,) and Cicuta Virosa of Europe, are
deadly in their effects. Science has never fully decided from which of
these plants the executioner of Socrates prepared the fatal dose which
brought him to his end. It matters not. There stands out the awful deed,
an eternal warning against blind and cruel bigotry.

The strong resemblance of some of these plants to the known and inno-
cent members of the family, has led to many fatal mistakes. Children
ought early and earnestly to be cautioned to let the Umbellifene alone.

Order 103. Araliacejs. A small order, botanically similar to the Um-
bellifene. Some of its plants are largely used for their aromatic and gently
tonic properties. It will be sufficient to name the Spikenard, the Wild Sar-
saparilla, the Angelica-tree, Ginseng, and Hedera, (the Ivy.)

Order 104. CornacejE. The Cornus Cannadensis, a low herb, and the
Cornus Florida, or Dogwood, are the only plants we name. The latter is
well known, filling, as it does, the woods in different parts of the United
States, with its early and showy flowers. Its bark contains a principle
scarcely inferior in virtue to Cinchona.

CLASS II.

MONOPETALOUS EXOGENS.

Order 105. Caprifoliaceje. The Snowberry, the Elder, and the Vi-
burnum, are familiar examples of this family — but its chief glory is the
Honeysuckle, in all its graceful and fragrant varieties. From what un-
known ages has it not been the poet's theme, and the gardener's pride !
Beneath its odorous bowers, how oft has love breathed his first sigh, and
youthful hope indulged his first day-dream — dreams how delicious, yet how
delusive !

Order 106. Rubiacejb. Shrubs, trees, and herbs, a very numerous and
highly important company. Madder and several of the Galiums furnish
valuable dyes. Here belong Peruvian Bark and Ipecacuanha, so justly
valued for their remedial virtues. Within the tropics, the variety of plants
belonging to this order is immensely great — end not a few of them are con-

LADIES' BOTANY. 47

sidered medicinally useful in the regions where they grow. The Garde-
nias, Hindsias, Ixoras, Bouvardias, and Catesbaeas have flowers unsurpassed
in beauty and fragrance. Finally, it is in this connection that we find
Coffee, which is the seed of Coffea Arabica. Though the use of this berry
dates back but a few hundred years, it has now become an article of vast
commerce, and one of the most prized comforts of the world. The Coffee-
tree is a native of Yemen, and the best coffee still comes from that country ;
but it has been transplanted to nearly all the warmer regions of the world,
and vast quantities are carried to Europe and America, from the islands ot
the East Indian, as well as from those of the West Indian Archipelago.
The general introduction of this article, and that of its kindred plant, Tea,
— gentle stimulants, " which cheer, but not inebriate," — has probably done
more than all other causes together, for the promotion of temperance.

Order 107. Valerian ace^. The Valerian of medicine is from the roots
of Valerianalis Officinalis. This substance is said to intoxicate cats.
Spikenard, so renowned of old, and so precious, is the root of the Nardos-
tachys, found in the north of India. It is still valued for medical proper-
ties, as well as for its odor.

Order 108. Dipsaceje. The Scabious, well known as a cultivated
flower, and the Teasel, employed by manufacturers in dressing their cloth,
are the only two we name. The part of the plant used to raise the nap in
cloth, is the dried head, which bristles all round with hard, stiff, thorny
bracts. Various attempts have been made to accomplish this object by the
use of mechanism — but as yet, nothing has been found at all comparable to
the Teasel.

Order 110. Composite. These are the compound flowers of the older
botanists. In one respect it is a very important order, for it comprises
within its limits about one-tenth part of all known plants. The peculiar
structure of their flowers is exemplified in the Sunflower and the Dande-
lion. It may be stated as a general fact, that a bitter and astringent prin-
ciple pervades the plants of this order. Specially distinguished are the
Chamomile, the Boneset, Elecampane, Wormwood, Tansy, Southernwood,
Mayweed, and Burdock. A few of its plants are eaten : such are Lettuce,
Salsafy, Scorzonera, Endive, the Artichoke, and the Jerusalem Artichoke.
Saffron, which is raised for its yellow dye, is the Carthamus Tinctorius.
The roots of the Wild Succory are much used in France, as a substitute

48 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

for Coffee, or to improve its flavor. The Asters and Dahlias are among the
ornaments of the order.

We cannot take leave of the Composite without expressing our unquali-
fied admiration of the persevering zeal, the patient industry, and the
discriminating sagacity of those untiring botanists, who have actually dis-
covered, examined, and described nearly ten thousand plants, all possessing
the distinctive features of one great natural family, yet each differing from
the others so far as plainly to constitute it a distinct species !

Order 111. Lobeliace^b. The Lobelia Inflata, often called Indian To-
bacco, is one of the most dangerous poisons. It has played a conspicuous
part in the drama of empiricism, and has numbered not a few of the cred-
ulous and deluded, among its victims.

Order 114. CampanulacejE. These are. the Bellflowers, so various,
and so beautiful, and so universally admired.

Order 115. Ericacea. Huzzah! Here come the Huckleberries, Blue-
berries, and Bilberries. Come, boys and girls, get your birch-bark baskets
and your tin pails, and away to the woody pastures. Glorious epoch!
But perhaps you never went a huckleberrying when you were young. If
so, we pity you with all our heart. Here are beauteous flowers, too, from
the humble Heath itself, to the Kalmias, the Azaleas, and Rhododendrons.
Calluna Vulgaris is the common Heather, so dear to the Scotchman. The
Wintergreens and the Andromedas, the Uva-ursi and the Pipsissewa, and
many more, well worthy of note, belong here ; — but we must hasten on.

Order 116. EpacridacejE. These are a peculiar tribe of plants, which
throughout the vast regions of Australasia and Polynesia, seems to fill the
place which is occupied by the Heaths and Huckleberries, in other parts of
the world.

Order 118. AauiFOLiACEJS. Let it suffice to name the Ilex, (Holly,)
and that plant called M at6, so extensively used in South America as a sub-
stitute for Tea.

Order 1 19. Eben ace jb. Trees distinguished by the hardness and black-
ness of their wood, as Ebony and Iron-wood. The Persimmon-tree of
America belongs to this order.

LADIES' BOTANY. 49

Order 120. Sapotacejs. The Sapodilla Plum, the Star-apple, the
Marmalade, and the Surinam Medlar, are dessert fruits in the tropical
regions where they grow. They are sweet, with a slight degree of acidity.
The Butter-trees of India and Africa, which yield an oil like butter, are of
this order.

Order 122. Plumb agina'ce^l The Statices furnish many plants of
great beauty. The homely but substantial virtues of Marsh Rosemary are
too well known to need our commendation.

Order 123. Primulace^. Examples : Primrose, Pimpernel, Cyclamen.
The poetry of the Primrose has been given elsewhere.

Order 126. OrobanchacejE. These strange herbs have nothing but
scales, where other plants have leaves. Being thus destitute of the means
of respiration, and of digesting food, they meanly attach themselves to
other plants, and live by draining their already elaborated juices. The
Orobanche (Broom-rape) and Epiphegus (Beech-drops) are conspicuous
among these parasites.

Order 127. Bignoniace^. These are trees or climbing plants, with
large and showy flowers. Witness the Catalpa and the Bignonia, (Trum-
pet-creeper.)

Order 129. Acanthaceje. An order of no particular importance ; it
contains, however, the Acanthus, whose beautiful leaves have so often been
delineated in bronze and marble.

Order 130. ScrophulariacejE. This is an extensive and important
order. Bitter juices generally characterize the plants, and these in some
become highly poisonous. The properties of Digitalis Purpurea (Foxglove)
are well known. Many species are beautiful, and are cultivated for orna-
ment. It may interest some to know the names of the different species of
this order, which are found in the northern United States. Premising that
several of these have numerous varieties, we subjoin the list : — Mullein,
Toadflax, Figwort, Collinsia, Snake-head, Pentstemon, Monkey-flower,
Capraria, Herpestis, Hedge Hyssop, Lindernia, Hemianthus, Mudwort,
Synthyris, Speedwell, Blue-hearts, Seymeria, Gerardia, False Foxglove,

Painted-cup, Chaff-seed, Eye-bright, Yellow-rattle, Lousewort, Cow- wheat

7

50 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Order 131. Verbenace^e. The Vervain, once supreme among the
sacred herbs, like many a hierarch we could name, has lost all its power.
The leaves of Aloysia Citriodora, a plant of our gardens, are very fragrant.
But the most distinguished member of this order, by far, is the Tectona
Grandis. This is the immense Teak-tree of the East Indian woods and
mountains. Its timber, full as it is of silex, endures like a rock. Ships
constructed of it seem almost inaccessible to decay.

Order 132. Labiate. A beneficent order, with which all are familiar.
Thyme, Rosemary, Lavender, Mint, and Sage, — the very names are re-
viving and consoling. The leaves of these plants contain small receptacles
of volatile oil, on which their stomachic virtues depend.

Order 133. Bob agin acejE. The Myosotis, so important in flower lan-
guage, and the Heliotropiums, whose flowers are so sweetly fragrant, are
of this family. Add also Borage, Hounds-tongue, and Comfrey, esteemed
for their demulcent qualities.

Order 140. Polemoniaceje. Polemonium, (Greek Valerian,) Phlox,
Gilia. Some of the plants of this order are among the most common orna-
ments of our gardens.

Order 143. CoNvoLvuLACEiE. These are twining or trailing herbs,
with large showy flowers. We need only name the Convolvulus, or Morn-
ing Glory. Strongly purgative qualities are found in the roots of many of
the Convolvuli. Jalap and Scammony are the best known. This, how-
ever, is not the case with the Batatas, or Sweet Potato, so abundantly
raised in the middle and southern United States. I ought, perhaps, to add,
that the Dodder, a poor parasite, belongs to the Convolvulaceae.

Order 145. Solanaceje. In this order we find, united with some of the
most poisonous substances known, other plants which are used for food.
It does not seem natural that Datura Stramonium, Hyoscyamus, Tobacco,
and Belladonna, should belong to the same family with the innocent and
wholesome Potato, Tomato, and Egg-plant. But the inconsistency is not
so great as at first appears. The leaves and berries of the Potato are nar-
cotic, and the tuber itself, if suffered to grow out of ground, becomes acrid
and poisonous. Of the poisonous plant, Tobacco, we shall say nothing.
Science, eloquence, reason, ridicule, and satire have all tried to banish it

LADIES' BOTANY. 51

from use — and tried in vain. The Thorn-apple, Henbane, and Atropa Bel-
ladonna, allure children by their berries, which but too often prove fatal to
them.

It is believed that the wild paroxysms which the priests and Pythonesses
of the ancient oracles, passed off upon the deluded applicant as the effects
of a divine inspiration, were actually produced by the seeds of a species of
Datura. Belladonna is supposed to have been the plant which proved so
fatal to the Roman soldiers, during their retreat before the Parthians. With
the juice of the same plant, mingled in the food with which they agreed to
supply the Danes, the Scots are said to have intoxicated their foes, and
then to have despatched them. Capsicum annuum, (Cayenne Pepper,) that
useful and lively stimulant, is a member of this family.

Order 146. Gentianace^. A bitter principle pervades this order, be-
coming, in some instances, medicinally useful. The Gentian of the shops
is the most important. Many of the plants in this order are distinguished
by the variety and beauty of their colors, and are found in the highest Al-
pine regions, fringing the very glaciers with their handsome flowers.*

Order 147. Apocyanacbjs. The Periwinkle and the Dogsbane are fa-
miliar examples. A poisonous principle called Strychnia, pervades the
plants of this order. The Woovari poison of Guiana is contained in the

* An American poet — a true priest of Nature— thus addresses one of these floweia;

TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN.

Thou waitest late and com'st alone,
When woods are bare and winds are flown,
And frosts and shortening days portend
The aged year is near his end.

Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye
Look through its fringes to the sky,
Blue— blue— as if that sky let fall
A flower from its cerulean wall.

I would that thus, when I shall see

The hour of death draw near to me,

Hope, blossoming within my heart,

May look to heaven as I depart

[Bryajtt.

52 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Strychnos Toxifera. Another Strychnos in Java furnishes a kind of
Upas. The properties of Nux Vomica are well known. Even the beauti-
ful Oleander, deemed by many so innocent, contains a virulent poison. Its
flowers, incautiously eaten, have caused death. The following statement is
Quoted by Lindley, from " Gard. Chronicle," 1844 : —

" In 1809, when the French troops were lying before Madrid, some of
the soldiers went a marauding, every one bringing back such provisions as
could be found. One of the soldiers formed the unfortunate idea of cutting
the branches of the Oleander for spits and skewers for the meat when
roasting. This tree, it may be observed, is very common in Spain, where
it attains considerable dimensions. The wood having been stripped of its
bark, and brought into contact with the meat, was productive of the most
direful consequences — for of twelve soldiers who ate of the roast, seven
died, and the other five were dangerously ill."

Ye lovers of flowers, beware of the Oleander ! We will add only that
several plants of this order yield Caoutchouc.

Order 148. Asclepiadacejb. The Milkweed, with its white juice and
cotton-like pods, is too well known to need description. The Butterfly-
weed is a plant esteemed for its medicinal powers. Acrid and bitter juices
mark the family.

Order 149. Jasminace^. Mostly natives of India, and distinguished
for the delicious fragrance of the oils yielded by their flowers.

Order 150. Oleaceje. An important order, for it contains the Olive,
whose oil subserves so many useful purposes. The different kinds of Ash
likewise are Oleacese. From some of these, the sweet substance called
Manna is obtained. The Chionanthus, or Fringe-tree, and the Lilac, are
among the ornaments.

LADIES' BOTANY. 53

CLASS III.

APETALOUS EXOGENS.

Order 152. Nepenthaceje. The Nepenthes is chiefly remarkable as
being one of the Pitcher- plants. " The petiole, soon after it arises from the
stem, spreads into a broad, leafy expansion, which seems to perform the
function of the true leaves : it then contracts, and forms a round, tendril-
like cord, of several inches in length ; and it then expands again, and is
hollowed in its interior, so as to form a very capacious and elegant recep-
tacle. The mouth of this is guarded by a separate little leafy cover, which
is connected with it by a distinct joint ; and this is regarded by botanists as
the true leaf."

Order 153. Chenopodiace<£. The Chenopodiums are generally weeds,
yet man has contrived to turn some of them to good account. From the
Salsolas and Salicornias he obtains an abundance of Soda. From Che-
nopodium Anthelmintic um he derives the Wormseed oil. Spinach he boils
for greens. But the Beet is by far the most important member of this
family. Within the last forty years, this plant has attained a high impor-
tance. In 1812 there was no sugar but that obtained from the cane, and
this, in consequence of the war with England, was worth at that time in
France, fourteen francs the kilogramme.* Various attempts were made to
obtain sugar from plants indigenous to France. The Parisians ridiculed
these attempts, and celebrated, in lampoons, the sugar and the workmen.
I well remember having seen, at that time, in the windows of Martinet, a
caricature, representing Napoleon and the king of England, each with a
crown on. The English monarch was hurling an enormous beet-root at
the emperor, and saying, at the same time, " Make your sugar !" But how
is it now ? The sugar of the beet, not less beautiful or valuable than that
of the cane, is obtained in such quantities as materially to affect the trade
with the colonies. The English, who once had their laugh over the matter,
might find it, in case of war, a serious affair.

* A little more than two pound* avoirdupois.

54 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Order 154. Amarantaceje. The emblematic Amaranth, with its dry,
unfading flowers, is the only plant that deserves mention here.

Order 155. Phytolaccacejb. The Poke (Phytolacca Decandra) is
well known in the United States, and is often used medicinally.

Order 156. Polygonaceje. Rhubarb and Sorrel, the stems and leaves
of which contain an agreeable acid, and Dock, are members of this family.
The purgative properties of the Rhubarb reside in the roots. Buckwheat, '
immense quantities of which are raised and consumed in some parts of the
United States, is the Polygonum Fragopyrum.

Order 157. Nyctaginacejb. The Four-o'clock (Mirabilis) is to be
found in every flower-garden.

Order 158. LauracejE. An aromatic order. Its plants seem to be per-
vaded with a stimulating and volatile oil. Cinnamon and Cassia are barks
of eastern trees. Camphor comes from the Camphora Officinarum, a tree
of China and Japan. All are acquainted with the aromatic properties of
the Sassafras. The true Laurel (Lauras Nobilis) belongs to the order.
The Persea Gratissima, a West Indian tree, bears a fruit which is much
esteemed under the name of the Avocado Pear.

Order 161. Thymeliace^:. A caustic race, many of which require to
be handled with great care. The Daphne Mezereum is much used in
medicine. In some parts of Africa and Asia, ropes and paper are manu-
factured from plants of this order. The beautiful Lace-bark of Jamaica is
obtained by macerating the bark of Lagetta Lintearia. The resemblance
is very strong. A celebrated woman was told that this tree could be nat-
uralized in Europe, much to the advantage of the ladies, who could then
get beautiful lace for almost nothing.

"Ah! sir," said the lady, "do you not know that this useless article
called lace, is prized by us women only because it is dear? Bring your
trees along, and nobody will care any thing about it"

Order 164. Santalace^e. From the Santalum, a tree of Polynesia, is
obtained the odoriferous Sandal-wood, which, in consequence of the super-
stition or the luxury of the Chinese, has become qn important article of
commerce.

LADIES' BOTANY. 55

Order 165. LoBANTHACEiE. Shrub-like plants, which live parasitically
on different trees. The Misletoe is a familiar example.

Order 168. Peoteace^b. The plants of this order exhibit great diver-
sity of appearance, and hence the fitness of its name. It contains several
evergreen shrubs, which are much valued by gardeners for the neatness of
their appearance, and the beauty and singularity of their flowers.

Order 169. Ulmace^. All know and admire the graceful and majestic
Elm. The Celtis or Nettle-tree belongs to the same order.

Order 171. Piperace^. The aromatic and stimulating properties of
this order are well represented by the Piper Nigrum, (common Pepper.)
This is an ardent and generous plant ; and yet, it is a feeble shrub, which
must be secured like a vine, and which needs aid, in order that it may
grow. It attaches itself to trees, runs along their branches, and suspends
its fruit there in small clusters. This shrub, so sombre in appearance, and '
so feeble, has become, under the care of man, a production of vast impor-
tance and of extensive commerce. For culinary purposes, it is an inval-
uable spice — and it is found on every table. It is an energetic stimulant —
far -superior to coffee in that particular; but it does not, like coffee, make
us dream.

Pepper is no new discovery, for Horace mentions this spice. It was
found, formerly, only in the East Indies. A century ago it was introduced
into the American colonies, together with the Nutmeg and the Clove. It is
a singular fact, that the individual who transferred these plants from Asia
to America, bore the name of Poyvre — a circumstance which has induced
the belief among some, that he gave name to the article.*

Our ingratitude towards those good men who have done their country
service, is truly shameful. While we are well acquainted with the lives of
Alexander and of Nero — while such persons as Cartouche and Mandrin
have found biographers — the name of Poyvre has scarcely had a place in
the long and fastidious catalogues of our biographical dictionaries. And
yet we may safely say, that the citizen cannot be named whose life was
better spent, or who showed a more devoted and disinterested attachment
to his country. His life was a long drama, not without scenes of fearful
interest

* Poftvre is the French name of Pepper.

56 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

M. Poyvre was born at Lyons in the year 1749. Having completed, at
the age of twenty, a long and profitable course of study, he sailed to
China, and from thence he went to Cochin China. His first object, on ar-
riving in that country, was to make himself master of its language. Such
were the ability and zeal which he brought to this study, that he very soon
acquired it. He then engaged in a series of observations, which he re-
corded for the benefit of his countrymen. Having completed these, he
became impatient to make them known at home, and accordingly embarked
on his return. The ship which conveyed him was still in the Indian seas,
near the strait of Banca, when it was attacked by a piratical British vessel
of superior force. The cannonade begun, and the French captain gave
arms to all his passengers. Poyvre refused those which were offered him.

" You are a coward, then !" said the enraged captain.

" I hope to prove the contrary," calmly replied the young man.

Laying aside his coat and hat, and taking with him a portable medicine-
chest, which made a part of his baggage, he took his station on deck.
Musket-bullets and cannon-balls were prostrating every one around him,
but his composure was unshaken. He went forward under the hottest fire
to pick up the wounded, and dressed their wounds while exposed to a
shower of grape. It is not long before he is wounded himself — the blood
flowing from different parts of his body.

At this moment the captain runs up to him. " Your pardon," said he,
grasping his hand. " You are the bravest man in the ship. We are about
to board the enemy — I entreat you to go below."

As his only reply, Poyvre rushed towards a sailor who had just fallen —
while at the same moment a ball carried away his arm. An hour after-
wards, he was a prisoner.

He was taken at first to Batavia, and then to Pondicherry. Being liber-
ated, he sailed again for home, and after a prosperous voyage, had come
within sight of his native shores, when he fell a second time into English
hands. It was long before he recovered his freedom.

Through all these vicissitudes by land and by sea — amid the greatest
destitution, and perils so severe, his zeal and patriotism had allowed no
occasion to pass, without adding something to the stores of his knowledge,
especially in the departments of natural history and colonial commerce.
On his return home, he hastened to communicate to government two
schemes which had occurred to him. The first, was the opening of a
direct trade between France and Cochin China. The second, was the
transplanting to the Isles of France and of Bourbon, those spices which

LADIES' BOTANY. 57

had previously been confined to the Moluccas. His plans were adopted,
and the execution of them was consigned to Poyvre.

The first-named project was perfectly successful. The second was in
progress, — the Nutmeg, the Clove, and the Pepper were already flourishing
in the Isle of France, when this indefatigable man was for the third time
made prisoner by the English, who retained him until the peace of 1761.

On his return to Paris, Poyvre was made Intendant of the Colonies, and
received from the king the riband of St. Michael, with letters of nobility.
From 1767 to 1773 he administered affairs in the islands of France and of
Bourbon, and restored them to their former prosperity. Among those who
have enjoyed power, few have left a name better entitled to veneration.
His public virtues were the natural result of his private excellencies. To
the most complete disinterestedness, he added scrupulous justice, a firmness
not to be shaken, and perseverance that was never weary. He established
public works, and institutions for the promotion of charity and industry.
He improved the finances, fitted out maritime expeditions, and provided
for the administration of impartial justice. Not only was science under
obligations to him for his efforts to promote it, but humanity likewise, for
his endeavors to ameliorate the condition of the slaves.

The introduction from India of its most valuable staples into the Isles of
France and Bourbon, was not the least of the benefits which those islands
owed to him. From Bourbon and from Guiana, France still receives those
spicy fruits, which are the trophies of his peaceful victories, and for which
we should bless his memory.

In 1773 this illustrious man returned to France, and retired to a small
villa on the bank of the Saone, where he died in the year 1786, hardly re-
membered by the generation which he had served so faithfully.

How many pretended philosophers have acquired brilliant reputations
and colossal fortunes, with scarce a tithe of the knowledge and the genius
of Poyvre ! The man of true merit is content to respect himself. Con-
science is his guide, and it is all he needs.

We return from our digression, to the Piperaceae. The Betel-nut, with
which the Malays intoxicate themselves, is the product of the Piper Betel.

Order 173. Ceratofhyllaoba. Order 174. Callitricraobjb. Order
175. PoDOSTEMACE.fi. Of these three orders, it is sufficient to state here
that they are all aquatic plants, none of which demand special notice.

Order 176. Euphorbiace*. A very large and formidable family, yet

8

58 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Hot without some amiable members. Euphorbia (Spurge) is its principal
representative for northern climes. In the regions of tropical America
these plants are very numerous, and some of them extremely venomous.
In the juices of some, the savage tribes of Brazil and Ethiopia dip the
points of their arrows. The celebrated Manchineel-tree is said to be so
poisonous, that persons have died from merely sleeping beneath its shade.
A single drop of its white juice falling on the skin, burns like fire, and
creates an ulcer very difficult to heal. This hideous tree bears a beautiful
fruit, somewhat resembling an apple. Fortunately, the first touch of the
lips generally furnishes a sufficient warning to those whom its beauty has
tempted to try it. Croton Tiglium is the source of that powerful substance
called Croton oil. The common Box is well known to possess bitter and
acrid properties. Yet, from the seeds of Ricinus Communis is obtained
that valuable article, Castor oil. The aromatic Cascarilla bark is yielded
by plants of this order. The rhizoma, or underground stem of the Cassava
is filled with starch. The poisonous juice which accompanies it is removed
by washing and baking. The starch is then granulated, and forms the
Tapioca of commerce. The dye called Turnsole is obtained from Crozo-
phora. A large proportion of the Caoutchouc obtained from South
America, is derived from trees belonging to this order — particularly the
Hevea Guianensis and the Siphonia Elastica.

Order 179. Juglandace^e. Valuable trees. The strong and elastic
properties of Hickory have long been turned to account. The Black
Walnut, a dark-brown wood, admitting of high polish, has come into gen-
eral use for cabinet furniture, for finishing the interior of churches, &c.
Add to these the common Walnut, the Butternut, and the Peccan.

Order 180. Cupuliferjb. An illustrious order among the trees, for it
includes the Oak, " the brave old oak." Of all the trees of the park or
forest, the Oak has ever been our favorite. We admire it not merely for
its majestic size and form, its wide-spread branches, its foliage of deep and
glossy green, and its invincible strength, but for its thousand associations of
utility and dignity. There are many varieties of this tree. The bark
contains tannin and gallic acid, and is consequently an important article
with tanners and dyers. Galls are swellings produced by insects, which
deposite their eggs in the leaf-stalks of the oak. Cork is the outer bark of
Quercus Suber. The Live-oak of the southern United States, as a mate-
rial for ship-building, is unequalled by any other tree, unless it be the Teak.

LADIES' BOTANY. 59

But we must not forget the Beech, with its smooth bark and its symmetric
crown, all consecrated to poetry and love. Here, too, come the Hazel-nut
and the Chesnut, which some of our readers who like nuts, will regard as
far more important than the Beech and the Oak.

Order 181. Mtricaceje. The aromatic sweet Gale and sweet Fern,
and Myrica Cerifera, (Candleberry,) from which a vegetable wax is ob-
tained, are the most familiar examples of this order.

Order 188. Brtulace^. These are the Alders and the Birches. The
bark of some Birches contains an astringent and aromatic principle. The
wood of the Black Birch is hard and valuable. With birch-bark the North
American Indians cover their wigwams. Of birch-bark they construct
those light canoes which carry them over the water, and which they them-
selves carry over the land. The Birch is among the hardiest of trees.
Far up the snow-crowned mountain, and deep in arctic and antarctic
climes, it is found braving the fierce blasts of winter, and hanging out its
fragrant tassels with the first breath of spring. Beautiful ornaments of the
vernal landscape ! To how many bosoms have those tender leaves and
odorous blossoms sent a thrill of the purest delight !

Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,

O'erhung with wildwoods, thick'ning green ;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar,

Twined amorous round the raptured scene.

[BofcNfc

Order 184. Saucacea. The Willow and the Poplar — trees of com-
paratively small value, yet so easily propagated, that they are among the
most common. Some kinds of Willow are used for wickerwork. The
Weeping-willow, with its long, dependent twigs, forms, as it overhangs
some pleasant watercourse, one of the most beautiful features of a land-
scape.

Order 186. Balsamifluj3. The fragrant balsam called Storax, is de-
rived from the Liquidambar, or Sweet Gum.

Order 187. PlatanacejE. Almost the only tree of this order is the
well-known Platanus, (Plane-tree or Button wood.) This tree is indigenous
in the United States, and upon the western waters grows to an immense

60 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

size. In the northern and middle states it has been extensively planted ai
an ornamental tree.

Order 188. UrticacejB. A strange combination! Here are Bread-
fruit and Bohon Upas side by side, and the Fig-tree is seen walking hand-
in-hand with the Nettle. Here are the Mulberry and the Osage Orange,
the Hemp and the Hop. From the Ficus Indica (the renowned and oft-
depicted Banyan-tree) exudes the valuable resin known by the name of
Gum Lac. Caoutchouc is derived from some of the trees of this order.
The Cow-tree of South America is remarkable for yielding a great abun-
dance of nutritious milk. On the whole, this is a very important family,
and contributes largely to the comforts and the luxuries of man.

CLASS IV.

GYMNOSPERMS.

Order 189. Conifers. A well-known and valuable class. They are
those hardy and ever- verdant trees, which spread their protecting screens
over the cold northern climes, and which make even the sternest winter.
landscape smile. Nor is it in the season of frost alone that the Pine and
the Hemlock delight the eye and cheer the heart. In calm summer hours,
when the zephyrs breathe gently, go sit beneath the Pine and listen
to its voice. The poets all, from Theocritus down to Coleridge, have
praised its melodies ;

" And piae-grovem, with their soft and tool-like soond."

These trees furnish not only valuable timber, but other products high);
useful in the arts — such as resin, pitch, tar, turpentine, and balsam. To the
trees already named, we add the Fir, the Cypress, the Larch, the Juniper,
and the Yew.

Order 191. CvcADACEiE. Inhabitants of the equatorial regions. The
Zamia or Coontie is found in Florida.

LADIES' BOTANY. 01

CLASS V.

ENDOGENS.

i

Order 192. Akacea:. Wake-Robin, Calls, Sweet Flag, and Skunk-
\ cabbage ! All acrid except the Sweet Flag, which is agreeably aromatic.

i The Skunk-cabbage, notwithstanding its offensive name and odor, is useful

i as an anti-spasmodic.

Order 193. Palmacejb. Nearly all the Palms are large and noble trees.

p The stem is without branches, and of equal thickness through its whole

extent, — its lofty column being terminated by an evergreen crown of leaves,
which are either fan-shaped or pinnate. The flower is seen among the
leaves, issuing from that peculiar form of envelope which is called a spathe.
Only one species of Palm — the Date-tree — is found in Europe, and one only
in the United States, namely, the Chameerops Palmetto. It is within the
tropics that these plants abound, and are not less useful than they are orna-
mental. The Wax Palm of the Cordilleras attains sometimes a height of

- two hundred feet, yielding besides a wax-like substance, from which

candles are made. The nutritive article called Sago is derived from the
pith of different Palms. The unexpanded leaves are often eaten, and form
a delicious article of food, under the name of Palm-cabbage. The sap of
the Palms abounds, generally, with saccharine matter, and is fermented into
a sort of wine, or distilled into Arrack. To the inhabitants of Syria, of
Northern Africa, and other countries, the Date-tree presents its long

* bunches of savory fruit. So indispensable does this food seem to some of

the Arab tribes, that they can form no conception of a habitable country
destitute of dates. The Cocoa-tree is another memorable example. First
we have the fruit, with its. agreeable meat and wholesome beverage. Then
there is the delicious terminal bud. The wood is used in building huts ;
the leaves for covering them — also for making hats, mats, baskets, fences,
— and as a substitute for paper. The foot-stalk and mid-rib make good
oars. The rind of the fruit is converted into dippers, and its fibrous outer
covering makes excellent ropes.

Finally, so great is the beauty of this plant, and so lively the sense of
gratitude which its usefulness has enkindled in the breast of man, that he
has made the Palm the emblem of victory, and the symbol of reward.

Order 194. Lemnaceje. The Lemnaceee, of which the Duckweed or

62 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Water Flax-seed is a good example, are floating plants. Their roots shoot
from a flat frond, and hang loose in the water, while the flowers spring out
from the edge of the frond.

Order 195. PaniTanacejs. In the Mascaren islands, and especially in
the Isle, of France, the Screw-pines abound. To give these trees not only
additional nutriment, but increased support against the violence of equinoc-
tial gales, they possess the property of sending forth from their trunks,
strong aerial roots. These descend to the ground, having their extremities
curiously protected by a sort of cup-like coating, which preserves them
uninjured until they reach the earth.

Order 198. Alibmace^e. The Water Plantain (Alisma) and the Arrow-
head, (Sagittaria Sagittifolia,) are examples of this aquatic tribe.

Order 200. Hvdrocharidacea. The Vallisneria belongs to this order.
This singular plant is very common in the river Rhone. It is stemless,
with long, grass-like leaves, growing entirely under water. As the
staminate cluster is unable to rise, in consequence of the shortness of its
scape, the flower-buds break away of their own accord, and floating on the '

surface, shed their pollen around the fertile flowers, which uncoil and as- j

cend at the same time. After this, the fertile scapes again coiling up, the
ovary is once more drawn beneath the water, where it ripens. The sin-
gular habits of this plant inspired the following verses of a botanical
poet:—

" For six revolving moons, below
The yesty Rhone's impetuous flow,
A plant lies hid from mortal eyes,
Till passion bids it woke and rise.
Uncoiling then its pliant stem,
It floats — a vegetable gem ;
Confined no more to watery cave,
She blooms, the Naiad of the wave.
Now in those deep, cerulean cells,
Her lover's faithful bosom swells ;
With one strong bound, he breaks his chain,
Too short, too feeble to restrain ;
Springs to his long-betrothed bride,
And swims, exulting, at her side.
Such was the scene in times of old,
The fair, Saturnian age of gold,
When Hymen led his bridal train
Of nymphs and sea-gods o'er the main."

LADIES' BOTANY. 63

Order 201. Orchid acejE. The mythology, so to speak, of the Orchis
tribe, has been given elsewhere. The flowers of this order have a very
peculiar structure — and hence the varied and singular forms which they
present. Sometimes we have a helmet with the vizor up— sometimes a
reptile or an insect. There is great beauty as well as immense variety
among the flowers of this order — but it lays no special claim to praise on
the score of utility. We must except, however, the Vanilla, whose fra-
grant qualities have been turned to good account.

Order 202. Marantaceas. Arrow-root is obtained from the Rhizome of
some of these plants.

Order 203. Zinziberacea. Tropical plants, generally showy and
handsome. Many of them have aromatic and stimulating roots, as Ginger.
Similar properties are found sometimes in their seeds, as in the Cardamoms.
Turmeric is a product of this order.

Order 204. Musace^e. Plants of great importance in the torrid zone.
Here we find the Plantains and Bananas, so variously useful. The fruit is
nutritious and immensely abundant. The gigantic leaves are employed in
thatching the cottages of the natives, in weaving baskets, and finally, in the
preparation of some of the finest of the India muslins. To the inhabitants
of the South Sea Islands, the Banana is of inestimable value. To see this
handsome and vigorous plant, with a stem often three feet in circumfer-
ence, and fifteen feet high, one would readily suppose it to be a tree of
great firmness and long duration. It is, notwithstanding, an herbaceous
plant, which in countries near the equator, never survives a full year. In
temperate climes, where, to make it grow and bear fruit, art must come to
the aid of nature, its life is often extended through many years. Yet even
there it must yield to its destiny, which is, to perish as soon as it has borne
its fruit.

Not long since, when the rage of speculation was at its height, the spec-
ulators took hold of the Banana. They pretended that they could make
paper from the stem of this plant. A company was organized with a cap-
ital of several millions. Subscribers were found — when can they not be
found ? Paper was actually made of the Banana. But it was poor stuff,
and cost four times as much as that which is in common use. The share-
holders had, however, the privilege of looking at a couple of miserable,

64 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

stunted Bananas, kept at the office of the agents, No. 171 Rue Morrtmartre,
this gratification cost them only a few hundred thousand francs.

Order 205. Amartllidacbjb. Mostly bulbous plants, with showy
flowers, borne upon scapes. Although the monocotyledonous orders are
generally free from poisonous properties, this praise cannot be given to the
one under consideration. Dangerous qualities belong to the bulbs of many
species. From time immemorial, the Narcissus has been a favorite flower.
It is varied and brilliant in colors, and gives out a delightful fragrance.
Amaryllis, Crinum, Pancratium, and Haemanthus all deserve more than a
bare enumeration. To this order belongs the Agave Americana, a plant
far more important than any mere ornament of the parterre. This plant-
called also the American Aloe, and sometimes the century plant, from a
fiction of the gardeners — not only grows in vast quantities in equinoctial
America, but is applied to many useful purposes. With its hard and thorny
leaves it forms admirable hedges, — from its tough fibre a most valuable
cordage is made, — and its root contains medicinal properties. From the
fibres of the leaves the Mexicans made their paper, and their expressed
juices were used as a substitute for soap. But its most important product
is the sap, which exudes from the stem or scape, occasioned by the cutting
out of the inner leaves. This liquid readily ferments, and forms the fa-
vorite drink called pulque. It is a beverage somewhat resembling cider,
but has the misfortune to smell very badly — its odor resembling that of
putrid meat. When the aversion which this inspires has been overcome,
nothing can be more delightful than pulque. Do you question the practi-
cability of overcoming it ? Just look round, and see how many of your
friends have learned to love the once horrid taste of the tobacco plant!
A sort of brandy, called aguardiente — very intoxicating — is derived from
the pulque.

In its native clime, this plant arrives at maturity and sends forth its
flowers, in the space of a few years. If transplanted to colder regions,
a longer period must elapse. When at length its mighty spike, twenty
or thirty feet high, is covered with flowers, it is an object truly mag-
nificent.

Order 208. Iridacejs. With the exception of the violet-scented Orris-
root, the produce of Iris Florentina, and of Saffron, which is the dried
stigmas of Crocus Sativus, the plants of this order have little to commend
them but their beauty. Those who are familiar with the Iris and the

LADIES' BOTANY. 65

Crocus, know how fugitive this quality is in them— but when and where
is beauty not fugitive ?

Order 209. Bromeuace*. Herbaceous plants, remarkable for the
hardness and dryness of their foliage. They abound in tropical countries.
Springing often from the branches of trees, they coil about them with their
juicy roots, and live partly on decayed vegetable matter — partly, and still
more, on what they absorb from the atmosphere. Many of them have
handsome flowers, and some are sweet-scented likewise. In South Amer-
ica, these plants are suspended in the houses, or hung round upon the bal-
ustrades of balconies, requiring no .sustenance but the air, which they fill
with their fragrance. The Ananassa (Pineapple) is the most valued species,
and needs no description. The Tillandsia, or Black Moss, hangs in long
beards from the trunks and branches of trees, in the warm, moist regions of
America, and is used for certain purposes.

Order 210. Dioscoreace^e. Yams, so much used for food in inter-
tropical countries, are the fleshy, farinaceous tubers of Dioscorea.

Order 213. Smilacea:. The roots of various species of Smilax con-
stitute the Sarsaparilla of commerce, — a drug which seems to have risen
into high repute.

Order 214. Liliaceas. We come now to the Lily tribe, one of the
most numerous and most brilliant in the whole vegetable kingdom, — that
glorious family, as the renowned botanist, Ventenat, used to call it. He
regarded the Lily as the chief pride of Flora's empire ; and such, too, was
its rank in mytbologic fiction — an appreciation not the less just because it
is ancient. No other family, indeed, equals that of the Lilies in richness of ST

hues, elegance of form, and sweetness of perfume. Only to mention a few
of the plants that compose it, is enough to awaken some of the most pleas-
ing and most poetical thoughts ever inspired by the beauties of nature. At
the head of this splendid family we may fairly place the White Lily.
Next may stand the Turban Lily, whose flowers of richest scarlet or beau-
tiful yellow, have the shape of a turban. Then we have the Martagon
Lily — the Chalcedon Lily, a splendid purple— and the Superb Lily,
(Fig. 37,) with its magnificent girandole, supported by a stem nearly five
feet high.

The Tulip follows, more humble in its aspect, but not less rich in colors.

9

66 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Its inexhaustible variety of hues renders it, beyond contradiction, one of
the finest ornaments of the garden. From the purest white to the most
sombre brown — from the delicate rose-tint to that of the violet— from
golden yellow to the brightest red — there is not a shade which it does not
wear. Indeed, when one for the first time surveys a border of well-select-
ed Tulips, he is half inclined to pardon the follies which were enacted in
regard to this plant a century ago— when a single Tulip-bulb was pur-
chased at a price of twenty thousand francs. The extravagant amateurs,
who made such enormous sacrifices for the gratification of their taste, were
called Tulip-mad. Such characters are not wholly unknown in our days.
To Alphonse Karr we are indebted for the following pleasant story : —

THE TRUE HISTORY OF A TULIP.

A Tulip-amateur made an exhibition of his flowers. He went through
all the manoeuvres usual on such occasions — among others, that of the rod.
This consists in pressing the end of a stick against the stem of the Tulip,
and pretending to push as hard as possible, without being able to make it
bend ; saying, at the same time : " Gentlemen, please notice the firmness of
this plant ; it is as stiff as an iron bar."

He had shown us Gluck, that admirable plant — a white ground, streaked
with violet; and Joseph Deschiens, a real diamond, half white, half violet;
and Vandael, that gem of its kind, always white and violet ; and Czarto*
riski, a flower of the fifth rank, white and rose-tinted, and distinguished by
the extreme whiteness of the claws ; and Napoleon the First, and the In-
comparable Purple, and sixteen hundred others, — when he came to a Tulip
before which he suddenly stopped short. As, without saying a word, and
with a most expressive smile, he pointed towards it, one of the company
inquired whether this Tulip had not a name as well as the rest.

The owner of the Tulips put his finger to his lips, as though he had been
Harpocrates, the god of silence. At length he begins : " Only mark, what
magnificence of color — what beauty of shape— what claws — what firmness
— what neatness of form — what delicacy in the stripes ; how handsomely
it is scolloped — how well it is proportioned ! It is indeed a Tulip without
a fault."

" And you call it ?"

LADIES' BOTANY. 67

" Tut ! This Tulip is alone worth more than all the rest of my collec-
tion. Gentlemen, there are but two such Tulips in the world."

" And its name ?"

" Tut ! Its name — I could not speak it without forfeiting my honor. I
should be most proud, most happy to utter its name — to pronounce it so
that everybody should hear me — to write it in golden letters under its
splendid corolla : it is a name well known and respected"

" Your pardon, sir ; I would not press the point. It probably has some
connection with politics. It is the name, perhaps, of some distinguished
person, who has been proscribed. I prefer not to commit myself. Besides,
our opinions might not be found to harmonize"—— .

" Nothing of the kind, sir. I assure you that this secret has no connec-
tion with politics. I have sworn, upon my honor, that I will never show
this plant under its true name. It is here, under an incognito — an incog-
nito of the strictest kind. I have already, perhaps, said more than I ought.
Among people in general — those for whom I do not feel the esteem that
you have inspired me with — I should not go so far. I should not point this
out as the Tulip — the very queen of my collection. I should pass it with
seeming indifference. You comprehend me. At present, I designate it by
the name of Rebecca. But this is not its true name."

The amateurs took their leave, and so did I. The next day I called
again, and said to the exhibiter : " Come-— tell me, at length, what all this
dreadful mystery means."

" You shall judge for yourself. This Tulip, which we will still call Re-
becca, was in the possession of a person who had paid for it a very high
price. This purchaser, knowing that there was but one more like it in
Holland, went and bought that, and then crushed it under his feet — so that
his own should be indeed unique. Each year it excited the envy of the
numerous amateurs who came to see his collection. Each year he took
care to destroy the offsets which formed around the bulb, and from which
it might have been reproduced. As for me, I should be ashamed to tell
you what sums I offered for one of those bulbs, which this man used an-
nually to bray in his mortar. I would not have hesitated to pledge my
estate, or even to endanger the inheritance of my children.

" I no longer valued my own collection. All my beautiful Tulips failed
to comfort me, because I had not this one, which I may not name. It was
to no purpose that my friend — if, indeed, he deserves to be called a friend,
who could, without pity or remorse, see me so ipiserable— in vain that he
said to me : * Come and see it as often as you please/ I did go there. I

68 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

sat before it whole hours. Good care was taken never to leave me alone
with it. He supposed, no doubt, that the temptation would be too strong.
In fact, I think I might have stolen it. Or, perhaps, I should have poured
upon it some substance that would have caused its destruction. Then, at
least, it would no longer have existed — nor should I have felt any remorse.
' " When Gyges killed Candaules, in order to possess his wife, everybody
blamed Candaules, who had given Gyges a sight of her as she was coming
out of the bath. It is just so with the showing of a Tulip. I was in a
condition so near to despair, that one whole year I neglected to plant my
beloved Tulips. My gardener took pity on them, and perhaps on me, and
planted them — the clown ! — at hap-hazard, in mere vulgar mould. I must,
however, forgive him this, for he saved their lives."

" Well— how did you obtain the Tulip at last ?"

" Listen ! I did not imitate Gyges exactly, although my friend showed
himself as inconsiderate as Candaules. Still I committed a crime. I con-
trived to steal one of the offsets. Candaules has a nephew. This nephew
is entirely dependant on his uncle, who is very rich. He assists him in
planting and transplanting his Tulips, and affects, poor fellow ! an admira-
tion which he does not feel. But for this, his uncle would not endure him
for a moment. The uncle is rich ; but he does not consider that young
people require considerable money. The nephew had incurred a debt
which troubled him very much. His creditor threatened to make a de-
mand on the uncle. In this emergency he came to me, and begged me to
relieve him from his embarrassment. Sir, I was cruel. I refused to do
any thing. I even represented to him, in exaggerated terms, the anger
which his uncle would feel, when he should be apprized of this folly. I
almost drove him to despair — and then said to him : ' Nevertheless, if you
wish it, I will give you the money you ask for.'

" f Oh V cried he, ' you will save my life/

" ' Yes — but it is on one condition/

" ' A thousand — if you please/

" ' No— only one. You shall give me an offset from that9 — the Tulip in
question.

" But he recoiled with horror from this proposal. .

" ' My uncle will banish me ; he will disinherit me/ said he.

" ' Nay — he will never know it. On the other hand, he will certainly
know that you have incurred debts/

" • Ah ! if he should never hear of it I'

." 4 Certainly he will not, unless you inform

LADIES' BOTANY. 69

" To conclude : I so urged and frightened the poor young man, that at
last he promised to give me a bulb, when the Tulips should be transplanted.
But he made me swear upon my honor, that I would call it by some other
name, and never give its true designation to any one, until after the death
of his uncle-

" In return for this promise, I gave him the money which he wanted.
Our oaths have been faithfully kept. I received the Tulip, and I have
never spoken its name. The first time it flowered here — that is, in my
grounds — the uncle came to look at my Tulips. This is an attention com-
mon among us amateurs. He noticed this one, and turned pale. ' What
do you call this ?' said he, with a tremulous voice.

" Ah ! sir, I might then have paid him back all which he had made me
suffer. I might have uttered that name— a name which you do not know.
But I remembered my promise— my word of honor. The nephew, too,
was there, regarding me with looks full of apprehension. So I said, * Re*
becca.'

" He thought he perceived some resemblance ; and this idea took posses*
sion of him. He praised highly the other plants in my collection, but said
nothing of that, which is the pearl, the diamond of the whole. The next
day he came, and the day after, and as long as the Tulips remained in
flower. He at length succeeded in deceiving himself. He fancied that he

had detected some imaginary differences between Rebecca and — the

other. At last he said : * It is somewhat like,' &c.

"Sir, I have now the Tulip which I so long desired. Yet I am not
happy. What does its possession avail me, so long as I cannot speak its
name?

" Certain amateurs have thought they recognised it. But I am compelled
to deny it ; and I have not yet met with one so confident that he was right,
as to reply, ' You lie.' I endure constantly the most painful torture. When
I am alone, I regale myself. I call the Tulip by its own name, and I add
the most tender and most exalted epithets. A few days since, I had a
transient pleasure. I pronounced, aloud, to a man, this mysterious name.
Still, I did not violate my oath : the man was as deaf as a haddock.

" There was some comfort in this — and yet not much. Listen, my friend,
and take pity on me, for my oath is an oppressive burden. Swear to me,
upon your honor, that you will never repeat what I am about to tell you.
I will, in that case, give you its real name — the real name of Rebecca, the
queen in disguise, who passes for a grisette. You will not, like me, have to
struggle with temptation ; you will find no difficulty in keeping the oath*

70 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Ah! it is dreadful! How I wish that this man — this Candaules— were
dead, that I might tell everybody what I have. Now, then, take the oath.'1

At last, in pity for the man, I gave my solemn promise never to reveal
the name of this famous Tulip.

With a look of ineffable pride, he touched the plant with his rod, and
said to me : " This is the"

But I, too, am under the obligations of an oath, and must not speak the
name which it would give me pleasure to pronounce.

Is this all fiction, think you ?

Besides the Lily and the Tulip, which represent one division of this
family, we have, in a second, the Tuberose ; in a third, the Aloe and the
Yucca ; and in a fourth, the Hyacinth, the Asphodel, the Onion and Aspar-
agus. Aloes and Squills, so much valued in medicine, are the products of
plants belonging to this order. The Phormium Tenax, or New Zealand
Flax, has a fibre not inferior in toughness to hemp itself; and the Sanse-
vieras of Africa and India, furnish a still stronger material, sometimes
called Bowstring Hemp. The tonic resin known by the name of Dragon's-
blood, comes from a tree, the Dracaena Draco. Ruscus, or the Butchers'
Broom, is one of the Liliacese. The picturesque Crown Imperial, the
beautiful Hemerocallis, and the lovely, modest Lily of the Valley, deserve
more than a passing notice.

* Order 216. MelanthacejE. Herbs, with bulbs, corms, or fibrous roots.
Colchicum (Meadow Saffron) is a plant well known, as well for its pecu-
liarity of flowering in autumn, when it has no leaves, as for its active medi-
cinal properties. The alkaline principle to which it owes its virtue, is called
Veratria. Helonias and Veratrum are of this order ; and the Sebadilla
Seeds of commerce are from the Asagrsea, a mountain plant of Mexico.

Order 217. Juncaceje. The Rush (Juncus) will suggest many asso-
ciations and reflections, but requires no particular description.

Order 225. Cyperaceje. Plants which, like grasses, have culms or
jointed stems. To this order belong the Sedges, so various and so numer-
ous in northern climes. They are " found in marshes, ditches, and running
streams ; in meadows and on heaths ; in groves and forests ; on the blow-
ing sands of the seashore, on the tops of mountains, from the arctic to the
antarctic circle, wherever Phsenogamous vegetation can exist."

LADIES' BOTANY. 71

The Papyrus of Egypt, once so famous for its use in the manufacture of
paper, is one of the Cyperaceae. The interior of the stalk was cut into
thin slices, in the direction of its length. These were laid out flat, and
upon them were placed, at right angles, another layer. The surfaces in
contact were cemented together, and the whole was then pressed and pol-
ished. Thus was formed the coarse writing material, numerous specimens
of which have, notwithstanding their slight and frail texture, come down to
us through so many centuries— presenting to us, at the present day, the
very autographs of the old Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans. The India
matting, so much used on floors, is formed from another species of the
Papyrus.

Order 226. GraminejE. An unerring and beneficent Providence has
made the most useful of the metals the most abundant also. Like iron in
the mineral kingdom, the family of grasses stands conspicuous among
plants, as well for its utility as for its universal diffusion. This order com-
prehends not only those plants commonly known as grasses — which, while
they clothe the earth in green, furnish the principal nutriment of the domes-
tic animals — but also all those plants called cereal, upon which man himself
is so largely dependent. Rice, Maize, Millet, the Oat, Rye, Barley,
Wheat, — we need but name them to justify all that has been said, and
even more. Some plants of this order abound in sugar, and especially is
this the case with Saccharum Officinarum, or the Sugar-cane. Of all the
grains, Rice is supposed to support the largest number of people. This
plant requires to be submerged during a portion of its growth, — and its
cultivation is easy in those countries where large rivers are subject to an-
nual inundations. Throughout the warm regions of Southeastern Asia,
this grain forms the chief food of the inhabitants. In Europe, Wheat has,
from time immemorial, furnished the favorite material for bread. In Amer-
ica, Maize divides the empire with Wheat, and is raised in far greater
quantities. The Cane, originally from the East, has become naturalized in
America, which now furnishes the chief supply of Sugar for the civilized
world.

Order 229. Rafflesiacea. These are smgular parasites of the Eastern
world. They are found growing on the branches of certain trees, — the
entire plant being nothing but a flower. Of the immense size of one spe-
cies— Rafflesia Arnoldi — notice has already bten taken.

72 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

CLASS VI.

FLOWERLESS PLANTS.

The seeds of the Flowerless Plants differ materially from those of the
orders which have been described. In fact, they are small masses of cells,
without nucleus, integument, or embryo. To distinguish them from troe
seeds, they are called Spores. The stems of Cryptogamous Plants grow
only from the apex, and possess no arrangement by which they can add to
their diameter.

Order 230. EauisETACE^E. These are the Horse-tails and Scouring-
rushes — plants found in rivers and ditches almost everywhere. The cuticle
of these plants contains a large proportion of silex ; hence their value in
scouring and polishing.

Order 231. Filiceb. In northern regions, Ferns and Brakes are fa-
miliar objects. Within the tropics, Ferns often rise to the dignity of trees,
and are found forty feet in height. The arborescent Ferns, like all the
rest of the order, increase only at the point. In most of these plants, the
stem is a mere rhizoma, creeping upon or under the ground. From these
rise the fronds, as their foliage is called, at first in spiral coils. Their fruc-
tification is deserving of attention, being borne on the lower surface of the
fronds, in dots or lines of granules. These granules, when magnified, are
found to be thecce, or little cases full of spores. These cases, when the
spores are ripe, open of their own accord, by fissures vertical or trans-
verse, and discharge the minute bodies which are destined to reproduce the
plant. It is a fact, not without its interest, that Ferns appear to have been
among the very oldest members of the vegetable creation. Evidence of
their existence in vast abundance, is found among the coal formations in
every part of the world.

Order 235. Musci. Mosses are those delightful little miniature trees,
which we are never weary of admiring. The carpets which they form
under the forest-shade, vie in splendor and softness with the most beautiful
velvets. They are generally long-lived, and possess the singular property
of reviving to vitality and verdure by the simple restoration of moisture,
even after they have been kept in a dry state for many years. Mosses and

LADIES' BOTANY. 73

Lichens are often confounded. Their colors are, in general, a sufficient
distinction ; the Mosses being green, and the Lichens gray. The fructifi-
cation of the Mosses is beautiful and peculiar, being inclosed in a little urn,
furnished with a lid, and surmounting a long foot-stalk, which is a conspicu-
ous feature in the full-grown plant. The structure of this little urn, with
its calyptra, (hood,) its operculum, (lid,) its peristome, (rows of teeth around
the opening,) its columella and annulus, is an object which, minute as it is,
has often commanded admiration. The following passage from the travels
of the renowned Mungo Park, has been frequently quoted, but can never
cease to be delightfully instructive. While journeying in the interior of
Africa, he had fallen among banditti, who robbed him of every tiling that he
possessed.

" In this forlorn and almost helpless condition," he says, " when the rob-
bers had left me, I sat for some time looking around me with amazement
and terror. Whichever way I turned, nothing appeared but danger and
difficulty. I found myself in the midst of a vast wilderness, in the depth
of the rainy season, naked and alone, — surrounded by savage animals, and
by men still more savage. I was five hundred miles from any European
settlement. All these circumstances crowded at once upon my recollec-
tion ; and I confess that my spirits began to fail me. I considered my fate
as certain, and that I had no alternative but to lie down and perish. The
influence of religion, however, aided and supported me. I reflected that
no human prudence or foresight could possibly have averted my present
sufferings. I was indeed a stranger in a strange land, yet I was still under
the protecting eye of that Providence who has condescended to call him-
self the stranger's friend. At this moment, painful as my reflections were,
the extraordinary beauty of a small Moss irresistibly caught my eye ; and
though the whole plant was not larger than the top of one of my fingers, I
could not- contemplate the delicate conformation of its roots, leaves, and
fruit, without admiration. Can that Being (thought I) who planted, wa-
tered, and brought to perfection, in this obscure part of the world, a thing
which appears of so small importance, look with unconcern upon the situa-
tion and sufferings of creatures formed after his own image ? Surely not.
Reflections like these would not allow me to despair. I started up ; and
disregarding both hunger and fatigue, travelled forwards, assured that re-
lief was at hand, — and I was not disappointed."

The usefulness of Mosses and Lichens in preparing the first soil of

newly-formed countries, and in draining and consolidating boggy grounds,

lias already been stated. Humble and comparatively useless as these plants

10

74 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

probably appear to many, how important a link do they constitute in that
great chain of nature,—

" Where one step broken, the whole chain's destroyed."

Order 236. Hepatic^. The Liverworts connect the Mosses with the
Lichens. In their habits they are most like the Mosses, having soft and
green leaf-like expansions. One of the most common forms of Liverwort,
the Marchantia Polymorpha, has much to reward the study of the curious.
Besides its regular fructification, it has an apparatus for the production of
small leafy bodies — a sort of buds — which separate of their own motion
from the parent plant, and become individuals themselves. These buds are
produced in small, basket- like receptacles, which are slightly attached to
the upper side of the leafy expansion that constitutes the plant.

Order 237. Lichenes. Plants that grow everywhere — even in posi-
tions which would seem to make vegetation impossible. We find them, for
instance, on the trunks of old trees— on the bare 'face of the rock— on the
top of monuments— on the surface of polished marble. At first thought,
the Lichens might be deemed an idle, miserable race. In fact, however,
they are the humble poor, who can live upon so' little that they can live and
grow anywhere. By persevering effort they indent the rock, and make for
themselves a home. Generation succeeds generation ; and at length a vig-
orous vegetation is found, where once it would have seemed impossible that
it could exist at all. The Lichen is the food of the reindeer, an animal
without which the Laplander could not exist. The Iceland Moss — which
is not a Moss, but a Lichen — furnishes a nutritive and salubrious jelly.
From another sort, common in Sweden, is derived a kind of wax used for
candles. Other kinds contain coloring matter of considerable value.
From the positions which they occupy, it is evident that these plants must
derive their subsistence almost entirely from the air. The fructification of
Lichens rises but little above the general surface. It is usually imbedded
more or less in the substance of the plant, and is contained in cups or
shields, (apothecia.)

Order 238. Fungi. We have now almost reached the foot of the
scale. These are the Mushrooms, Puffballs, Blight, Mildew, Mould, &c.
In simplicity of structure they resemble the Lichens which precede, and
the Algae which follow them. But unlike these, neither air nor water will

LADIES' BOTANY. 75

alone nourish the Fungi. Indeed, they may be called parasitic, since they
must be fed with matter which is, or has been organized. In dark, warm
places, where the process of decomposition is going on, they are certain to
be found. The suddenness and the abundance with which the simpler
Fungi are produced, in situations favorable to their development, have sug-
gested the idea of spontaneous origin and growth. But such explanation is
entirely needless. The whole mighty energy of the shortlived Fungi is
devoted apparently to the production of germs for future plants. Ten mil-
lions have been counted in a single Fungus. How wide must be the diffu-
sion of these germs, when their impalpable powder is dispersed through
the air from ten million plants !

Even animals are subject to the growth of Fungi within their bodies.
This was found to be the cause of the disease called Muscardine, which at
one time seemed to threaten the entire destruction of the silkworm in
Italy and France. The discovery of the true nature of the difficulty led
to a detection of its source, and thus suggested the remedy.

In the process of fermentation, the saccharine matter is converted into
alcohol. This change is produced by the action of a vegetable Fungus,
which abstracts from the fluid, for its own nutriment, that proportion of its
elements that constitutes the difference between sugar and alcohol.

Insignificant and odious even as these Fungi must appear to many, who
have noticed them only in some of their manifestations, they are neverthe-
less of immense utility to man. It is true, that in some of their forms their
destructive energies seem injurious to human interests. Such are Blight,
Mildew, Rust — whose ravages among the cereal grains are often extensive
and pernicious. Such was the Muscardine among the silkworms, and such
is the Dry-rot in timber. In some instances, the growth of Mushrooms
beneath pavements, have made an entire repaving necessary. It is in these
operations that they are more commonly seen and felt.

But their beneficent influences are vastly more extended and important.
In the removal of decomposing matter, so prejudicial to the comfort and the
health of man, they co-operate with insects, and become, like them, the
scavengers of nature. Everywhere the invisible, floating germs of these
plants are diffused through the atmosphere, ready to alight and to multiply,
whenever circumstances favor their development.

" The peculiarity of their agency consists in their power of suddenly
multiplying their numbers, to a degree which could only be accomplished
in a considerable lapse of time by any larger beings ; and then as instanta-
neously relapsing, without the intervention of any violent disturbing cause,

76 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

to their former insignificance. If, for the sake of employing on different
but rare occasions, a power of many hundreds or thousands of horses, we
were under the necessity of feeding all these animals at a great cost in the
intervals, when their services were not required, we should greatly admire
the invention of a machine, such as the steam-engine, which should be ca-
pable at any moment of exerting the same degree of strength, without any
consumption of food during the periods of inaction ; and the same kind of
admiration is strongly excited when we contemplate the powers of insect
and fungous life, in the creation of which Nature has been so prodigal. A
scanty number of minute individuals, only to be detected by careful re-
search, and often not to be detected at all, are ready, in a few days or
weeks, to give birth to myriads, which may repress or remove the nui-
sances referred to. But no sooner has the commission been executed,
than the gigantic power becomes dormant ; each of the mighty host soon
reaches the term of its transient existence ; and when the fitting food les-
sens in quantity, — when the offal to be removed diminishes, then fewer of
the spores find soil on which to germinate : and when the whole has been
consumed, the legions, before so active, all return to their latent, unnoticed
state— ready, however, at a moment's warning again to be developed, and
when labor is to be done again, again to commence their work, either in the
same districts, or to migrate in clouds, like locusts, to other lands. In al-
most every season there are some species, but especially in autumn there
are many, which in this manner put forth their strength ; and then, like the
spirits of the poet which thronged the spacious hall, ' reduce to smallest
forms their shapes immense/ "

It is somewhat remarkable, that in their composition the Fungi bear a
nearer resemblance to animal fibre than any other plants. As might be
expected, some of the Fungi furnish nutritive and delicious articles of food.
Of these the most valuable are Agaricus Campestris, (the common Mush-
room,) the different kinds of Morel, and the Tuber or Truffle. In the
neighborhood of London, Paris, and other great cities, these are exten-
sively cultivated. Much caution is necessary in distinguishing those plants
which are edible and wholesome, from those which are poisonous — espe-
cially as the resemblance is often strong.

The Amanita Muscaria is a Fungus, which, being steeped in milk, is em-
ployed in Europe to kill flies. In Kamtschatka it is used by th/3 inhabitants
for. its narcotic and stimulating properties. It has indeed all the wonderful
and delightful effects of brandy itself. "If a person under its influence
wishes to step over a straw or small stick, he takes a stride or a jump suf-

LADIES' BOTANY. 77

ficient to clear the trunk of a tree ; a talkative person cannot keep silence
or secrets ; and one fond of music is perpetually singing."

Order 242. Alg2b. An immense class, consisting of aquatic plants.
The proper sea-weeds, such as Wrack, Dulse, Tangle, &c, come first
Some of these have stems hundreds of feet long, and expansions (fronds)
as broad as the mighty Palm-leaf. Others are so exceedingly small, that
microscopic power alone reveals their forms. From these plants we go
down by successive steps to the Confervas of stagnant waters, which are
only series of cells placed end to end — and some of which are so constitu-
ted that, when disjointed, each articulation becomes a new plant. There is
a stage still lower, where the plant is reduced to a single cell, containing
matter which, when the plant is mature, gives rise to another cell — in fact,
to a new plant, which can exist only by the destruction of its maternal
source.

It is here, among these humblest members of the vegetable race, that we
most nearly approach, if we do not actually touch the confines of the ani-
mal kingdom. Some savans have indeed asserted, and endeavored to
prove, that the line of demarcation is distinct, and can always be shown.
Others again — naturalists of distinguished name — believe and assert direct-
ly the contrary. It is a point we shall not attempt to decide, though we
have our own opinion on the matter. We certainly do not wonder that
those who have examined the structure and watched the movements of the
Confervse, should have been led to doubt whether, in all their stages, they
could be considered mere plants.

As these movements may certainly be reckoned amongst the wonders of
nature, we shall describe them somewhat particularly. Our account is
abridged from that of the younger Agardh.

The filaments of Conferva iErea are divided, at equal distances, into little
compartments, not communicating with each other, except so far as the par-
titions are permeable. The green matter contained in these joints appears, at
first, altogether homogeneous, as if fluid ; but, after a while, granules appear.
These granules congregate gradually into a spherical mass in the middle of
the joint. At this stage a change takes place — a sort of swarming in the
green matter. The s>mall granules detach themselves from the globular
mass, one after another, and begin to swim about in the vacant space of the
joint with great rapidity. At the same time the outer membrane of the joint
is seen to swell at one particular point, where it forms a small mammilla.
This mammilla at length opens, and permits the sporules to escape. The

78 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

motion of the sporules before their exit consists principally in quick darting*
along the walls of the articulation, knocking themselves against them by innu-
merable shocks. In some instances we are almost forced to believe that it
is by this motion and tapping of the sporules that the mammilla is formed.
From the first instant of the motion, one observes that these granules are
furnished with a little beak, a kind of anterior process, easily distinguished
from the body of the seed by its paler color. Whether the motion of these
bodies be effected by this beak, or by ciliae exceedingly minute, is not en-
tirely clear. The sporules during their movement always present this beak
in front of their body, as if it served to show them the way ; but when
they cease to move, they resume the spherical form by bending the beak
back close to their body.

The sporules having now escaped from their prison into the water, con-
tinue to move round for one or two hours, constantly retreating, however,
towards the darker edge of the vessel, and causing their beaks to vibrate in
rapid curves. At last they collect in dense masses, containing countless
grains, attaching themselves to some foreign body, either at the bottom or
on the surface of the water, where they immediately develop filaments like
jthose of the mother plant. In this way the formation and dissemination of
the seeds continue during the whole summer, and thus a single filament suf-
fices for the production of an infinite quantity of sporules. If one remem-
ber that each joint contains perhaps many hundreds of spores, it is not
astonishing that the water becomes perfectly covered with them.

These Confervas have remarkable powers of vitality. Some of them,
for instance, live and flourish in hot springs of high temperature, and even
those whose waters are strongly mineralized. The Trichodesmium Erjth-
reeum floating in the waters of the Red Sea, has given it the name which
it has borne from time immemorial. M. Evernor Dupont thus describes
the effect produced by this plant :

"On the 8th July, 1843, 1 entered the Red Sea by the straits of Babel-
mandel, on board the Atalanta steamer. On the 15th the burning sun of
Arabia suddenly awoke me, with its brilliancy unannounced by the dawn
I was leaning mechanically out of the poop windows, to catch a little of
the fresh air of night, before the sun had devoured it, when imagine roy
surprise to find the sea stained red as far as the eye could reach behind tte
vessel. If I were to attempt to describe this phenomenon, I would say that
the surface of the ocean was entirely covered with a close, thin layer d
fine matter, the color of brickdust, but slightly orange. Mahogany saw-
dust would produce such an appearance. When put into a white glas

M

\»

LADIES' BOTANY. 79

bottle, it became, in the course of a day, deep violet, while the water itself
had become a beautiful rose-color. This appearance extended from Cos-
seir, off which we were at daybreak on the 15th May, to Tor, a little
Arabian village, which we made about noon the next day, when it disap-
peared, and the sea became blue, as before. During this time we must
have passed through about 256 miles of the red plant." — Comptes rendus,
xix. 171.

To a similar cause may be assigned the phenomenon which is thus de-
scribed in the "Columbo Herald" of May 14, 1844 :

" The sea to southward of Columbo, and more lately, opposite the fort
itself, has presented a very uncommon appearance for some days past. In-
stead of its usual brightness, the surface has been, to a considerable extent,
covered with what appears to the naked eye a sort of nasty froth or scum,
emitting a fetid smell. In the mornings, when it has been usually calm,
this scum has presented itself in broad belts and fields, and by the after
"noon, after being exposed to the sea-breeze, it is broken down into streaks,
lying in the direction of the wind, which, if it blow pretty fresh, disperses
it altogether. We have examined some of this unusual substance in a
tumbler of salt water, and were not a little surprised to find that while it
floated on the surface in the form of a scum, some parts of a yellowish
green, and some of a purplish brown color, it tinged the whole water of a
beautiful violet. We afterwards found that the whole water in the bucket
in which it was brought from the sea, had acquired the same color : and
indeed it appeared to us the other day, when it was very abundant, as if the
sea itself had been stained of this beautiful tint. We found, on minute
inspection, that it consisted of an infinite multitude of little spindle-shaped
bodies, each of which, in its turn, was a bundle of small threads, jointed
but unbranched, and seemingly very brittle. When we read in books of
voyages of ships sailing for so many hours through seas of a blood-color,
and similar wonders, we are apt to suppose the author is taking the liberty
of a traveller ; but witnessing such a phenomenon as this, is calculated to
prepare us for giving them more credit."

A group more simple even than the Confervae is found among the Algae.
A greenish or reddish slime may often be seen on the damp portions of cer-
tain hard surfaces. Examined in the microscope, these are found to consist
of many minute cells, scarcely, if at all, connected with each other, but
imbedded in a sort of a jelly. One species of this sort has been called
gory dew ; another kind, which is found upon snow, is called red snow.
The suddenness with which large tracts of snow became encrimsoned, led

80 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

formerly to the supposition that it was a substance which had dropped from
the sky. But modern science, which nothing escapes, has rectified this
mistake. The red snow is a plant, consisting of a little bag, — in other
words, a cell. Though many of them are found together, they have no
connection with each other. These plants get their nourishment from the
fluid which surrounds them, and from the air. When mature, they open
and send forth many small granules, which thus continue and multiply the
race. Its botanic name is Protococcus Nivalis.

The higher kinds of Algse are found only in the sea. The appearance
of roots, stems, and leaves, which they often assume, is to a certain extent
deceptive. The roots, or what seem such, are only strings by which the
plant is attached to the rock. The leaf, or what seems such, is a thallus,
as the learned call it — a mere bed of vegetable matter, — as though man?
filaments of the Confervae had been laid side by side.

" The higher Algse sometimes attain a prodigious extent of development,
forming vast submarine forests of the most luxuriant vegetation. Thus the
Chorda Filum, a species common in the North Sea, is frequently found of
the length of thirty or forty feet ; and in the neighborhood of the Orkneys
it forms meadows, through which a boat forces its way with difficulty. It
grows in the form of a long and even cord, (whence its name,) about the
size of a quill, attached at one end to the bottom or shore, and the rest sup-
ported by the water." There is another sea-plant, the Macrocystis Pyri-
fera, which far exceeds the Chorda Filum, being, as is affirmed, from five
hundred to fifteen hundred feet long.

Great differences exist in the habits of the sea-weeds. Some species are
entirely and always submerged. Others lift their summits to the surface,
as if seeking light and air. Again, some species, like the Confervas already
mentioned, float on the surface of the sea, having no connection with rock
or shore. Of this description is the Sargasso, found so abundantly in the
Mexican Gulf, and also in the Gulf Stream. So great is its abundance, that
vessels are, sometimes, actually impeded by the resistance which it makes.
A remarkable instance of this occurred in that voyage of more than Ar-
gonautic fame, which ended in the discovery of the New World.

The Algae have their uses. Some of them supply food to various inhab-
itants of the sea ; others are eaten by cattle ; and a few are consumed by
man. The Irish Moss, which is "no moss at all, at all," and the Laver.
are nutritious and valuable. The edible bird's-nests, so much prized bV the
Chinese, is formed by the bird from a species of sea- weed.

Kelp is the ashes of sea-weeds, and was, till quite lately, almost the only

LADIES* BOTANY. 81

0

source of the alkali used in the making of glass and soap. From the Algae,
likewise, Iodine is derived — an article which has become highly important
in the medical world.

Here ends our botanical task, which we quit for that of the horticulturist.
Having endeavored to convey some information in regard to the nature
and properties of plants, we shall now try to show how the finest of them
may be cultivated — to describe the education which they need, the dangers
to which they are exposed, and the defects which ought to be remedied.
Our theme will be the hygiene, the pathology, the therapeutics of the
Flower-garden. Here, at least, we can describe and elucidate these grace-
ful and beautiful subjects without resorting to a barbarous dialect.

11

THE CULTIVATION OF FLOWEKS.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE,

PART I.

ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLES.

We can conceive of no amusement more pleasing and innocent, than
that which is found in the culture of flowers — whether in the garden or
upon the terrace— on window balconies, or within our apartments.. Lovely
children of the sun ! how delightful to watch your birth, your gradual de-
velopment, and your expanding bloom ; to cherish you — to direct your first
movements — to provide for your wants and your security — to witness your
chaste love — and to receive and protect your numerous progeny ! Here
are agreeable emotions for every month of the year — for every day of the
month — for each hour of the day. It is, as it ought to be, a recreation for

«

souls refined, for pure hearts, and even for exalted intellects.

In this pleasing employment we would fain initiate the inexperienced,
who, though charmed by the Beauty, and perfumed by the fragrance of
flowers, have hitherto been content merely to admire them. Delicate
hands and rose-tipped fingers may indeed lose, for a moment, some of their
beauty ; but there is so much to compensate for this trifling inconvenience,
that the fairest hand will run the risk.

SOIL.

Of the three kinds of soil used for plants, one is composed mostly of
clay. Its color is either gray or yellowish. It may be found everywhere,
but in consequence of its compactness and its coldness, it is not suitable for
flowers, until mixed with manure.

84 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Another kind is the light sandy soil — the same, indeed, as that last men-
tioned, but modified by the admixture of sand and of vegetable mould.
The sand renders it porous and easy to work. When improved by manure,
it answers admirably for many flowers.

Furze-earth, however, is that which is found most useful, and which is
most frequently employed for the raising of flowers. It is produced by the
decay of those multitudes of heath-plants which grow in sand, and which,
by mingling with it, render it fertile. This earth is specially suited to bul-
bous plants.

To remove stones and all foreign substances, the soil should in all cases
be well stirred and harrowed.

The manure generally employed in the cultivation of flowers is of two
kinds — that which results from the decomposition of animal matter, and
that which has a vegetable origin. For shrubs and plants with fibrous
roots, the first is well suited ; while the latter is preferable for all plants
with bulbs.

In gardens we have only to improve the soil we find. But when we
would ornament with flowers a terrace, or balcony, or window, we mutf
provide the mould in which they are to grow. The surest and best method
in such cases, is to purchase from the regular florists, a suitable material.
At those establishments, every kind of soil and of manure may be found in
abundance. Not only may these be had at any of the four flower-marketi
of Paris, but the respectable seed-merchants who sell them, are always wil-
ling to give directions as to their use*

SITUATION.

For plants with scaly or tunicated bulbs, a southern exposure is belt
The east is favorable to those plants which have fibrous roots, and which
grow in the open ground — though some of these do quite as well when
turned towards the west. A northern exposure is suitable only for ti*
evergreens, and certain plants which cannot endure the sun, — as primroses,
periwinkles, and auriculas. Where it can be had, the south will always be
preferred, it being easy to add whatever advantages are possessed by the
others, by means of watering, awnings, and other modes of protection.

It is important to remember, that air and water are as indispensable to
vegetation as the sunlight itself. The plant which only fades and droops
in the window of the first story, if placed two stories higher up, will **

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 85

cover all its health and beauty. This accounts for the fact that the win*
dows of the poor in our large cities, always surpass, in their show of
flowers, those of the more wealthy,* — -just as we find children in the coun-
try more robust than those of the towns.

In Paris, houses of five, six, eight, and even ten stories, are hot uncom-
mon. You may see such in the passage Radsiville. The lead terraces
which form the tops of these houses have all the appearance and effect of
delightful gardens, adorned with beautiful flowers, and even with fruit-trees
which bear profusely.

It cannot be denied that plants sometimes resemble certain pretty
women. They, too, have their caprices and their whims. The plant
which, tended, with the utmost care, is still puny and miserable, will be
strong and luxuriant in the chink of the wall, where the winds have de-
posited a handful of dust, and the skies have sent a drop of moisture.

These, however, are but the exceptions ; nnd we are glad to say that at-
tentions paid, whether to woman or to a ilower, are seldom thrown away.

POTS — BOXES — IMPLEMENTS.

Although some plants flourish better in the open ground than anywhere
else, there are many which can be successfully cultivated in boxes and
pots, if rightly formed and of sufficient capacity. When the vessel is too
small, the roots become crowded, and the plant suffers or dies. Pots of six
or seven inches in diameter answer for small plants. For larger ones, the
size and depth of the pot should be proportioned to the size of the plant.
Both the pot and box should have holes, to facilitate the escape of water ;
and for the same reason, it is well, before filling the vessel with mould, to
place over the hole an oyster-shell, or a curved piece of earthenware. If the
plant be of a kind to which humidity is injurious, a layer of plaster, about
three inches thick, should be placed below the mould. The flower-garden-
ers of Paris, whose skill is unsurpassed, make great use of this method —
and it was this which led to the charge that gardeners put lime .beneath the
plants to cause their destruction, and thus increase the sale for them.
Slacked lime placed at the bottom of the pot, would probably do no great

* In France, the ground-floor, (rac-de-chaanee,) with the upper stories, and the attie, (man-
•arde,) are often occupied by families in moderate or humble circumstances ; while the first and
•econd floors are ranted by those of considerable wealth. — f Ta-

86 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

harm ; it might, in some cases, be even beneficial. Lime, like salt, has been
misunderstood and calumniated. Formerly, when a nobleman was con-
demned for the crime of high treason, his armorial ensigns were binned,
his castles razed to the ground, his forest-trees girdled, and his grounds
sown with salt, that they might be doomed to perpetual sterility. Fortu-
nately, things are changed since then, and salt is now regarded as a valua-
ble manure.

Flower-boxes are either portable or stationary. The portable boxes are
used in the same way as the pots. The box should be firmly made, and
should have one or two coats of oil paint, to preserve it against the effects
of moisture. If constructed for the accommodation of a plant of large
size— a shrub, for instance, or small tree— -it should be made with moveable
panels, so that the mould can be changed when necessary, without injury
to the roots.

The stationary box is usually intended for balconies, and contains a num-
ber of plants and shrubs. The size and form of these boxes vary accord-
ing to the fancy of the individual who orders them. Their depth should
not be less than twenty inches. In that case, they afford all the advantages
of the open ground. •

The box being constructed — and it is one of the simplest things in the
world — the next step is to fill it with a soil adapted to the plants which it
is proposed to place in it. Should these differ in their habits, and require
different sorts of earth, a mixture must be made. This may be as follows:
of the clay-soil five-tenths — of the sandy, three-tenths — and the remainder
of furze-earth ; the whole being enriched occasionally with a little manure.

If the flower-box have a southern exposure, it will be necessary to fit up
a small awning of suitable height, which can easily be drawn over the
plants, to protect them from the intensity of the mid-day sun. If made of
waterproof cloth, it will also defend them from rains, when too frequent or
too copious, and from the cold damps of autumn.

As the weather becomes cold, the box should be protected on the outside
by a quantity of horse-muck, and should be covered over with straw fine
and dry— care being taken occasionally to remove the covering when the
weather moderates, that the plants may not be entirely deprived of air.

The tools required for cultivating flowers on the scale supposed, are not
many : a couple of watering-pots — several glass covers — a pruning-knife-
a knife for grafting — a pair of pruning-shears — a transplanting tool — and a
trowel, to do the office of a spade, will probably be found sufficient.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 87

GREENHOUSES.

When kept in pots or portable boxes, plants cannot endure the cold, as
when they are in the open ground. In the latter case, the frost affects
only the surface, while pots and boxes are exposed in every part. They
should be placed, therefore, during the winter, .in a cool greenhouse, or
orangery, where the temperature is never lower than three degrees above
the freezing point of water. If the greenhouse cannot be had, a room can
easily be fitted to answer the purpose. The room should be well lighted,
free from dampness, and large enough to hold the plants without crowding.
If there be a fireplace, it should be stopped up, and a stove placed in the
middle of the room, for the purpose of maintaining a uniform temperature.
The heat of the apartment should never exceed five degrees above the
freezing point. The water put upon the plants should be of the same tem-
perature with the air in the room. This greenhouse chamber should not
be inhabited, as in that case, the human being and the plant would alike
suffer. The atmosphere of the greenhouse should be often changed, and
the time for doing this should be when the outer air is warmest. Open
then the windows, but not without looking at the thermometer. One will
soon discover what plants require the greatest amount of air and light, and
these he will place nearest the windows.

The greenhouse window, as it is called, is another method of protecting
plants. But this is dangerous and inconvenient, besides being costly.
Windows with double sashes, when the space is sufficiently wide, may
easily be converted into small conservatories.

Farther particulars under this head are unnecessary. Circumstances,
locality, existing arrangements, will suggest the best course in each case
that may occur.

THE MULTIPLICATION OF PLANTS.

Our botanical inquiries have shown us that every seed contains within
itself the germ of another plant, as complete as that by which it was pro-
duced, and that we have but to place this seed in the earth in order to ac-
complish the reproduction. But it is not by this means only that plants are

88 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

reproduced. So active is the life within them — so liberally are they
endowed— that almost every part is itself a whole, demanding for its
development merely a little earth, and sun, and air. The different modes
by which plants are propagated will now be given.

PROPAGATION BY SEEDS.

This is the most natural mode, and it is the slowest. It is by means of
seeds that we obtain different varieties of the same species. Plants thus
raked, more readily accustom themselves to the soil and the climate, and
they grow more luxuriantly than those which are obtained by other pro-
cesses. These live out their natural term ; while the life of plants differ-
ently obtained is, in some sense, grafted into that of others. It is very
difficult, however, to procure good seeds, even from the most celebrated
dealers. The surest way is to raise them and label them with care.
Without this precaution, we are liable to impositions and mistakes, all the
more vexatious that, when discovered, the evil is past remedy. We give
one example from a thousand.

Madame the Baroness of X., a charming lady, who was accustomed to
see every obstacle disappear before her firm resolve, was suddenly seized
with a violent passion for gardening. It was the commencement of spring-
Before the apartments of the baroness there was a fine terrace. Flower-
boxes are constructed under the immediate direction of the fair and noble
gardener. She fills them with soil carefully selected. The seeds hate
been purchased, and you may now see her handling the trowel and sowing
her seed. They come up admirably. The baroness is delighted. With a
mother's tenderness she watches over these poor little plants, from which
she expects to pluck beautiful flowers. "My borders," said she, "aw
sown with double and variegated larkspurs. In the centre I have digitalis,
hortensias, paeonies, &c. How delightful it will be ! To me these flowers
will all owe their existence !"

The time seemed to pass slowly — but she reflected, that every thing hap-
pens at the right time, to him who knows how to wait ; and she schooled
herself to patience. The plants grew rapidly. The boxes were covered
with a carpet of verdure. The first day of June arrived, yet not a flower
had made its appearance. Madame X. happened just then to receive *
call from a learned horticulturist. Anxious to obtain his opinion of her

LADIES' HORTICULTURE; 89

plants, arid to learn the cause of their tardy blooming, she led him out on
the terrace. At the first glance, the horticulturist gave a hearty laugh.

" Your pardon, fair lady," said he, immediately : " what did you sow in
these beds ?"

" Some larkspurs, which ought to be splendid ; some paeonies ; some" —

" Surely, then, a sorcerer must have passed this way, for your borders
consist of very fine carrots. In the centres I perceive some luxuriant rad-
ishes, onions of the finest sort, and" —

" You wicked wag !" said the baroness.

The learned man made no reply, but stooped and pulled up some little
carrots large enough to put into a ragout — some onions that might answer
the same purpose — and several radishes of a very fair growth. The disap-
pointment of the handsome gardener was so great, that she gave up-gar-
dening and had the boxes removed.

Spring is the best time for sowing. The plants obtained from new seeds
are generally more healthy and robust than those which spring from old
ones. But the latter, when they have been carefully preserved from damp-
ness, produce more brilliant flowers, and furnish more numerous varieties.

Very small seeds should be mixed with fine sand, in order that they may
be more equally distributed. The same process facilitates the sowing of
the hairy and downy seeds. The ground being well prepared by stirring
and raking, small seeds should be sown on the surface, and then, by means
of the hand, or foot, or of a board, gently pressed in. A slight sprinkling
should follow, and then a thin layer of manure should be spread on top.
Larger seeds, like peas, Spanish beans, &c, should be placed in small holes
made by the planting-tool, at a depth of from one inch to two inches.
They should then be watered, and the hole filled with a compost of earth
and manure. Seeds and plants in pots may be watered advantageously by
partially immersing the vessel. The fluid gently ascends through the
pierced bottom, and gives great activity to the vegetation. Whether the
plants raised are to remain in their place, or to be taken up and put else-
where, the method is the same.

As large seeds germinate more slowly than small ones, their growth may
be accelerated by soaking them in water twenty-four hours before they are
committed to the earth.

When nuts are to be planted, they must undergo a preparation of several

months' duration. Upon a layer of fine sand at the bottom of a tub is

spread a layer of the nuts ; another layer of sand succeeds, and so on.

This must be done in autumn. When the cold weather comes, the tub is

12

90 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

placed in a cellar and frequently watered. In the spring the seed* will be
found to have germinated, and will be ready for planting.

Some seeds will not germinate without a higher temperature than that
of the spring air. In large gardens such seeds are planted in beds. In
smaller gardens, upon terraces and balconies, the place of beds is easily
supplied. In the centre of a flower-box make a cavity about three feet in
diameter. Fill it to within a third of the distance from the top, with horse-
muck well pressed down, and upon that place a compost, and sow your
seed. This is called planting an the capot. The watering should be
slight but frequent. If the plant be delicate, cover it with a bell-glass,
taking care to give it the air by degrees, until it shall be strong enough to
dispense with the protection. It can then be transplanted without risk.

All plants do not bear transplanting equally well. Plants which are deli-
cate in this respect, should be sown in small pots, which should be buried
in the capot to their upper edge. When, following the treatment already
prescribed, the plants shall be strong enough to bear the open air, the pot
should be removed and carefully broken, so that the plant may be set out
with all its earth about it.

As to the proper depth for sowing seeds, it is not easy to lay down rules.
Fine seeds, as we have already stated, need only be thrown on the surface,
— after which they should be gently pressed down, slightly watered, and
subsequently covered with a thin layer of manure, or of chopped straw.
In regard to seeds which must be buried, it is better to err on the side of
shallowness than of depth. In the one case, more earth can be added ; in
the other, the seeds rot. For seeds as large as the bean, a depth of one
inch is sufficient.

PROPAGATION BY OFFSETS.

All is in all, said a modern philosopher. The paradox is somewhat
bold ; yet so many things, once considered as paradoxes, are now regarded
as great and noble truths, that we shall not venture to deny this one the
rights of citizenship. What do I know ? said Montaigne ; and we of the
present day may say the same. We are surrounded by too many wondeis
to pronounce any thing impossible. Observe this Tulip, adorned with the
most beautiful colors. In a few days that splendid corolla will have fallen
off, and the seed which succeeds the flower will ripen in the sunshine.
Each of its seeds will produce a Tulip like the parent plant. But this ii

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 91

not all. Pull up the plant; from the principal bulb detach the smaller
ones that adhere 4o it, and which are called ofisets ; and each offset will
bear another Tulip, with flowers not inferior.

All plants with bulbs produce offsets, which are to be planted the season
after, and from which individuals may be obtained not less perfect than the
mother plant. These shoots should not be detached from the original bulb
until just before they are to be planted. They are not only better pre-
served thus, but they actually improve during their union.

The same term is also applied to the fasciculated roots of the Dahlia, the
Paeony, the Ranunculus, &c.

When these bulbs are removed from the soil, they should be labelled
with care, in order that when again planted in plat-bands, the different
shades of color may be so arranged as to produce a pleasing effect.

Bulblets are small aerial bulbs, growing in the axils of the leaves, from
which they are spontaneously detached at maturity. These bodies, an
example of which is furnished by the Tiger Lily, like the offsets, produce
new plants.

PROPAGATION BY SUCKERS.

Suckers are shoots which spring up from the root of the parent plant.
Suckers are removed in autumn, unless there be reason to suppose that
they will not stand the winter. In such case, the transplanting must be
deferred till spring.

Perennial plants, whose roots are very fibrous, may sometimes be propa-
gated as follows : The plant is taken up in autumn, and its roots are divided
into many parts, each of which is replanted by itself. This separation
may generally be effected by means of the spade, the trowel, or the
shears. There are some cases, however, where more careful treatment is
required, and where the hand alone should be used to separate the fibres.

PROPAGATION BY LAYERS.

Propagation by layers is one of the easiest as well as most important of
the methods in use. There are indeed many plants which, in our climate,
can be successfully multiplied in no other way. There are different modes
of raising plants by layers.

92 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

Layering bt Bending. — This is one of the most simple and most com-
mon methods of propagating shrubs. A branch growing near the ground
is selected, and bent at the point which is to enter the earth, until the bail
begins to crack. A part of the branch is then depressed, laid in the earth,
covered over, and made fast by means of wooden forks. The outer end
of the limb is now placed in a position as nearly vertical as may be.
This process requires a careful hand and considerable dexterity. If in
bending the branch it should be partially broken, the operation is useless
Nor will it be less so, if this process should in part sever the branch from
its parent stem. The reason is obvious. Until the bent and buried por-
tion have sent out roots, it has no means of sustenance except the mother
plant. It is a child at the breast, which must be removed gently. Even
when the layer has taken root, and is in a condition to draw from the
ground all the food it requires, it is not safe rudely to sever it from its ma-
ternal source. It must be cut gradually, a little at a time, until the ampu-
tation is complete. In this weaning process, these, fortunately, are infants
that never cry — infants that are never peevish, never troublesome. Onr
affection for the plants may, without injury to them, be carried even to the
verge of weakness. They can make a mother happy, without also causing
her pain.

Sometimes a slit is made in that part of the branch which is to be
buried, and this slit is kept open by means of a small stone. This is called
layering by incision.

Layering bt Strangulation is another mode. A dreadful term to de-
note a thing so simple. Nor is this the only objection to it : it does not
give a just idea of the process. The layer is not really strangled by the
operation. Were that the case, it would be deprived of all nutriment, and
would soon die. The process thus called, consists in making, with a waxed
thread or iron wire, a tight ligature around the layer, just below one of the
buds, which are to be laid down. The layer is thus compelled to derive a
larger part of its sustenance from the soil; being deprived of a part of that
which it before received from the parent stock. In this way gradual
weaning is always accomplished.

Layering by Amputation. — If one were to judge from the frightful
names which the gardeners have given to some of the most simple and
innocent operations, he would suppose them to be a very ferocious class of
men. Amputation in this case means a slit about an inch long, for the

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 93

purpose of raising the bark and of slightly scratching the wood. Around
this slit there will be formed in a short time an excrescence. This part
being put under ground, soon takes root.

Layering in Mounds. — This method is only used for plants which are
to be raised in tufts or bunches. A heap of good soil is made around the
young plants, covering them to within one-third of their tops. The plants
are then cut off on a level with the surface, and the heap is kept constantly
moist. In about a year's time, the plants are cut off under the mound and
level with the ground. We thus obtain as many new plants as there are
stems in the heap. The mother plant is now ready to shoot up again.

In all cases after the branch has been laid down, it should be kept con-
stantly moist. When the layer, having taken root, is separated from the
parent plant, the lump of earth which immediately surrounds the roots
should be taken up and transplanted with it.

When the branch to be laid down is so far from the ground that it can-
not be bent without danger of breaking it, it may be passed through a pot
pierced for the purpose — being filled with earth and raised upon a prop.

Many flowers, and especially pinks, are propagated almost entirely by
means of layers. Plants thus perpetuated never degenerate; but it is
from seeds only that new varieties are to be obtained.

PROPAGATION BY CUTTINGS.

With some plants, as the Poplar and the Willow, it is only necessary to
cut off a branch and stick it into the ground, in order to insure its growth.
Is it not wonderful that a member thus violently severed should be trans-
formed into an individual perfectly similar to that of which it was lately but
an humble part! But why should a process so easy for some plants,
be difficult for others, and for some, absolutely impossible ? This is a
problem which no one understands, and which, probably, never will be
understood. It must be acknowledged that philosophers of the highest at-
tainment, are yet, in some particulars, profoundly ignorant — wholly incapa-
ble of explaining the reasons for many of the phenomena which are taking
place around them. We must rest contented with seeing and admiring ;
and so agreeable often is this recreation, that we may well be content
with it.

Generally, those plants which have tender wood and much pith, are

94 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

easily propagated by cuttings. If the wood be hard and dry, this method
is less apt to succeed.

The operation, as we have just seen, is a very simple one; still some
care should be used to insure success. The branch which is to be used in
this way, should be cut just above one of its knots or buds. The knife
should be held obliquely, so that the section may be elliptical. The leaves
should be stripped off for two-thirds of its length from the cut end. In all
such operations, a sharp instrument should be used, that the severed parts
may be left smooth, and that the bark may not be torn. This done, the
cuttings should be at once inserted in the earth already prepared for them,
according to the nature of the plant. For cuttings from strong plants, a
good rich soil is suited. Tree and shrub cuttings, intended for the open
ground, or even for the orangery, do best in a soil half clayey, half sandy.
Cuttings of plants with tender, succulent stems, do best in sand. Still
more delicate plants require pure furze-earth, or the same slightly mixed
with muck.

When trees and shrubs are to stand in the open air, the cuttings should
be made near the end of February. Those of greenhouse plants are made
in the spring.

Although the method we have now pointed out is the one in general use,
there are other ways of preparing and planting slips. For instance, a year
before the branch is to be cut, it is sometimes girdled tight with iron wire,
at the point which is to be inserted in the ground. This ring intercepts a
portion of the sap, and forms at that point an elevated ridge, which facili-
tates the process of taking root.

Two branchlets united, are sometimes so cut as to form a fork or crotoh.

The cuttings of plants with hard and dry wood, are put into pots filled
with furze-earth. The pot should be buried to its upper edge either in a
bed, or in the capot of the flower-box. The glass bell which protects H
should occasionally be removed, that the plant may acquire sufficient vigor
to bear the open air.

PROPAGATION BY GRAFTING.

Grafting is the triumph of Art over Nature. It is at once the most use-
ful and the most marvellous of all the operations of horticulture. Thus far
we have seen in what various ways plants reproduce and multiply them-
selves: now we shall find them undergoing a thousand metamorphoses.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 95

Certainly this is one of the greatest and most inexplicable of the mysteries
of vegetation. Persons unacquainted with gardening often suppose that if
you plant the seed of a fruit-tree, you will obtain a fruit precisely similar.
The conclusion is logical — it seems perfectly natural. And yet it does not
agree with the facts in the case. You shall plant the stone of some deli-
cious cherry, say the Montmorency, and shall tend with the utmost care
the tree that shall spring from it. When it comes to bearing, what will you
find ? A small, sour fruit — a cherrystone barely covered with a hard 6nd
dry skin ! It is so with every kind of fruit. Who can explain this ? So
it is — so it must be : this is the extent of our knowledge. But though we
do not know the cause of this phenomenon, it is not beyond the reach of
remedy. That remedy is grafting, by means of which the most valuable
kinds are reproduced. Grafting consists in making a plant bear flowers
and fruits entirely different from its natural produce. Cut off a branch of
the black cherry, whose fruit is so crude — make a slit in the trunk — insert
in that slit some small twigs taken from the Montmorency cherry, — and in-
stead of a sour fruit, it will give you a delicious one. And not only may
the same tree be made to bear fine cherries, but prunes also, and apricots,
and peaches.

Grafting makes the flower more beautiful, and improves the qualities of
the fruit, but the grafted plant is made by the process less vigorous and less
enduring. „ If one wait until the plant have acquired great strength for
grafting, it will be slow in producing fruit. If it be grafted while. yet
weak, it will bear fruit sooner, but will not last so long. It is by giving to
plants a more luxuriant existence, that grafting shortens their duration.
We cannot have every thing at once. Beauty and durability seem to be
opposed to each other. This, ladies, is one of those unpleasant truths,
which the parties concerned are allowed to call paradoxes.

Cleft-gbafting. — Of the various modes, this is the easiest, and conse-
quently, the one most practised. In the first place, the stock selected
should be healthy and vigorous. We will suppose that an Eglantine, or a
common Wild-rose, is to be changed into a Cabbage-rose. Having cut off
a branch of the Eglantine, you make a cleft or slit across it, into which
you will insert a branch of the Cabbage-rose, of last year's growth, cut
wedge-like at its lower extremity. The graft should be smaller than the
stock, or certainly no larger. The scion should be so cut as to contain not
more than two of three buds. It is not necessary that the insertion should
be very deep, but it is absolutely necessary that the bark of the stock and

96 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

the bark of the graft should be in close contact. It is by means of the bait
that the union is effected.

Several scions may be grafted upon the same stock, when the latter is
vigorous. One part of the plant may be grafted, and the other part left in
its natural state. Thus upon a pink Rose you may graft a white, and have
both kinds at once— and these modifications may be carried to an unlimited
extent by a practised hand.

After the insertion of the graft, a woollen ligature is placed around the top
of the stock, and the whole is smeared with a composition made as follows:

Btugundy pitch 5 tenths.

Black pitch 2 tenths.

Yellow wax M 1 tenth.

Rosin ~ 1 tenth.

Mutton tallow 1 tenth.

These ingredients should be melted together, and the cement should be
applied before it is entirely cold.

Crown-grafting. — For this method strong stocks are required. The
trunk is cut off at about two-thirds of its height from the ground. In per-
forming the operation, a small wooden wedge is used, in order to effect a
separation between the bark and the wood quite round the circumference
of the stem. The scions, prepared as for the last-named method, are then
inserted ray-like all around. Care must of course be taken that bark meets
bark, and the parts must be protected as in cleft-grafting.

Budding. — This kind of grafting answers only for those shrubs and trees
whose bark is easily detached. It may be performed either in spring, when
the sap is ascending, or in autumn. The latter season is generally pre-
ferred.

If the operation be performed in November, it should be with buds of
the same year's growth. With the grafting-knife make a shield-like in-
cision completely round a well-developed bud. If the knife be now inserted
between the bark and the white-wood, the bud will be detached. Two in-
cisions, the one horizontal and the other vertical, are then made in the
bark of the stock. The two incisions, if the season be autumn, should
have the following form : T- The bark is then lifted from the wood srf
ficiently to admit the bud, the bark edges being brought as nearly as pos-
sible into contact. The bud roust be kept in its place by a ligature of wool
or tow, taking care to leave the eye of the bud uncovered.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 9?

Grafting by Approach. — In order to practise this mode of grafting, the
shrubs or trees which are to be inarched, must be near neighbors. Sup*
pose, for instance, that a Lilac and a Syringa stand so near that a branch
of the one can be brought into contact with a branch of the other, — it will
be easy in that case to obtain Lilacs from the Syringa, or Syringas from
the Lilac. Selecting a branch from each, taking care to have them about
equal in size, slit off a piece from the stock of about two inches in length.
Then make a small notch in the slit downward. The branch of the shrub
to be inarched should have a similar slit, cut with a tongue upward. This
tongue must be inserted in the slit of the stock, and the rinds, as in all
other cases, must be equally joined. Next follow the ligature and cement.
In this method of grafting, the scion is not separated from the tree until it is
firmly united with the stock, nor is the head of the stock or branch which
is grafted, cut off till the same time. This method is chiefly employed in
raising Jasmines, Oranges, and other exotic trees.

Experience has shown that the Walnut, Fig, and Mulberry will take by
this method of grafting, while neither of them succeed in any of the other
modes. Grafting by approach is best performed in spring, when the sap is
going up.

Whip-grafting. — This method requires young stocks, and scions of the
same size with the stocks. Each receives a sloping cut, but in opposite
directions, so that the two sections fit one another. To make them hold
more securely, a slit is cut downwards in the slope of the stock, and a
tongue to fit it is formed on the slope of the graft. Spring is the season
for this mode of grafting.

Herb-grafting. — This is nothing more than cleft-grafting applied to
herbaceous plants, or even to ligneous plants, while yet young and tender.
It is employed with success when the stock is in its most vigorous condi-
tion, that is, just before flowering. Both stock and graft being very tender,
considerable dexterity is needed.
13

98 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

THE EDUCATION OF PLANTS.

From seed, or sucker, or layer, or otherwise, the plant is now bora.
Now, more than at any other time, it requires maternal tenderness and
care. A breath of wind may overset and destroy these poor children of
the earth, which have just come forth to smile in the sunshine. They are
helpless, yet require to be moved. It is the time, ladies, when you should
lend them a succoring hand, and as they have begun to grow, remove them
from their cradles, where they are ill at ease. But be on your guard:
however tender your feelings— however' gentle those fair hands— the
slightest inattention may compel you to reproach yourselves ^Hh the
death of these frail infants.

When, by any of the modes above given except grafting, the plant has
attained a certain degree of strength, it should be placed either in the open
ground, or in the stationary box, which is very nearly the same thing, or in
a portable box or pot. This process, called replanting, is one of the most ^
important operations in gardening.

Replanting. — Whether the plant have been sown in the open ground,
on a bed, or in the capot, or have been raised in some other way, a time
comes when it must be taken up, and placed where it can have more scope,
and in the position which it is to adorn. If the plants to be replanted are
contained in pots, these should be broken with care, and the several plants
separated from each other, preserving, as far as possible, the mould
around them. They are then put into the holes prepared to receive them,
and immediately watered. Strong plants can be removed without these
precautions. The tap-root of such plants, when deemed too long, is some-
times cut off, as well as some portion from the head of the plant. No rule
can be given on this point ; and generally, it is better to leave the roots
entire and the tops unmutilated.

It should be borne in mind, that each plant should be transferred to a
soil that is suitable, and which has been properly prepared. Watering
must be frequent until the plant be well rooted.

Transplanting differs but little from replanting. This operation is
most successful in the latter part of November. If a shrub or tree is to
be removed, its branches are pruned, but the roots should not be touched.
In case any of them are broken or wounded, the bruised parts should be

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 90

immediately amputated with a sharp knife. This will remedy in part, but
cannot wholly repair the evil. In transplanting Evergreens, a clump of
earth should be taken with the roots, and their tops should not be mutilated.

Watering. — We must repeat that water is no less necessary to plants
than light and air. But all plants do not require it alike. There are many
gradations between the plant which germinates and grows in the river-bed,
and that which flourishes only upon some arid rock. In general we may
say, that fleshy, spongy plants require but little moisture. Fibrous and
ligneous plants will bear considerably more, — yet even these may be, and
often are, watered to excess.

In winter, the watering should be after sunrise, that the water may not
be congealed. In summer, the evening is the best time for watering. The
evaporation then is so slight, that the effects of the water continue much
longer.

The water used should have about the same temperature with that of the
atmosphere. When drawn from deep wells, it should be exposed for several
hours to the influence of the air. Rain-water, when it can be had, is to be
preferred. Not only should the roots of plants be watered, but also their
stems, branches, and leaves. The flowers alone should not be wet.

Repotting. — This process is merely the removal of a plant from one
vessel to another, for the purpose of renewing the soil. A plant may re-
main without detriment in the same vessel two years, or at the farthest,
three years. It then becomes necessary to repot it, an operation which is
best performed in early spring. The earth in the pot having been allowed
to dry, the plant is raised, and its roots are gently shaken. The extremi-
ties of the fibres should then be clipped with sharp shears, and the plant
deposited in the vessel which has been prepared for it. There is another
operation called semi-repotting, which consists in removing annually a
third or a half of the earth from the pot, and supplying its place with fresh
soil.

If a plant seem to be dying without apparent cause, remove it at once,
wash and examine the roots, and if any part be diseased, let it be carefully
cut away. Repot the plant, and if it be delicate, place it on the capot and
under a bell-glass, until it shall have acquired sufficient strength to endure
the open air.

100 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

INSECTS.

Four kinds of insects particularly infest flowers: these are — the puceron,
the ant, the kermes, the tick.

The pucerons abound in humid seasons. They fix themselves on the
ends of the branches, and devour the leaves and even the flowers. When
not very numerous, they may be removed by means of a small brush, or
even a feather. If very abundant, the plant should be sprinkled with soap-
suds.

Ants are destroyed with less facility, on account of their extreme activ-
ity, which enables them to be here, there, and somewhere else, at almost the
same moment. They may be prevented from ascending the stems of
plants, by placing around them a ring of carded cotton. This is to them
an impracticable barrier. When exposure has made the cotton hard, it
must be changed. This applies to plants in open air. Plants in pots and
boxes are made perfectly secure, by putting them in a place surrounded by
water.

The kermes* are a sort of bug which particularly infest Orange-trees.
The surest and best method of destroying them, is by means of a rough
brush and clean water to wash the stem and branches, and to water the
leaves with soap-suds.

Ticks are the insects generally found upon Lilies. They may be de-
stroyed by sprinkling the plant with a decoction of tobacco. This decoc-
tion is sufficient, indeed, to destroy any insects that infest plants. But
there are many plants which could not endure such watering. Another
and safer way of using tobacco is to expose the plants for a considerable
time, to the smoke of this fragrant and beloved weed.

* This insect is the Coccus Ilicis, long supposed to be the Beeds of the tree which they freqped
—-and before the introduction of Cochineal, much used as a red and scarlet dye. Kermes impu*
a deep-red color to the cloths which are dyed with them, and though it is less brilliant than the
scarlet of the genuine Cochineal, it is more enduring and less liable to stain. This is shown by tht
Flemish tapestries of 200 yean ago, aU of which were dyed with kermes. — [T*.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 101

PRUNING.

Pruning is an operation confined mainly to fruit-trees. When orna-
mental trees and shrubs are pruned, it is to improve their form, or, in some
cases, to accelerate their growth. A few directions must suffice.

Small limbs may be removed by means of a sharp pruning-knife. The
edges of the scarf should be free from raggedness. The part of the branch
which is severed should be smooth, and it is desirable that it have a north-
ern exposure. For large branches the handsaw must be used ; the surface
should be afterwards trimmed and smoothed with some sharp tool.

When a branch is cut off, at least one bud should be left below the point
where the amputation is made.

It is of the utmost consequence that the pruner remove all those branches
called gormandizers, which bear no fruit, but which grow rapidly at the
expense of the productive members.

The best season for pruning is the end of February and the beginning of
March.

Great rapidity in the growth of tree or shrub, is unfavorable to the de-
velopment of flowers and fruits. Such a tree is said to run all to wood.
This is a difficulty which pruning will not reach — it being too late. There
is, however, a simple method of preventing the branches from growing too
rapidly : this is, to pinch with the finger nails the extremities of the branches.
This will not diminish the virtues of the sap, but will compel it to flow back
into the buds.

It sometimes happens that all the branches of a shrub or tree must be
removed, either for the purpose of giving the limbs a new direction, or be-
cause some malady in the plant has made the operation necessary. When
this is done, it should be with great care, or it may entirely stop the growth.
It is important that a few small twigs with buds, should still be left. It is
also necessary, after the large branches have been cut off, to protect the
wounded parts with the cement used in grafting.

The process called shearing is one which demands less care. It consists
in giving shape to certain shrubs and trees, and is performed by large
shears, which clip into symmetry the ends of the branches. It is by means
of shearing that the Orange-trees in the gardens of the Tuileries at Paris,
as well as in the principal public gardens, have assumed and retain, all of
them, the same form, and look like balls of foliage. By the same process.

102 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

shrubs may be shorn into the shape of pyramids, of goblets, and almost
any thing yon please. But we are far from approving of this sameness—
this symmetry, which alters the natural aspect of plants, and takes from
them whatever they possessed that was wild and rural. It is an act of
tyranny, as well as one of barbarity and cruelty. He who does this, substi-
tutes his own will for that of Nature, making his victim suffer, at the same
time that he deprives it of a portion of its charms. Prune, then, ladies, as
much as you please, but do not shear.

Such, fair readers, are the elements of this art. They are easily learned,
and may become an exhaustless source of those innocent enjoyments, which
no eloquence of language can adequately describe. Ye truly animated
Flowers ! to you belongs the task of rearing, guiding, and adorning these
frail but charming sisters, which heaven gave you, after having endowed
you with those delicate perceptions which enable you to appreciate their
value. The love of flowers is instinctive to the heart of woman ; nor have
we a doubt, ladies, that there are many among you who possess intuitively,
that skill which is required in cultivating them. Still we think it best to
give you a little advice in regard to the particular treatment of some of the
finest among them. Good advice is an eye in one's hand, says the old
proverb ; and it is not impossible that the most skilful of our fair readers
may derive from it some aid.

THE CULTIVATION OF FLOWERS.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE.

PART II.

In this department we have nothing to do with botany. We arrange the
flowers, not according to tribe, family, or genus, but simply in their alpha-
betical order. We have no longer occasion to count pistils, stamens, and
petals, but rather to ascertain the best modes of rearing the finest varieties
of each plant, to whatever tribe, or family, or genus it may belong. We
have thus an easy treatise, which one may study with equal satisfaction,
whether he commence at the beginning, the middle, or the end. It is in
fact a dictionary, or more properly a counsellor, ever ready to do a kind-
ness, without being particular as to etiquette and form.

Still it might be read through consecutively. The thing is not absolute-
ly impossible. We have already related to you miracles greater than this
would be. Even here, perhaps, under the rude garb of the gardener, you
will sometimes meet with the story-teller. Let us take courage, then, and
begin.

ACONITUM. Woiyt-BAifB.

There are three varieties of this plant, which flower in June : Aconitum
Napellus, with turnip-like and poisonous roots, and a stem three feet or
more in height, surmounted by a spike of beautiful blue flowers ; Aconi-
tum Grandiflorum, whose flowers are of a still brighter blue ; and Aconitum
Lycoctonum, with yellow flowers. They are fibrous-rooted plants, propa-
gated by cuttings, and requiring a rich soil and rather shady location.

104 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

ADONIS, (SUMMER.)

An annual plant, raised from the seed, and producing, in July,
white, yellow, and red flowers, as the variety may be. The Vernal Adonis
is a perennial, which blooms in July and bears very fine yellow flowers.
This species may be multiplied by cuttings. Furze-earth suits both kinds.

ALYSSUM SAXATILE.

A fibrous-rooted plant, producing in May small flowers of a beautiful
golden yellow. A rich soil. It is raised from^eeds, or better from cut-
tings made in autumn.

AMARANTHUS.

The Amaranth is a charming annual, of which we name two varieties:
Amaranthus Caudatus, (Love lies bleeding,) bearing flowers in June on
very long spikes, and Amaranthus Tricolor. These two varieties are raised
from seeds sown in March. Let not the soil be too rich.

AMARYLLIS.

Bulbous plants, which flower in September. Soil : a mixture of loam,
leaf-mould, and sand. Propagated by offsets, which are removed from the
main bulb once in two years. There are many kinds — we name a few 01
them : Amaryllis Johnsoni, with deep scarlet flowers, and a white streak
in the middle of each petal ; Amaryllis Aulica, a splendid flower, seven
inches in diameter — the petals green at bottom, with spots of dark crimson
gradually fading into a beautiful red ; Amaryllis Longiflora Striata, white
flowers, striped with pink ; and the Guernsey Amaryllis, a beautiful Japan-
ese plant, whose history, in part, we have already given in the Ladies'
Botany.

AMETHYSTEA.

An annual plant, which bears in June handsome blue flowers. Propa-
gated from seeds sown early in Aprils in furze-earth enriched by muck.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 105

AMOMUM.

A pretty shrub, varying in height from three to five feet. In August it
has white flowers ; in September, red fruits resembling cherries, but not
edible. Light sandy soil. Raised from layers, and from seeds sown the
last of March. They need much air — the soil should be often stirred — and
they should be watered moderately.

ANAGALLIS.

A small shrub, which b^ars red flowers in May. Light rich soil, and a
plenty of water. Propagation by layers and suckers. To be kept in the
greenhouse during winter.

ANEMONE. Wind-flower.

A beautiful plant, with very numerous varieties. The finest are those
whose shades of color are clear and well marked, from sky-blue to orange.
These beautiful varieties can be had only from seed sown early in March.
The plants should be often watered. No flowers are borne the first year.
In June or July the leaves fade ; the bulbs should now be carefully lifted,
and dried in the shade. In October they must be replanted, taking care to
leave between the plants a space of one or two inches. In the following
April they bloom, and you have now a collection of them, which you will
replant annually in October. They should have a deep, rich soil, improved
by manure and old leaves.

Anemones raised in pots within-doors, may be made to flower in mid-
winter. But when thus forced, they lose their reproducing power. One
should be quite sure that he is already rich enough, before he kills the hen
that lays the golden eggs.

APOCYNUM. Dogbane.

A fibrous-rooted plant, bearing in July small white bell-shaped flowers.

It is sometimes called the Fly-catcher. The honey-like odor of the flower

attracts these insects, which are then held fast by a viscous liquor that lines

the inside of the corolla. A light sandy soil. Propagated by cuttings in

October, and by seeds in March.

14

106 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

AQUILEGIA. Comment

We have the common Columbine and the Canada Columbine. Tbej
bloom in May. The former has blue or rose-colored flowers, very pretty;
the flowers of the latter are of a beautiful yellow. Propagated by cuttings,
and also by seeds, which should be sown as soon as they are ripe.

ARBOR WTJE.

A small evergreen tree. It is employed in adorning courts and terraces,
and is injured by neither cold nor moisture.

ARENARIA. Sandwort.

Charming little white flowers, which in the month of May make their
appearance in the midst of grass-plats, and which form very handsome
borders. They need a good soil and frequent watering. Raised by slips
from the roots in October, and from seeds sown in the latter part of March.

ARTEMISIA ABROTANUM.

A pretty shrub, from five to six feet high, producing in August beautiful
small flowers in clusters. The leaves have an agreeable, citron-like odor.
Raised in pots, which must be taken in with the first frosts. Water moder-
ately. Propagated by seeds, and still more easily by cuttings in March.

ASCLEPIAS.

A plant with fibrous roots. In July small red flowers appear, having
very distinctly the odor of vanilla. It requires the furze-soil and frequent
waterings. Multiplied by seeds, or more readily by cuttings, towards the
end of October. There are many varieties, but the same treatment suits
them all.

AZALEA.

A very beautiful shrub, from three to five feet high. It flowers in May.
Its flowers have a delicious fragrance, resembling that of the honeysuckle.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 107

The varieties are of different colors. They require the leaf-mould, with
frequent waterings. Raised from seed, from layers, or from suckers, in
March.

BALS AMINE.

An annual with tuberous roots. The flowers are pretty, and expand in
July. Watering should be moderate. Raised from seeds sown the last of
March, and replanted in May.

BASIL.

An annual, valued chiefly for its agreeable odor. It blooms in May, and
is raised from seeds sown upon muck in April. There are numerous
species.

BEAD-TREE.

An evergreen, which in July is covered with flowers of a delicate blue,
and very fragrant. The soil should be leaf-mould, enriched by muck.
During winter it must be kept in the greenhouse. It should have air and
light in abundance, with moderate watering. Reproduced from layers and
seeds*

BEAN-CAPER.

Flowers of a reddish color appear in September. Leaf-mould. Water
it seldom, and place it early in the greenhouse.

BIGNONIA

This handsome plant usually attains a height of five feet. The flowers,
which expand in June, are brown on the outside, and of a beautiful yellow
within. It is not impossible to raise it from thtf seed, but it is difficult — and
the seed does not come up until the second year. The surest and most
simple method is to raise them from cuttings, from suckers, or by layers.
"Waterings frequent.

108 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

BLADDERNUT-TREE.

A shrub of three or four yards in height. It is best adapted to a large
garden, though we have seen handsome specimens in stationary flower-
boxes. Clusters of yellow flowers appear in June. Propagated by suckers
and layers. It requires but little water. There are many kinds, but the
culture is the same.

BRAMBLE.

Here we have an unfortunate plant, which has been greatly abused ty
moralists, who are always comparing human life to a path strewn with
thorns and brambles. Ah ! gentlemen, have you, who know every thing,
and a great deal more, have you yet to learn that there are charming
brambles in the world without a single thorn ? We repeat.it — charming
brambles, without thorns, with striped leaves, with double pink flowers, and
with white fruit ! It is no uncommon fault to allow ourselves in the use of
language, which only serves to confirm and to diffuse erroneous notions.
For instance, some stupid naturalist affirmed and wrote that the crab walk
backward. This is a mistake which forty centuries will be insufficient to
correct. The fact is, that the crab goes forward like every other animal
endowed with powers of locomotion. He can, however, swim backwards,
Alas ! it will be with the brambles as it is with the crabs, and it is all in
vain that we endeavor to place them in their true position. Still, we shall
act upon that excellent rule — Do that which is right, let come what meg.
We therefore reaffirm that there are species of the Bramble which are
very pretty. Such are the Scollop-leafed Bramble, the Canada Raspberry,
and several others. The soil should be good, with a northern or western
exposure. Raised from seeds or from layers. They flower in July.

BUGLOSS.

A fibrous-rooted plant, having small blue flowers of handsome appear-
ance. Raised from seeds, or more easily from cuttings. To be watered
moderately.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 10?

CAMELLIA.

The Camellias, which, when first introduced, were called Japan Roses,
have become the most fashionable flower among the higher classes.

The Camellia is a beautiful evergreen shrub, producing, in the month of
February, splendid flowers, which, according to the variety, are red,
white, or pink, but in all cases perfectly inodorous. In the greenhouse
they will bloom from October to May. The best soil is a mixture of loam,
leaf-mould, and sand. They should be placed near the window, as without
a good light they suffer. They require considerable water during summer,
and but little in winter. They are raised from seed sown on the capot and
under the bell-glass. Also by slips with difficulty, and by layers. But a
more common method is by grafting or budding the finer varieties upon
less valuable stocks.

Grant that this flower is very beautiful, does it deserve the currency
which it enjoys ? Upon our honor, we believe it owes it mainly to the diffi-
culty of cultivating it. However that may be, Camellias have become
indispensable requisites in preparations for the ball-room; while certain
amateurs have revived in our day, with regard to this plant, the follies
which distinguished the Tulip-amateurs of the last century. Quite lately
an action was brought before the Paris tribunal of trade, in reference to
two Camellias which had been purchased for eleven thousand francs. The
purchaser had bargained for these shrubs, which were at the time in New
Orleans, solely on the faith of certain drawings which had been shown him.
The Camellias were brought at a heavy cost from America. They were
then in flower, and the buyer refused to take them, on the ground that the
flowers differed from those which had been shown him in the drawings.
He was, however, condemned to accept the tender, and to pay for the
plants. Compassionate souls! be not too ready to pity him. The trial
brought some recompense. All the newspapers reported the details.
Everybody felt a desire to see these extraordinary plants, which were de-
posited in the winter-garden of the Champs-£lys£es. - The receipts for
admission to this establishment were doubled in consequence; and the
avails from the flowers of these two Camellias, sold singly, amounted to
four thousand francs ! Ten years hence the same shrubs will be sold, in

110 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

the Paris flower-markets, for thirty sous apiece. In the native clime of
Roses, the reign of Camellias cannot be very lasting.

CAMPANULA.

A durable plant, with fibrous roots, raised from either seeds or slips, and
producing, in the month of June, some very pretty bell-shaped flowers.
Water often during summer.

CATANANCHR

A beautiful blue flower, which comes in July. Leaf-mould, and but little
water. Raised from slips.

CENTAUREA SUAVEOLENS. Yellow Sweet Sultan.

Large flowers in August, varying in color with the different varieties.
Raised from seeds sown in February. Some kinds are perennial, as the
Mountain Centaury, the White Centaury, and many others. These are
propagated by slips taken in October.

CEREUS. To&CH-THwri*.

Large and splendid flowers, which come out in August either white or
red, as the variety may be. They should be frequently watered during the
heats of summer, and only then. Propagation by slips, which should be
taken off eight or ten days before planting them.

CHINA ASTER.

The flowers of this plant aspire to be rivals with those of the Camellia,
and the varieties are hardly less numerous. They bloom late, and when com-
bined in large collections, present a fine appearance. They are raised with
great facility. The best seed is that which is gathered from the extremity
of the plant, and should be kept a year before sowing it.

CHRYSANTHEMUM.

A Chinese shrub, valuable for the lateness of its bloom, being in flower

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. Ill

from the beginning of October until the frosts come. There are countless
varieties. They should be lifted in March, divided and replanted. They
need a light and rich soil.

CLEMATI& VnGnft Bower-

A handsome climbing-plant, bearing, from July to September, countless
flowers of an agreeable fragrance, and requiring very little attention. In
the interior of France, the Clematis is very generally used to adorn the
cottages of the poor. The seed is dropped without much care into any
little corner near the house, and the very first year it rises and attaches
itself to the side of the building under whose shelter it is placed. It
climbs gradually up, seeming to caress the modest walls that protect it, and
at length overspreads the rustic roof, from which it diffuses far and wide its
fragrant emanations* The Clematis is one of those flowers which it is
impossible not to love. Who would imagine, that a flower so gentle and
innocent, could become the exciting cause of a great crime ?

In the year 1808 Madame the Baroness de Cauville, having been entirely
ruined by the Revolution, was residing with her young son, about twelve
years old, in a modest cottage in the village of Bazincourt, (Eure.) The
priest of the village, a noble-hearted and worthy man, had, from motives of
friendship,. undertaken the education of young Cauville. He thus effectu-
ally assisted the mother, whose income was now reduced to a few hundred
francs. The good cur6, however, was himself poor, and the health of the
baroness was declining. To this were added her private sorrows. The
scaffold had deprived her of her father, her husband, and most of her rela-
tives— while the few of them who escaped it, had died in foreign lands.

Her malady made rapid progress. Madame de Cauville was soon so
feeble that she was obliged to keep her bed. It was now the month of
June. Arthur de Cauville did not leave his mother's side, unless it were to
prepare the medicines ordered by the physician, or to go in quest of flowers
which were grateful to the invalid.

"Ah!" exclaimed the baroness one day, "how favored is this Mr.
Guiron in having that beautiful Clematis, which I see climbing over the
roof of his house, and which sends its delightful fragrance even to my bed.
How I should like to have a branch of that beautiful plant."

Arthur soon found his neighbor Guiron, and asked permission to pluck a
few sprigs from his Clematis. This Guiron was one of those heartless

112 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

men who appreciate no pleasures beyond the gratification of the animal
appetites.

" Formerly, Mr. Baron," said he sarcastically, " a person of your rank
would not have deigned to ask any thing of a man like myself. He would
have just taken what he wanted, without even a ' Thank you !' Tiroes are
changed. It is each one's duty to take care of what he has. The Clematis
is mine, and I forbid all the barons in the world from meddling with it"

" Sir, let me entreat you/' said the youth, who could not restrain his
tears — " it is to gratify a sick person ; one who is perhaps dying" —

" Indeed ! and will any such kickshaw as that prevent her from dying?
Don't disturb me with your nonsense !"

Arthur went back with a blush on his face, and with despair in his heart
He said nothing to his mother of the humiliating repulse which he had just
received. As she still expressed a wish for a branch of the Clematis, he
told her that he would see M. Guiron at evening, and that he could proba-
bly get permission to gather some stems of the beautiful plant.

At evening the youth went. out. He climbed up a low wall, and was
thus enabled to reach the plant, from which he quickly cut several sprigs.
Rejoicing in his innocent larceny, he was just retiring, when Guiron, who
had heard a noise, came out with his gun and fired at the young man.
Arthur uttered not a cry nor a groan. He regained his mother's room.
He placed in her hand the branches of the Clematis, and fell before he
could utter a word. Maternal love and anxiety gave Madame de Cauville
sudden strength. She sprang from the bed and endeavored to raise the
youth. She entreated him to speak ; but Arthur heard her not. The ball
had penetrated his lungs ; it was only by an effort most extraordinary that
he had succeeded in getting back to his mother. As he fell, he drew his
last breath !

Apprized to its full extent of her calamity, the unhappy mother, without
a cry or sob, took in her arms the lifeless body of her son — she pressed it
to her bosom — and so expired. Thus locked together, the two corpses
were found on the following morning by the worthy parson.

The murderer was tried for the crime, and was acquitted, on the ground
that he committed the act in lawful defence.

COB^A.

A climbing-plant, which, with its fine green foliage, often covers the
garden-bower, or forms, by training, tunnels of flowery verdure, which are

LADIES* HORTICULTURE. 113

very pleasing. From June to September it is covered with yellow and
violet flowers, blooming and fading in quick succession. This is another
of the poor man's comforters. It is at the attic or garret window that we
most frequently see it. It requires as little attention as the Nasturtium, its
usual companion. Soil : a mixture of loam, leaf-mould, and sand. It is
propagated from seeds, and requires frequent waterings.

COLOCYNTH.

This annual is chiefly remarkable for the singular shape which its fruit
assumes — such as that of a bottle, a pear, &c. This fruit, when cleared of
its interior part, and dried, is used for various domestic purposes* The
seed should be sown in March, on the capot and under the bell-glass.
When the stem has attained to considerable length, its extremities should
be pinched, to promote the growth of the fruit. The fruit is plucked in
September.

CROCUS.

A bulbous plant, producing in February flowers of various hue. They
require a rich soil — may be planted in beds or rows — and should be re-
moved once in three or four years.

CROWN IMPERIAL.

•

A bulbous plant, whose large and handsome flowers, generally of a beau-
tiful red, make their appearance in April, and form a crown of one or two
rows at the top of the stem. They need considerable water. Raised from
seeds, or better still from offsets, which are removed from the bulb every
three years, in May or June, and at once replanted.

CYCLAMEN.

The flowers of this plant expand in May. They have this peculiarity—
that the corolla is turned towards the ground. It has in consequence been
made the symbol of .regret. Several sorts are cultivated, and some of
them are fragrant. But the general aspect of these flowers is gloomy.
With Chateaubriand, one might say that they seem to be impatient for the
tomb. This circumstance, however, furnishes no justification for the disa*

15

114 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

greeable name by which it is vulgarly known.* A light soil and but tittle
water. To be taken in with the first frosts. Multiplied by roots, or by
seeds sown near the end of June, in pots. In the following March the
plants should be raised and replanted.

CYPRIPEDIUM.

Brown flowers of singular shape, which make their appearance in Jane,
and exhale an odor similar to that of the Orange-blossom. The four petals
of this flower resemble the vans of a wind-mill. They do best with a
western exposure, and frequent watering. Propagated from seeds sown ia
March.

CYTISUa

The flowers of this shrub appear in June, and are of a beautiful yellow.
Let the soil be light, and give them very little water. Raised from seed or
from slips.

D

DAHLIA.

This flower, which has unfortunately no odor, is one of the most beauti-
ful. It is borne by a plant with tuberous roots. It is easily cultivated.
The tubers must be lifted before the severe frosts, and replanted in the
spring. They are in flower from the last of July until late in October. It
exhibits colors the most varied and most beautiful. The Dahlia is a striking
example of the influences of cultivation. Compare the flat, meager origi-
nal of this plant, with the rich, full, glowing hemispheres of petals which,
in all their thousand varieties of form and shade, adorn so many gardens.
In the garden of the Luxembourg, at Paris, there is an immense collection
of these plants — and well is it worth one's while to behold this sea of
flowers, as it undulates beneath the passing breeze.

We are told that recent experiments made at Chambery, have shown
that the tubers of the Dahlia may be so cooked as to become delicious arti-

* Pain de PoasMtu.

LADIES4 HORTICULTURE. 115

cles of food. But so small is our confidence in the culinary abilities of
these chestnut-eaters, that we greatly doubt the fact.

DAISY.

A beautiful perennial plant. Its flowers in April enamel the greensward,
and to accomplish this, they require nothing but a ray of sun and a drop of
dew. Of this genteel little villager, education has made a fine lady. Her
simple attire has been adorned with various shades of rich color, and her
form has gained in elegance what it has lost in modesty. By culture
Daisies become double, and are white, red, pink, striped, &c. Yet, not-
withstanding these metamorphoses, the Daisy is content with very little.
Some good, fresh soil is ail it wants.

DAPHNE.

A greenhouse shrub, about three feet high, producing in January small
green flowers of an agreeable odor. They require a good soil, with fre-
quent but not copious waterings. Raised from seed sown upon the capots,
under glass.

DATURA.

A plant with snow-white flowers, which bloom in August, and are very
fragrant. Leaf-mould ; no water in the winter, and but little in summer.
Raised from layers. The slightest cold being fatal to this handsome plant,
it must be sheltered in good season, and kept in till May. It needs a full
light

DIGITALia

Flowers in August, upon a spike with various hues, for the different va-
rieties. It requires a rich soil, and not much water. Propagated by
suckers in autumn, or from seeds sown as soon as ripe.

116 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

E

ERYNGO.

A blue flower which appears in August. A good soil required. Raised
from suckers or from seeds.

EVERLASTING.

An annual which in August shows white, or violet, or gray, or yellow
flowers. This plant owes its name to its remarkable property of retaining
its hue and its shape for a long time after it has become dry. Even when
at length it has faded, the color may be restored by exposing the flower to
the fumes of vinegar. It requires a light soil, and is raised from the seed,
which is sown in the spring.

FENNEL-FLOWER.

This is an annual, bearing fine blue flowers, that come out in July. Give
it a rich soil, and water moderately. It is propagated from seeds, which
are to be sown in April.

FEVER-FEW.

Perennial, with fibrous roots. It has large white flowers, which come in
June. A good soil and but little water. Raised by slips in autumn or in
March.

FRAXINELLA.

This is a singular plant. In warm and dry seasons a sort of gas ema-
nates from it, which takes fire if a light be brought near. Its large purplish
flowers come in clusters, and are beautiful. Easily raised from seeds sown
in August, or from slips taken in November.

LADIES* HORTICULTURE. 117

FRENCH MARIGOLD.

Blooms in September, with large flowers, white or yellow, as the variety
may be. Sow the seed in March ; replant in May or June.

G

GENTIAN.

Large flowers of a clear blue. They need a vegetable mould, and co-
pious waterings. Sow the seed as soon as ripe, or take cuttings in No-
vember.

GERANIUM.

A handsome shrub, of which there are many varieties. Some of them
are without odor ; others exceedingly fragrant ; and others again «mell of-
fensively. Yet these furnish some compensation in the beauty of their
flowers. These plants require air and light, but not much water. They
are easily raised from slips, as everybody knows. The almost countless
varieties have been obtained from the seed, or by the process of hybridizing.
As a matter of strict botanic truth, the Geranium of the greenhouse and
parlor window is a Pelargonium.

Some of the species have tuberous roots and fleshy stems. They are
less easy of cultivation than the others, but well repay the necessary care
by the beauty of their flowers, some of which exhibit, in the same flower,
the rare combination of purple and green.

GLADIOLUS. Swoed-ult.

A bulbous plant, which blooms in May. Its flowers are pink, or white,
or red. They should be kept dry during winter, and be planted out in
March. Towards the end of September lift the bulbs.

GLOBULARIA Blub Damt.

This gives in June small blue flowers, which are gathered into a ball,
' and produce a very pleasing effect. It requires a light soil, and is multi-
plied by means of slips.

118 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED,

GOLDEN-CUP.

A delightful little flower of the Ranunculus family, which expands in
June, and has the shape of a cup or button of a beautiful yellow. Prop*
gated usually by offsets from the roots. To be watered often.

GOLDEN-ROD.

It blooms in August. Its flowers are small, yellow, abundant, and pleas-
ing. Raised by slips taken in October.

GRASS OF PARNASSUS

It has white and yellow flowers, and is a plant of singular appearance,
owing to a sort of scales and of cilia with which it is garnished. It s
perennial, and needs frequent and copious supplies of water at all seasons.
Propagated by slips from the roots, taken in spring.

H

HAWTHORN.

Who is unacquainted with this delightful shrub, which, towards the end
of April, fills all our fields with fragrance ? Little need be said respecting
its culture. It grows spontaneously among all sorts of trees — in the midst
of live hedges — on the edge of the forest — and upon the steepest hillside.
In temperate climes it will grow in any soil.

The Hawthorn is fit only for gardens that are considerably extensive.
Cultivation adds nothing to the fragrance of its flowers— but it makes them
more numerous, and increases the size of the shrub.

The Hawthorn is the emblem of innocence — but of innocence agitated
by hope and by fear. It is a plant requiring little water, and an abundance
of air. Propagated by layers, by budding, or more easily from seeds, which
should be planted as soon as they have attained maturity.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 119

HEATHS.

Pretty shrubs which produce, in rooms, a very agreeable effect. They
may be cultivated in pots or in portable boxes. During winter they should
be kept either in the orangery or in the greenhouse. They are multiplied
by slips or by layers. The species are numerous, but they require the same
culture.

HEDGE-MUSTARD.

Yellow flowers, not particularly beautiful. They are raised from seeds
or from cuttings.

HEDTSARUM.

A plant which bears red flowers upon a spike. It loves a light soil, and
is propagated by seeds sown in April.

HELIOTROPE

A shrub which produces small violet flowers of a very sweet odor.
They should have a light soil, with frequent watering during summer, and
little or none in winter. Raised from seeds, or from slips in the hotbed.

HELLEBORE.

This plant bears yellow flowers, nearly scentless. Its root is fibrous — it
is very hardy, and needs little care. It has the advantage of blooming in
midwinter. There are two varieties, and they are propagated by cuttings.

HEMEROCALLia

A charming flower, similar to the Lily, and in fragrance unsurpassed
even by that queen of the parterre. There are many varieties. A light,
rich soil, and moderate watering. Propagated by offsets, which are sepa-
rated and replanted in autumn. To be kept in the greenhouse during
winter.

120 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

AlBISCUS PALUSTRIS.

An annual plant. Its flowers are large and white, with a little rei
They need a light soil and little water. Propagated from seeds sown in the
spring.

HIBISCUS SYRIACUS.

This is the Althaea Frutex, a small tree, of which there are several v*
rieties, with flowers of varying hue, from white to deep red. It makes i
fine ornamental hedge.

HOLLYHOCK.

A large and superb biennial plant. It grows to the height of nine or teo
feet, and bears flowers which exhibit all the shades of color. There are
already innumerable varieties, and the number increases every year. It
requires a good soil and but little water. Sow its seed near the end of
April.

HONEYSUCKLE.

A favorite' climbing-shrub, frequent in the woods, where it lavishes its
sweet perfume, in recompense for the support which it receives from the
tree round which it twines, and from which death alone separates it It *
used likewise to ornament the finest gardens. But although culture takes
nothing from it, it cannot be said to improve its qualities. It needs but
little water. The same culture suits all its varieties.

HORTENSIA.

A showy ornament in the flower-garden. Its flowers of pink, or red, or
blue, expand in August in the shape of large balls. A light soil, and a good
supply of water. This is a hardy plant. At this moment we have before
our eyes a large $nd splendid specimen, growing in the open ground, where
it has been these ten years, constantly improving in size and beauty. It *
safer, however, to take them in during the severity of winter.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 121

HYACINTH.

This bulbous plant is among the first to bloom in spring, and it is among
the most beautiful. Its fragrant flowers are of every hue, and the sorts are
numerous as those of the Tulip. It is propagated by offsets from the bulbs,
which should be detached as soon as the flower decays, and dried in the
shade. In September plant the offsets in good soil, enriched with mould
and muck, having previously moistened it with salt water* They should
have a covering of straw during winter.

The Hyacinth is one of those plants which possess the property of vege-
tating in water. In this way it is possible to have them in flower all
winter. The process Is a simple one. Glass vessels made for the purpose
are filled with Water slightly saline. A Hyacinth bulb is placed in each
vessel, so that the lower part is immersed in the water. Fresh supplies
must be given, as the water evaporates or is absorbed by the plant. In
this way flowers are produced, not less beautiful or less fragrant than from
those bulbs which are planted in the ground. But bulbs thus forced lose
their germinating power, and when they have done flowering, must be
thrown away*

1

ICE-PLANT.

The thick stems of this annual are garnished With transparent globules,
composed of a limpid watery fluid. These drops during the hot season are
so numerous, that the plant seems to be enveloped with an icy crust.
This, however, is its only claim to consideration. Raised from seeds sown
in April ; the plants should be set out in June^

There are two sorts of Iris, each of which has many varieties : one has
fibrous roots — the other is a bulb. The former produces in May handsome
flowers, which are blue, or pink, or white, or striped, and which are also
very fragrant.

Those which have bulbous roots also bloom in May, and are not inferior

16

122 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

to the others in beauty or in perfume. These are multiplied from layers,
which are detached every second year.

Certain amateurs have made beautiful collections of these two kinds of
Iris.

ixiA.

Beautiful bulbous plants of various hue, from purplish red to snow-white
Reproduced from offsets, which should be replanted in September. To be
kept in the greenhouse from November to April.

JESSAMINE.

An exceedingly pretty shrub, with white or yellow flowers, in bloom
from July to September. A rich soil, mingled with leafy mould. To be
well watered during the summer. Propagation by layers.

LAMIUM.

A handsome plant, with fibrous roots, producing large white flowers
spotted with a beautiful green. Give it a rich soil, and multiply it by slips
or by seed.

LARKSPUR.

An annual plant. Its handsome flowers are borne upon a spike, and pre-
sent every imaginable shade of color. There can be nothing prettier is
June and July than a border of Larkspur. There is no flower which adds
more to the beauty of the parterre, especially when there is a proper blend-
ing and harmonizing of the different colors. Success in this respect de-

LADIES1 HORTICULTURE. 123

pends upon the care with which the seeds are collected and assorted. The
soil should be rich ; the watering frequent and abundant.

There is another kind of Larkspur, having a loftier stem and larger
flowers than that just mentioned. This is a perennial plant, and is multi-
plied by slips from the root in the month of October.

LAUREL.

A handsome tree, whose leaves and wood have a highly aromatic odor.
It needs a good soil, but little water. Raised from seeds, or from layers in
the spring. In the greenhouse during the cold weather.

LAURESTINE.

An evergreen shrub. Its flowers are white within and red on the out-
side. Let it have a good soil, with some leaf-mould. It should have little
water and no sunshine. Raised from cuttings in autumn.

LILAC.

The handsomest, gayest, and most graceful flower of spring. This ^
charming shrub, which embellishes and perfumes the last days of April and
the earliest of May — with its beautiful green foliage that lasts till October
—is indispensable in the garden, upon the well-adorned terrace, and even
on the balcony, if reasonably large. It pleases everybody, is propagated
in many ways, and requires no care.

There are varieties of the Lilac. Such are the common Lilac, a large
shrub, which sometimes attains a height of more than twenty feet, and the Per-
sian Lilac, a smaller shrub, with smaller flowers, but not less agreeable. The
Lilac does best in a good soil. When the flowers have faded, it is well to
cut off the clustered receptacles. Some of the French gardeners have
succeeded in making the Lilac bloom twice in a season. To accomplish
this, they cut off the flowers in May as soon as they begin to fade ; and
towards the end of the month they strip the tree of all its leaves. But it
cannot long endure this treatment, — the shrub perishes in the course of
three or four years.

124 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED,

WLY.

This is the queen of the flower-garden. One needs but see the flower
to understand why the rulers of France should select it to adorn their
escutcheon. Beauty, dignity, exquisite fragrance, are the inheritance of
this majestic flower. There are numerous varieties, among which may be
named the Lily of Constantinople, the Double Lily, the Orange Lily, the
Turban Lily, the Tiger Lily, and the Martagon, The bulbs of the last-
named are, when baked, an agreeable article of food. Of all the varieties,
however, the White Lily is most prized.

The cultivation of this handsome plant is not difficult The bulb is put
into the ground either in the autumn or in March. It requires a rich soil.
Every two or three years the bulbs should be lifted, and the offsets removed
and replanted.

In the open air the odor of the Lily is delicious, but it is dangerous in
confined apartments. Not only is it unpleasant in its effects upon the ani-
mal economy — it is sometimes sufficiently powerful to produce asphyxia.
Here is another point of resemblance to the powerful of the earth, whose
contact with the huinble is so often fatal.

LILT OF THE VALL

A delightful flower, growing wild and beautiful in the woods, which it
fills with fragrance. It of course needs but little care. It is propagated
by slips from the roots. The Japan lily of the Valley, another species,
with blue flowers, is to be cultivated in the same way.

LOBELIA.

A handsome fibrous-rooted plant, producing clusters of large and hand-
some flowers of a beautiful red. It should have a good soil, and a plenty of
water. Raised from slips taken from the roots,

LUNAftlA.

An annual plant. In April it has flowers in clusters, which, according
to the variety, are white, red, or speckled. Raised from seeds sown towards
the end of March.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 125

LUPINE.

There are two sorts in use— the Perennial Lupine and the Annual Lu-
pine. They bloom in June. Their flowers last long ; those of the former
are pink-colored at first, but become blue when fully expanded. The flow-
ers of the Annual Lupine are of a fine yellow, and are also fragrant. Both
sorts are raised from seeds sown in the last of March.

LYCHNIS.

Handsome five»petaled flowers of various colors. It is a fibrous plant,
and may be multiplied by seeds, or layers, or slips. Give it plenty of
water.

M

MARIGOLD.

Yellow flowers, appearing at the end of April. There is nothing partic-
ularly interesting in this plant. Still its culture is easy, and it adds to the
variety of the flower-garden. It is raised from seed sown in March, and
covered with a little muck. We have two sorts ; one of saffron yellow —
the other white. The latter has the singular property of closing itself
when the air is damp. The same treatment for both.

MARJORAM.

A shrub with white or pink flowers, which are very sweet-scented. A
light soil, and but a little water. In winter it must be kept in the green-
house. Raised from seed or from shoots.

MELILOT.

Blue and fragrant flowers in clusters. A good soil and moderate water-
ing. Sow the seed in April.

126 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

MELISSA.

Little white flowers of no special note. This plant has the odor of
citron distinctly marked. Give it a light soil, and but little to drink.
Raised from seeds or by means of slips.

MIGNONETTE

A small perennial plant, known to everybody. There is nothing remark*
able in its appearance, but its perfume rivals that of the Rose. It is mul-
tiplied by divisions of the roots, or by sowing the seed. Any soil will
answer, if it be not too dry.

The Tree Mignonette does not differ essentially from the sort just named
It is formed by removing the lower branches, and keeping the stem erect
by means of a support, until it becomes strong and woody.

MYOSOTia

This is the Forget-me-not. It has delicate little flowers of a beautiful
blue. Let it have a good soil and frequent watering. They are raised
from slips.

MYRTLE

A pretty shrub — the symbol of successful love. It is aromatic in every
part, and bears a small white flower. There are several varieties, all of
which require the same treatment. A good soil, with leaf-mould inter-
mingled, a southern exposure, and frequent waterings. It is to be kept in
the greenhouse during winter, and should have a full light. Propagate by
means of layers, or from seeds.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 127

N

NARCISSUS.

A bulbous plant, bearing a handsome and fragrant flower. It blooms in
May. There are many species, and these have many varieties. The
bulbs should be lifted towards the end of June ; the offsets should be de-
tached, cleaned, and kept dry in the shade of the greenhouse for three or
four months. Give them, when replanted, a good soil, mixed with leaf-
mould and manure. They require a good deal of water. The Narcissus
will grow, like the Hyacinth, in water.

NASTURTIUM.

A pretty climbing-plant, which, as it requires but little care, is a very
common ornament in the windows of the poor. It has fine verdure and
charming flowers. It is raised from the seed, which is sown in April. If
watered sufficiently, it will thrive anywhere.

Though far more beautiful than many others, this modest flower is
despised by the rich and fortunate. Indeed, the poor thing is much abused,
even while dispensing her unbought favors to all who seek them.

o

OLEANDER.

A shrub much cultivated. There are many varieties. The flowers,
which appear in June and July, are pink, or white, or yellow. Only two
sorts are fragrant : one, which is called the Sweet-scented Laurel, bears
flowers of a very light pink, and has an odor somewhat resembling that of
the Violet ; the other kind has white flowers, half double and gives out an
odor resembling that of the Hawthorn. The same culture for all — a light
soil, little water, and the sunshine. Raised from layers and from suckers
in the spring.

J2S THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

ORANGE.

/ In hot countries, and even in the south of France, the Orange grows id
open ground, yielding abundantly its fragrant and delicious fruits. In
colder climes the Orange is cultivated mainly as a tree of ornament, or for
the sake of its beautiful and sweet-scented flower.

The culture of the Orange-tree is less difficult than is commonly sup-
posed. It requires a good and rich soil. It is not very sensitive to cold;
and though it is prudent to keep it in the greenhouse from October to
April, yet it might be left out without danger, so long as the cold is not
greater than four degrees below the freezing-point of water.

About the end of April, Orange-trees should be placed in the open air.
The large branches and the trunk should then be washed with pure water,
and the foliage sprinkled freely. The soil in which they grow should be
renewed every two or three years. When the leaves, usually of a bright
green, begin to turn yellow, it is an indication that the tree is straitened
for room— that the roots are crowded. The difficulty may be remedied
either by pruning the branches, so that the tree will require less nourish-
ment, or by placing the tree in a larger vessel.

The Orange is readily propagated by layers, and with equal ease from
the seeds. In a suitable compost, plant the seeds of a ripe lemon ; place
the pot which contains these in one still larger, filled with horse-muck.
Cover the pot with a glass bell, removing it occasionally for the purpose of
airing and of watering. This should be done in March. In May the glass
may be dispensed with, and the plant will be large enough to separate and
to set out in pots or boxes. Particular care should be taken, while separa-
ting and removing these young plants, not to detach from their roots the
earth which may adhere to them.

Orange-flowers fresh picked command a high price. The distillers of
Paris pay for them as high as twelve francs the kilogramme.* But the
flower-gardeners obtain still higher prices when they sell them for bridal-
/ wreaths ; for the Orange-flower is the peculiar emblem of maidenhood.
But the bridal-crown is not always a product of the garden. The makers
of artificial flowers have learned to imitate most exactly the Orange-bloom
—and now many of the wreaths worn by young brides, come from the
workshops of the Rue Saint Denis, in Paris. Certainly these young brides

* The kilogramme if nearly two pounds and a quarter avoirdupois.

LADIES9 HORTICULTURE. 129

are none the less pure for that— and yet, if the deception contain no evil
omen, it is at least not in good taste.

0RNITH06ALUM. Tin Stab of Bbthlkdmi.

A bulbous plant, which in June is adorned with white, star-like flowers.
There are many kinds, varying in color : some of them are fragrant. The
same treatment suits them all. Propagated from the offsets, which should
be detached once in two years. These offsets should be cleaned, and
spread in some dry, shady place, to be replanted in October. This is one
of the flowers of which collections are made. Of the Ornithogalums, some
are indigenous, and others exotic

OROBUS. Brrrm-vrrOH.

One of the earliest as well as prettiest of spring-flowers* There are yel-
low and red varieties. Its flowering-time is March. It is a perennial,
with fibrous roots, and asks but little care. Raised from the seed, or from
slips*

oxaLis.

A greenhouse plant, blowing in February. There are several varieties
^-of these the Goat's-foot Oxalis is fragrant. The flowers of this sort are
of a beautiful yellow — those of the other kinds are a delicate pink, or white
with red rays. They should have frequent but not copious waterings.
The offsets are detached in June and replanted in September.

PACHYSANDRA.

A perennial plant, with a delicate pink flower, which appears in May.

A soil improved by leaf-mould. Propagation from slips.

17

130 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

PANCRATIUM.

We have two sorts : the Maritime Pancratium, and the IHyrian Pancra-
tium. They are handsome bulbous plants, with large white, fragrant
flowers, expanding in July. The offsets should be detached in September,
and replanted a month afterwards.

PANSY.

This is a variety of the Violet, and the only one which loves the full
sunshine, in which it proudly displays its dress of yellow and of violet
We must, however, pardon this slight ostentation, inasmuch as it does not,
like its modest sister, possess a sweet perfume to betray the place of its re-
treat. A good soil and moderate watering. Raised from the seed.

PASSION-FLOWER.

A shrub with a stem from twenty to thirty feet long. In August it has
blue flowers of a singular shape, in which, by the aid of the imagination,
some have been able to see all the instruments of the Saviour's passion ; as
the crown of thorns, the spear, the nails, the hammer, the ladder, &c. Fine
arbors may be made of this plant. Raised from layers or from slips.

PEONY.

We have two kinds of this plant : the common Peony, and the Tree
Peony. The former is a perennial, with white, red, and pink varieties of
large and handsome flowers. It delights in a rich soil, requires but little
attention, and is propagated by slips from the roots, taken in October.

The Tree Peony is a fine shrub, sometimes six or seven feet high. Its
large pink flowers, for a whole month or more, preserve their beauty and
fragrance. The culture of this plant requires considerable care. At first
it should be kept in a pot or box, so that it can be sheltered from the frosts.
During the winter it should have a strong light. It may be raised from
seeds, or by layers, which take readily, but which should not be sundered
from the mother plant before the second year.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 131

PEPPERS.

These annuals are cultivated, not for their blossoms, but for their fruits,
which in August are as large as a hen's egg — producing, by their brilliant
and beautiful red, a fine effect among the flowers. The fruit may also be
used in cooking. It has the taste and properties of pepper, and is even more
pungent. They should be sown in spring, and they are easily raised.

PERIWINKLE

If this plant be dear to Frenchmen, it is not the fault of Voltaire, as said
Beranger some thirty years ago. We must however confess that it is, in
some sense, the fault of Rousseau. The Periwinkle was, in fact, this philoso-
pher's favorite flower — a predilection due to certain associations which it
had with the happy days of his youth. It has since been made the symbol
of one's first love. In reality, it is a very modest little flower, and per-
fectly harmless. There are two sorts in cultivation : the Larger Periwin-
kle, whose sky-blue flower appears in May, and the Smaller Periwinkle,
which is red. Raised from shoots or from, seeds.

PHALAN6IUM.

A beautiful plant, with white or pink flowers, borne upon a spike. Sev-
eral sorts are raised, and the flowers in some cases resemble the Lily on a
small scale. In fact, one sort is called the Lily of St. Bruno. A rich soil,
mingled with leaf-mould and muck. Water often. Raised from seeds.

PHLOMIS.

An annual. It blooms in August. Its flowers of violet red are not re-
markable ; but they add to the number and to the variety of objects in the
parterre. Bulbous plants. The offsets should be detached in April, and
immediately replanted.

PHLOX.

A very fine perennial, which grows to the height of four or five feet.
There are pink, blue, lilac, and white varieties of its charming flowers. It

132 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

is in blow from July to September, and deserves to rank among the finest
ornaments of the parterre. Give it good soil and plenty of water. Multi-
plied by shoots from the roots.

PINK.

This well-known flower is too great and general a favorite to need our
praise. A large number of species are enumerated, and each of these has
its varieties. Some amateurs have made beautiful collections of them. All
the Pinks are easily propagated by layers. Varieties can be had only by
planting the seeds.

Like the Lily and the Violet, the Pink has played no unimportant part
in our civil factions. For instance, in 1815, soon after the accomplishment
of the second Restoration, the Red Pink became a symbol of recognition
among the partisans of Napoleon. By way of opposition, the royalists,
and especially the pages and the body-guard, adopted the White Pink.
Dreadful encounters sometimes took place between the two parties. We
will narrate one of these, which created, at the time, a very intense ex*
citement.

Jules de Saint P. was a page of Louis XVIII., and his aunt, the Countess
of C, was lady of honor in the family of the Duchess of Angoul&ne.

One day in the month of August, the young page made a call upon his
aunt pit the residence of the Duchess.

" Ah ! how is this, chevalier ?" exclaimed Madame de C, " you have no
Pink $t yoijr buttonhole J Are you then afraid of the Bonapartists ?"

She had hardly said the words when the Puchess entered : she had

■

heard the taunt with which Madame de C. had spoken to her nephew, and
perceiving the blush upon his face, she took from one of the elegant Sevres
vases that adorned the mantle, a White Pink, and said with a smile, as she
handed it to Jules ;

" Your aunt is unjust. We know very well that in your family there are
none but loyal Frenchmen; and that the Saint P.s $re persons without
fear and without reproach."

The page bowed respectfully as he took the flower.

" Thanks, madam," said he in a voice full of feeling ; " your royal high-
ness may rest assured that I shall use my best efforts to deserve the good
opinion which you have been pleased to express."

An hour afterwards the young man in his citizen's dress was upon the
Italian Boulevard, accompanied by several of his friends. He wore the

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 133

White Pink in his buttonhole, and carried a sword-cane. They soon found
themselves face to face before a group of half-pay officers, wearing the
Red Pink.

" Be careful, gentlemen," said one of the latter, " you wear a color there
which is easily soiled."

" And it is for that reason that persons of your description take good care
not to wear it," promptly replied the chevalier.

From sarcasms to threats the transition was quick. A few words only
had passed, ere swords were drawn. Jules attacked the officer who had
first spoken to them, and unfortunately for the page, he was the best
swordsman of the group. This man was perfectly cool, had an eagle eye,
and a wrist like iron. But the young page was too much excited to per-
ceive his inferiority ; and even had he done so, he would not have given
back a single inch. As this took place in open daylight, a large crowd
soon gathered round the combatants. Suddenly a cry was heard — " Here
come the gens d'armes !"

In fact, the government had taken measures to put an end to these fights,
and a patrol now came up to separate the combatants.

" Still we must not part thus," said the chevalier's antagonist. " Here's
for your Pink, Monsieur le Chevalier !"

The pass was made with lightning quickness. Jules, wounded in his vi-
tal organs, immediately fell. The gens d'armes were now upon them, and
the officers withdrew. The young chevalier was raised up by his friends,
more fortunate than himself, and conveyed home in a carriage. Just as he
was alighting, a calash drove by. A single lady occupied it — the Countess
of C, who, without observing the pale face of the youth, or the friends sup-
porting him, exclaimed indignantly :

" What ! a Red Pink ! The wretch has disgraced us !"

Jules, who still retained his senses, turned his eyes to the flower in his
buttonhole, and with his dying breath replied :

" Yes, madam, red, but pure still, for it is my blood that has dyed it."

The calash was stopped, and the countess rushed to the side of her un-
fortunate nephew. .

" My God !" said she, half distracted, " it is I who have killed him !"

And truly did she say so — for the wound was mortal. The young page
died that evening, after requesting that they would place with him, in his
tomb, the Pink, that fatal present from a royal hand.

134 THE FLOWEfcS PERSONIFIED.

PODALYRIA.

A perennial plant with fibrous roots. Its flowers of beautiful blue come
out in June. They are inodorous, and of little interest, beyond that of in-
creasing the variety.

PODOPHYLLUM. DuckVpoot.

White buckler-shaped flowers, which come in May. From shoots, or
from seeds sown in March.

POLEMONIUM. Greek Valeria*.

Clustering flowers, red, shaded with blue. Raised from seeds, or by
dividing the roots.

POMEGRANATE.

Flowers of a beautiful red. It is kept in boxes, like the Orange. Green-
house from October to April. Propagated by layers. There are several
kinds, but the treatment should be the same.

POPPY.

A charming June flower. Its seed-vessels contain narcotic juices, which
are powerful, and even dangerous. Several kinds are cultivated, of which
the most brilliant is the Oriental Poppy, whose bright red flowers grow
very large. In our botanical treatise we have already alluded to this
species, as the source of opium, that potent and costly drug, which produces
effects so singular or so dreadful, accordingly as it is taken in small or large
doses. Taken in moderate doses, opium exalts to a higher degree all the
intellectual powers. Under the influence of this substance, one lives, as it
were, in a new world, full of wonders, such as, in his natural state, he could
never imagine. The man of imperfect utterance becomes eloquent, and
the most illiterate a poet ; some speak in languages which they have never
learned, which they know by intuition, while under the narcotic influence,
and forget entirely when that influence is gone. A dreadful reaction suc-
ceeds : the eyes grow dim ; a livid paleness overspreads the countenance ;
and the faculties become weak in proportion as the previous excitement

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 136

was great. The wretched opium-eater or smoker sinks at length into a
state of idiotic stupor, which continues until he is again roused by the in-
toxicating qualities of his favorite drug. The best constitution cannot long
resist these alternations of excitement and depression. The victim grows
prematurely old — his hair turns gray — his hands tremble — and he becomes
decrepit while yet in the prime of life.

All this, I assure you, exists in a single flower ; and I am acquainted with
others which are even more formidable. But we are treating of the Poppy,
which is an annual plant, raised from seed sown in March. It needs a
good soil and frequent watering.

PRIMROSE

This is another of the flowers of which amateurs form collections, there
being many kinds. There are about four hundred different sorts, pre-
senting every imaginable variety of hue and shade. They bloom in April.
This plant is readily multiplied by division, but the varieties, as in other
cases, must be obtained from seeds. They should be sown early in March.

PSORALEA.

A plant with fibrous roots. Its flowers are small, of reddish violet, and
are borne on spikes. It should have a light soil and moderate watering.

PULMONARIA.

There are two kinds in cultivation. The Virginian Pulmonaria is peren-
nial, while the Siberian Pulmonaria is an annual. They bear small flowers,
which come out in March. Those of the kind first named are red, blue, or
white. The other sort has only blue flowers, which are very bright.

To multiply the former, divide its roots in October. The Siberian va-
riety is raised from seed.

PYROLA.

Flowers of a delicate pink color, placed in pairs on every peduncle.
Of the two sorts in cultivation, one is fragrant. Mix leaf-mould with the
soil, and water often. Propagate by dividing the roots.

136 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

R

RANUNCULUS.

One of the most beautiful of flowers. The flower-collectors reckon al-
ready nearly six hundred varieties of this flower, embracing every possible
variety and tint of color except blue. It is now a good many years since
Tulips were regularly quoted on the Amsterdam Exchange, and were sold
at prices that now seem incredible. And yet it is unquestionable that the
gardener who should be so fortunate as to raise a blue Ranunculus, would
thereby secure a rapid and brilliant fortune. Nor would such success be
without precedent. Did we not see, several years since, the seed of a par-
ticular sort of Cabbage sold in the Rue Richelieu for five francs apiece ?
Yes, five francs were paid for a single seed — so that the produce of one
Cabbage-plant brought fifty or sixty thousand francs. The owner of the
seeds, a common laborer, sold half a million of them within six months.
But this astonishing success turned the poor fellow's head. He became
crazy and blew his own brains out.

No blue Ranunculus has yet been seen ; but it is possible that one may
be produced — and this is the fond hope of all those amateurs who devote
themselves exclusively to the cultivation of this flower. The plant is easily
raised. The seed, which is gathered in October, should be kept dry for a
year or more before it is sown. Plant it in good soil in the autumnal
months, and cover the ground with a thin layer of muck, and water it often.
This is the way to get new varieties. If the object be to continue and
multiply those which already exist, it must be effected by means of the
offsets. These plants blow in June : when their leaves fade, lift the bulbs,
dry them in the shade, and lay them by, with proper labels, for replanting
the following year.

RHEXIA.

A native of Virginia. Its large flowers of bright red expand in June.
It needs considerable water. Raised from seeds sown in early spring.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 137

RHODODENDRON. Rosb-tbbe.

A beautiful little American tree. Its flowers, shaped like a horn opening
widely, are white, or pink, or red. The soil should be a mixture of peat,
loam, and leaf-mould. Watering, copious. Raised from layers. Of the
many sorts, the Rhododendron Arboreum is perhaps the finest. This, how-
ever, is of East Indian origin.

ROSB.

Alas ! tarde venientibus : your pardon, ladies,— the meaning is simply
that the absent always suffer, or at least, that those who come last must be
content with what they can get. So in regard to the Rose, of which we
come thus late to speak. We are well aware that you have heard all about
the Rose. Its history has been told to you ; its properties and defects, its
habits and its loves have all been recounted in your hearing. You have
been initiated into all its secrets, all its metamorphoses. You have seen it
now a flower — now a woman — now a queen. But no harvest is so thor-
oughly gathered that the poor cannot glean something upon the field which
bore it. To glean a little is all that we shall attempt.

It is ascertained that there are, at the present time, a little over two
thousand varieties of the Rose. We have heard a learned horticulturist
affirm, that four large folio volumes of fine print would be insufficient to
contain all that is curious and useful in regard to the culture of this one
plant. But we must confess that we have our doubts in regard to these
things so wonderfully strange and curious, — things which the eyes of ama-
teurs alone are sufficiently keen to discover. But the two thousand and
odd species do actually exist. Trtiis is a fact which we have ourselves ver-
ified— and happy are we, in this case, to be able to verify something.

As we have introduced this matter, we might go on, ladies, and give
you a complete list of all these varieties. But what would it avail ? You
would only turn over the leaves so much the faster.

We shall rest content with informing you that the botanists and the
gardeners, who agree sometimes, have divided Roses into ten classes, as
follows :

The Single-leaf Rose ;
The Wild Rose ;
The Rose with bracts i
IS

138 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

The Cinnamon Rose ;
The Pimpernel Rose ;
The Hundred-leafed Rose ;
The Downy Rose ;
The Rusty Rose ;
The Dog Rose ;
The Banks Rose.

The Rose is unquestionably the most admirable product of vegetation,
and consequently, it is essential to every flower-garden, however small.
The cultivation of the Rose is simple and easy. Roses generally require
a light but rich soil. They are raised from seeds, shoots, cuttings, and
layers. They are easily grafted, and yield readily to all the caprices of
the gardener. The finest Roses bloom in June ; but the Rose is a flower
for every season, and it is not uncommon to see the Bengal Rose expand-
ing beneath flakes of snow.

ROSEMARY.

A pretty little tree, four or five feet high, and forming usually a thick
bush. Its pale blue flowers come out in February, in the season of balls,
and at the time when the ground is covered with ice and snow. Once,
any flower at this season of the year was regarded as a wonder. But now,
when the winter-gardens of Paris contain flowers in January, as numerous
and as splendid as those which adorn the finest parterre in June, the Rose-
mary is held in small account. So pass the glories of the world !

Every part of the Rosemary is aromatic. It thrives in a soil rather light
and dry, and is propagated by layers and by slips.

RUDBECEIA.

Large red flowers, which come in July. This plant with fibrous roots,
requires but little care. It should have a good soil and moderate watering.
Sow the seed in April.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 139

S

SAFFRON.

A bulbous plant, with flowers which are yellow, white, or gray, or blue,
as the variety may happen to be. The ofisets should be detached once in
three or four years, in the month of June, and replanted in July, with a
space of three or four inches between the separate plants.

SAGE.

We have several sorts, and the plant is in flower from July to October.
The color is pink, or blue, or a fine red, according to the variety. A good
rich soil is best for them. Give them but little water, and protect them in
winter. Raised from seeds sown in October, or from slips in April.

SANGUINARIA. Blood-hoot.

This plant is a native of Canada. From its prostrate root-stalk full of
red, acrid juice, it sends up in spring a single heart-shaped, red- veined leaf,
and a one-flowered, naked scape. The flower is white. Propagated by
dividing the roots in autumn.

SANSEVIERA.

A handsome plant with numerous pink flowers on spikes, very fragrant.
There are two sorts. They are raised from seeds sown in early spring, or
from shoots.

SAXIFRAGE.

A beautiful plant, of which there are several sorts, which in May are
covered with flowers of red, or white, or pink. They are cultivated in
pots, as they require to be protected during winter. Divide the roots in
April.

140 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

SCABIOUS

Pretty velvet-like flowers of a deep red, and of an agreeable odor.
They should be planted in a light soil. They are raised from seed sown
in April. Several kinds are cultivated, some of which are perennial, as
the Alpine Scabious and the Cretan Scabious.

SEDUM. Stowecro*.

Pretty June flowers, red or pink, with a distinct rose-like smell. This
odor proceeds, in some varieties, from the flower, and in others, from the
root. They require a vegetable mould, little or no water, and a southern
exposure.

SEMPERVIVUM, Tub Housblbbe.

A thick-leafed plant, with handsome flowers of red or yellow. It should
have a light soil and very little water. Raised from cuttings planted soon
after they are taken off.

SENECIO. Grounmbl.

The African Senecio has very beautiful red flowers, which are single or
double, according to the variety. The single is raised from seeds, the
other from cuttings. The other kind is the Adonis-leafed Senecio: its
flowers are of a fine yellow, and it is propagated by division of the root.

SENSITIVE PLANT.

This plant, so generally known, is remarkable only for its singular move-
ments. During the night the leaves are folded upon each other close to the
stems. In the daytime they expand, as though they had just issued from a
profound slumber.

The Sensitive Plant thus shows very fully the need of sunlight, which,
of all organized beings, plants seem to experience in the highest degree.
Its foliage has a movement corresponding with that of the sun ; and a care-
ful observer may trace this change, as from hour to hour it is manifested
by the position of the leaves. But the Sensitive Plant has a folding move-

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 141

ment which is still more singular. Whenever a leaf shuts up, whether
from contact with some other body, or from the absence of light, its foot-
stalk approximates the branch, making with it a sharper angle than it did
before. When the touch is a hard one, every part of the plant shows its
influence by the closing of the leaves. Yet the different branches and
leaves are not necessarily connected, for a single part may be so lightly
touched as to affect only that. The time occupied by the leaves in re-
suming their natural position, varies with the health of the plant, the time
of day, and the season of the year.

As yet, no one has furnished a satisfactory explanation of this phenom-
enon, which is still a mystery, as well as some other things thus alluded to
by Voltaire :

Speak, Reaumur, since in clearest light to thee,

Nature unfolds her webs of mystery :

Hart thou e'er broke her sacred signet-seal?

Can e'en thy matchless skill the cause reveal—

The cause within, the secret power below,

That bids the leaf expand, the floweret blow 1

Why does the envenom'd asp, from age to age,

Still wreak on man his unrelenting rage ?

With thirst and fury that forever burn

Why does the tiger all caresses spurn ;

While mildest traits the canine race display,

And man can boast no faster friend than Tray ?

Why does the worm at his appointed hour,

Quit the snug covert of his leafy bower,

Weave his own winding-sheet, and wrapped around,

Self-buried lie for months beneath the ground, —

With resurrection strange again to rise,

A winged insect, deck'd in heaven's own dyes 1

No one has yet answered these questions, but possibly they may be
answered at some future day. Meanwhile we have only to add, that the
Sensitive Plant is an indispensable ornament of the flower-garden. It must
be kept in the greenhouse during cold weather. It is propagated by
means of slips or of layers.

SEFTAS.

A plant with tuberous roots, originally from America. Red flowers in
umbels, white within. Loam and peat-soil. Propagation by division of
the roots.

142 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

SILENE. Catchflt.

The property of entrapping flies, which this plant possesses, is all that
makes it particularly remarkable. There are red and white varieties of
the flower, which blooms in June. It is an annual plant, and is raised from
seed. The species are inodorous, with a single exception — a perennial
flower of brilliant red, which should be kept in pots.

SILPHIUM.

This plant is a robust perennial, with a flower resembling the Sunflower.
The stem attains sometimes a height of twenty feet. Multiplied by divi-
ding the roots, or more certainly from the seed.

SNAPDRAGON.

A plant with fibrous roots. Its muzzle-shaped flowers are either red or
white. Let it have a good soil and moderate watering. It is easily raised
from seeds in Maroh, or by dividing the roots in autumn.

SNOWBALL.

Quite a handsome little tree, very common in ornamental gardens. It
bears in May round bunches of flowers of snowy whiteness. It is easily
raised from cuttings.

SNOWDROP.

A pretty little white flower, which is the first to penetrate the icy mantle
by which the ground is covered usually in the month of February. At
the feast of life this poor little thing can be present only a moment. Pen-
sively inclining towards the earth, she seems to regret the obscurity from
which she came only to announce the renovation of nature. It is propa-
gated from offsets, which should be detached from the bulbs every two or
three years.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 143

SOLDANELLA.

A pretty little perennial Alpine plant. It blooms in March. Its flowers,
which are either white or red, have a very agreeable effect, although they
are so diminutive. And how natural it is that we should regard with par-
tiality these humble little flowers, which open with the first rays of the ge-
nial spring sun, and are the first that come to cheer our eyes, and remind
us that nature is about to revive in vernal bloom and beauty ! All this
they do at the risk of being destroyed by the terrible north wind which is
so often experienced at this season of the year.

Take compassion, ladies, on these little adventurers. Give them a light
soil, enriched with muck. Let them have a southern exposure, that they
may feel the sun. Collect the seed in April or May, and sow it in October,
in pots, for better protection in winter. They may also be propagated
by dividing the roots.

SOLOMON'S SEAL

A plant with fibrous roots and drooping blue flowers. There are many
kinds, but they may all be served alike. Let them have a good soil and
frequent watering. They should be propagated by dividing the roots in
autumn, or by sowing the seeds early in March.

SOWERBiBA.

A handsome plant, the stem of which resembles a rush, and whose
flowers, in umbels, are of a beautiful purple. It should be kept in pots, as
it needs protection in the winter.

SPANISH BEAN.

We have two sorts : one has handsome red flowers without odor ; the
other has fragrant flowers, considerably larger. They should be planted
in a light soil, early in the spring. The large-flowered species may be
raised from layers and cuttings. It is a perennial, and should be in pots,
-which may be taken in before the weather becomes severe.

144 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

8PARAX1&

Two sorts, the violet and the yellow. The flowers appear in April, and
are large and handsome. The offsets should be detached in July, and re-
planted in October. They must be protected during the winter.

SPIGELIA. Wouf-ouuM.

Its flowers are on spikes, of a beautiful red without, and yellow within.
The* plant needs much attention. Give it a soil mingled with vegetable
mould, and water it often, but not copiously. Raised from seeds.

SPIRJSA.

Flowers in umbels, single or double, white or pink, fragrant or inodorous,
as the species may be. Raised from seeds or tubers, or by division of the
roots.

SQUILL.

There are several kinds, differing materially in form. The flowers are
generally blue, but grow, some of them on spikes, some in clusters, and
others in umbels. Most of them are without odor. A few resemble the
Hawthorn in fragrance. The offsets should be detached every other year.

ST. JOHNSWORT,

A perennial, whose large and beautiful yellow* flowers are in bloom from
April to September. They are plants easily cultivated.

STACHYS. Hedoi-nkttlk.

This pretty plant has red flowers upon a spike. They should have a
light but good soil, and only a little water. Divide the roots in autumn.
It should be sheltered when the frosts come, but not deprived of light.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 145

STATICE. Thebtt,

' A valuable plant for borders. It flowers from May to July. It is peren-
nial and evergreen. Its roots should be lifted every other year, and planted
more deeply*

STEVIA.

A handsome Mexican plant, producing white, pink, and violet flowers.
A loam and peat-soil is suitable ; and they should have frequent waterings.
Raised from seed sown in the hotbed.

STOCK GILLItfLOWER.

This beautiful plant, with its varieties of white, yellow, red, and violet
flowers, is familiar to all. It requires protection during the winter. In
early spring it should be planted out in a light, rich soil, and well watered.
It will bloom during all the summer months.

The Wall-flower is a variety of the Mathiola. It needs no particular
care. A crevice in some old ruined wall — a few particles of dust — a drop
of water — the sunshine and the dews of heaven, — these are all which the
Wall-flower wants to give it beauty and fragrance. This friend and con-
soler of the prisoner and the poor would find itself unhappy in the flower-
gardens of the great.

STRAMONIUM.

We have two sorts in cultivation. The Stramonium Corneum is a
handsome annual, with large white flowers, which are very fragrant. It
should have a light soil and a plenty of water. It is raised from seed.
The Stramonium Arboreum is a small tree, bearing in August large white
flowers of a very agreeable odor. This tree requires considerable atten-
tion. It should have a light soil and but little water. It should be pro-
tected in cold weather — should have an abundance of light, and frequent
change of air.

146 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

SUNFLOWER.

A large annual plant, with yellow ray-like flowers, which begin to bloom
in August. The flowers are very large, and the stem is sometimes fifteen
feet high. Like most other plants, but in a manner more decided and evi-
dent, this flower seems to follow the sun in his track, by constantly turning
so as to receive his rays.

There are few plants more majestic than the Sunflower, and yet it is
despised, and very often excluded from the parterre, which admits many
others far inferior in splendor and dignity. How happens this ? Is it that
the Sunflower is without fragrance ? But the Tulip and the Dahlia are no
less favorites because they are inodorous ; and furthermore, the Tulip and
the Dahlia require attentions with which the Sunflower dispenses. " But
it is a vulgar plant," says one. And why vulgar ? Dare you, on account
of the ease with which it is raised and grows, commit such an offence
against this vast corolla, called Sunflower ? Certainly, for a beauty, she is
content with very little, — a corner of the court-yard, where the paving is
displaced, will answer the purpose. Drop a seed there in April, and you
need do no more. Very well : there she is, handsome and good too, as it
seems to us ; and these are qualities which, alas ! are not often united.

It is for these reasons, ladies, that we entreat your indulgence for this
handsome flower. You shall set apart for it a spot three or four times as
large as your hand ; you shall water it or not, as you please ; and in autumn
you shall gather the seeds, large, abundant, delicious, by means of which
you can make excellent orgeat for your soirees*

SWEET-PEA.

This is one of those handsome, fragrant, modest flowers, which lavish
their favors on any one who will give them a little patch of ground, a little
water, and a little sunshine. Nothing can be prettier than their velvet-like
flowers of blue, and white, and pink, and red, which remind you of the
butterfly's wings, and which shed around their delicious perfume. And yet
this delightful flower is very generally held in contempt ; and the reason is,
that unfortunately — I would rather say, fortunately — it costs nothing, and
is therefore adopted by the poor and humble. With the Nasturtium and
the Cobaea, it is often seen in attic windows, and there are few cottages
whose walls do not afford it protection.

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 147

It is lair and good — and to the fair and good we commend it. Raised
from seed sown in early spring.

SYRINGA.

A beautiful little tree with white flowers of a very pleasant odor, when
in the open air, but which produce unpleasant effects in a confined apart-
ment. They may be raised from layers, cuttings, suckers, or by division
of the root This tree is suitable only for gardens of considerable size.

T

TA6ETES.

Large and handsome flowers, with varieties of yellow and white, of sin-
gle and double. It is a common flower, but produces a good effect, when
accompanied by others. It should have a light soil and frequent watering.
Multiplied from seeds which are sown in April, — the plants to be pricked
out in May or June.

THLASPI.

A greenhouse plant with white flowers, that bloom in January. They
should have a vegetable mould, and very little water.

THYME.

•

A common plant with little red flowers, that come in June, and which,
in common with the whole plant, have a highly aromatic and pleasant odor.
It is much used for borders, in consequenee of the little attention which it
needs. Good as well as handsome, this little plant is perfectly satisfied
with the place assigned it ; and in spite of wind and storm, of winter's ice
and summer's heat, it never fails to show its small green sprigs, or to spread
around its fragrance. Unfortunately the artists of the cuisine have for
ages had possession of this aromatic plant, and this alone has made it con-

148 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

temptible to the amateurs in flowers. This is a crying injustice* agaibst
which we protest with all our might. Why should any thing cease to com-
mand our love merely because it is useful ? We ask for Thyme a com-
plete restoration. It is multiplied by division of the roots.

THYMEUEA.

An Alpine plant with pink flowers, blooming in January. This indeed
is its principal merit. The little tree which bears them rarely exceeds a
yard in height. The watering should be frequent but not copious. It is
raised from seed,

TIGRIDIA. Tioml-flowwu

A bulbous plant, having flowers of violet, yellow, or red, exceedingly
beautiful. A light, good soil. Detach the offsets once in two or three
years.

TOBACCO.

We are not so unjust as to refuse to acknowledge that the Tobacco-
plant is perfectly innocent in its appearance ; that it is raised from seeds
sown in the spring ; and that its flowers, which come out in September,
have an odor somewhat like that of the jessamine. But what do these
slight virtues of Tobacco weigh against the dreadful calamities which it
has scattered over the globe ? As we have already said, the use of To-
bacco is a horrible contagion, which spreads perpetually, and which is a
thousand times more fatal than any invasion of barbarians. It is a poison
which pollutes the very air we breathe, which stupifies the faculties, and
which destroys the imagination. There is not a crime or deed of horror
which Tobacco has not done, or caused to be done. It has broken every
social tie ; it has depraved the tastes of men and made them brutish. It
was Tobacco that so often made the great Frederic cruel ; and it was with
its help that the English jailers killed Napoleon. Thanks to Tobacco—^
under its use the finest teeth decay — the sweetest breath becomes offen-
sive— the nostrils puff out — the eye grows dim, and the voice husky. It
injures the appetite, blunts desire, and stifles thought. And yet there have
been poets who have sung the praises of this nauseous stuff!

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 149

For pity's sake, ladies, have nothing to do with Tobacco, even as a
flower. We cannot be too much on our guard against its pernicious in-
fluences.

TRACHELIUM.

An August flower of beautiful blue. It is small and pretty. The plant
is perennial, and does not bear the cold. A soil mingled With leaf-mould,
and scanty watering. If raised from seeds, they should be sown in the
hotbed about the last of September. Cuttings will answer the same
purpose.

TRILLIUM.

A fibrous-rooted plant which flowers in April. The flowers are of deep
red. Division of the roots may be made in autumn, or the seed may be
sown in June.

TROLLIUS.

Beautiful blue flowers, which come out in April. Let it have a light
soil, and water it seldom. Plant its seeds in March, or divide its roots in
autumn.

TUBEROSE.

A bulbous plant, having beautiful white flowers upon a spike. It is very
fragrant. It requires a good soil, with frequent and abundant waterings.
Raised from seed.

TULIP. ^

There are amateurs still, who, as we have already remarked, carry their
passion for this beautiful flower to the verge of extravagance.

The bulbs should be planted in October, in a loamy soil, well enriched
with old manure, and properly prepared. The holes for the bulbs should
be about four inches deep, and about six or seven inches apart. In April

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150

THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

the flowers appear. It is desirable to protect them from the full blaze of
the sun. When the flower has faded, the bulbs should be taken from the
ground, cleaned, and kept dry until the time for replanting comes again.

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VALERIAN.

A Pyrenaean plant, with fibrous roots, having varieties of red, white, and
violet flowers. Multiplied by dividing the roots.

VELTHEMIA.

A fine greenhouse plant, with clustered flowers of red and yellow, which
produce a fine effect Detach the offsets every other year.

VERATRUM.

This is quite a pretty plant. There are in cultivation, black, white,
green, and yellow sorts. They should be in good soil and have frequent
waterings.

VERONICA.

Blue, and white, and delicate pink flowers, which are out in August. A
light soil and a plenty of water for them. Propagated by dividing the
roots, or from the seed.

VIEUSSEUXIA.

A plant with bulbs. Its white flowers, spotted with blue and edged with
black, expand in May.

i

LADIES' HORTICULTURE. 151

VILLAItSIA.

A handsome yellow June flower. Plant it in furze-earth made rich by
manure, and give it an abundance of water.

VIOLET.

This charming flower, need we say, is the emblem of modest merit. It
is found almost everywhere— on the edge of the thicket — on the bank of
the ditch— or at the foot of the hedge. It grows without culture or care,
and manifests its presence only by its perfume. It will flourish in any soil,
and is propagated by seed or by roots.

YUCCA.

A little tree about three feet high, covered with a dense foliage, from the
midst of which there rises, in the month of August, a shaft which bears a
great number of beautiful large white flowers. Plant in a soil mixed with
vegetable mould, and water only occasionally. Raised from cuttings or
from suckers.

ZINNIA.

Beautiful yellow and red flowers, which bloom in October. It is an an-
nual, and is raised from the seed, which should be sown in the spring, in a
light soil, and covered with a little manure.

152 THE FLOWERS PERSONIFIED.

There, ladies, so much for theory. But the theory in this case is not the
best part of the matter. It is in the practice that you are to look for agree-
able surprises, for unexpected discoveries, and unanticipated results. One
cannot see flowers without loving them. But this attachment grows into
greater strength when we begin to cultivate them. Indeed it often becomes
a genuine passion ; but it is a passion ever chaste and pure, which induces
no regrets, and leads to no remorse ; a passion which we need not hesitate
to avow, for it dwells.only in souls refined.

THE END.

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