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CHAPTER VIII.

WILD FLOWERS.

"WILD FLOWERS 'seem to me the true philanthropists of their race. Their generous and cheerful faces ever give a kindly greeting to the troops of merry village children who revel in their blossoming wealth; and right welcome are they gladdening the eyes of the poor mechanic, when he breathes the fresh country air on Sunday, and gathers a handful of cowslips or daffodils, or the prouder foxglove, to carry home, and set in the dim window of his pent-up dwelling. So dear and beautiful are WILD FLOWERS, that one would think every one must love them." MISS TWAMLEY.

Aye, must love them indeed, Lady! well might BURNS pause with his plough, to lament over the daisy which he had destroyed; well might WORDSWORTH pen, I know not how many stanzas, to the same simple flower, and to the golden celandine; and well might another child of song exclaim :

"Oh! I'll never envy riches, though toilin' at the plough, There's flowers alang the peasant's path, e'en kings might stoop to pu'."-G. W.

The primrose and the violet, the cowslip and the daffodil, and all the sweet dwellers in the green lanes, and the shady woods, and the sunny meadows, have ever been the especial favourites, not only of those, who

being denied access to the conservatory and the parterre, are not brought into contact with the more richly tinted and gorgeous productions of foreign climes, but also of the whole race of poets, many of whom are surrounded with these splendid exotics, in their dwellings, and every day walks; and most, or all of whom, enjoy frequent opportunities of observing and admiring them; and yet for poems in praise of the geranium and the cactus, we might search in vain; while for those which celebrate the "wildings of nature," have we not enough to fill volumes? Aye! volumes fraught with beauty and fragrance, of which this is but a foretaste and a specimen.

"Not only with vine leaves and ears of corn

Is nature dress'd, but 'neath the feet of man,

As at a sovereign's feet, she scatters flowers,

And sweet and useless plants, which, born to please,
Disdain to serve."-MADAME DE STAEL.

We have italicised two words in this quotation, because we do not like them. It is our creed and belief that nothing which God has created is useless; we may not perceive its applicability to any known purpose, but we are not therefore to conclude that it is of no service —that it performs no important function in the great scheme of universal being; our greatest living poet

says ;

"Small service is true service while it lasts,

Of friends, however humble, scorn not one;
The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,

Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun."

We are but too apt to look upon part of the vegetation with which the earth is covered-" clothed as with a

garment of beauty"—as worthless and contemptible, especially when there are no blossoms, which with their tint or perfume, afford gratification to the senses; and to pass by "common weeds" as vile things, not simply useless, but mischievous:

"Scorn not those rude, unlovely things,

All cultureless that grow,

And rank o'er woods, and wilds, and springs,
Their vain luxuriance throw.

"Eternal love and wisdom drew

The plan of earth and skies;

And He the span of heaven that threw,
Commands the weeds to rise.

"Then think not nature's scheme sublime
These common things might spare ;-
For science may detect in time

A thousand virtues there."-J. F. SMITH.

Daily more and more are the mysteries of nature unfolded to us; daily more and more are her "Hidden Uses" made manifest. Oh, yes!

"There be flowers making glad the desert, and roots fattening the soil,

And jewels in the secret deep, scattered among groves of coral, And comforts to crown all wishes, and aids unto every need, Influences yet unthought, and virtues and many inventions, And uses above and around, which man hath not yet regarded;

For every green herb, from the lotus to the darnel,
Is rich with delicate aids to help incurious man."

*

M. F. TUPPER.

It is in no irreverent spirit that we venture to quote the command which came to the apostle Peter from heaven,

with a slight alteration, to suit our purpose. "What God has created, that call thou not useless," for nothing is there which may not be made applicable to satisfy our bodily or mental wants; if it contribute not, directly or indirectly, to our sustenance, or comfort, or relief in sickness, yet will it yield moral instruction, or intellectual pleasure, and therefore is it truly serviceable to us. We have quoted in the first portion of this volume, a very beautiful poem, entitled, "The Use of Flowers," the conclusion of which we cannot refrain from giving once more; the author answers the question, why were they created? thus ;

"To whisper hope-to comfort man-
Whene'er his faith is dim,

For whoso careth for the flowers

Will care much more for him."

And this is the moral which may be drawn from the meanest weed, or blade, or leaf, on which we gaze. We have not the original to refer to, but cannot help thinking that useless was not exactly the word to express MADAME DE STAEL'S meaning, as she says directly after, "which, born to please," and this negatives the idea of their being useless, as it implies an end and a purpose, which they are to answer, though not, perhaps, the highest.

And now for the second count in the indictment-the other objectionable word—which is also open to the suspicion of being a mistranslation; that flowers disdain to serve, we strongly deny. Of all the creatures and objects which minister to man's wants, or pleasures, they are the gentlest, the most unresisting; he may crush

them, trample on them, do with them as he will, yet there they are, ever smiling up in his face, yielding him their fragrance, their nutriment, their alleviation for bodily pain, and mental disquietude :

"Oh! tell me not the gentle flowers

Disdain to serve mankind,

To renovate the sinking powers,
To soothe the troubled mind,
When gloomily the welkin lowers,
And fortune is unkind;

'They comfort man in his distress,
They smile when he is gay;
Their fragrance and their loveliness,
They yield him day by day;
For patience and for humbleness,
No servitors like they."-H. G. A.

They are pulled and scattered to the four winds, by the hand of careless childhood, yet ever do they spring up again for his delight and gladness; they are gathered alike by the soft white hand of beauty, and the toilhardened one of industry, unrepining they breathe out their fragrant lives on the bosom of the former, and borne by the latter into the crowded city, they strive to beautify and perfume his hot and murky dwellingplace. Here is a picture of them thus striving :

"A broken flower-pot, with a string secured,
Contained a living treasure-a green clump-
(Just bursting into bloom) of the field orchis.
'You care for flowers,' I said, 'and that fair thing,
The beautiful orchis, seems to flourish well

With little light and air.'

'It won't for long,'

The man made answer, with a mournful smile,