The gentle progression and growth of herbs, flowers, and trees-gentle, and yet irrepressible which no force can stay, no violence restrain; like love, that wins its way and cannot be withstood by any human power, because itself is divine power.' The flowers are our teachers. In every one of them there is a lesson-a lesson which, if rightly read, and understood, and felt, would lead us to God. They speak to us amid the toil and care, the excitement and pleasure, the sins and sorrows of life, of the pure and the heavenly.

The earth is one great temple, made

For worship everywhere;

And flowers are the bells, in glen and glade,
That ring the heart to prayer.

All persons are not equally susceptible to their influence. Of many it may be said, as Wordsworth says of Peter Bell

A primrose by the river's brim,

A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more;

while some can say, as the poet says of himself—

To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

Flowers illustrate God's perfections. They speak to us of His infinite wisdom, a wisdom so perfect at first, that the Creator has adhered to His original plan in every subsequent growth, even of the smallest flower. Man, by culture, may produce varieties, but he cannot, in any case, destroy the original plan, or create a new plant. The violet and the heliotrope retain the same fragrance, the daisy and the rose the same structure, the myrtle and the crocus the same leaf, as when first created. The blossom and foliage of the almond tree follow each other in the same order as they did in the days of Solomon. "In closely looking at the small cup or calyx of a flower-a cup so small that even a drop of dew might fill it-we find that the threadlike ribs with which it is marked are, in the calyx of one family of plants, ten in number; and in another only five; and this is in all the individual blooms which have come and gone since Adam first looked on the flowers of Eden."

As the flowers teach us the wisdom of God, so also they teach His power. I have read of a devout man, who, walking one day in his garden, plucked a flower of exquisite loveliness, and, having expressed his admiration of its beauties, took up a clod of earth in his other hand, and exclaimed, "What but Almighty power could extract that from this!" Man, with all his boasted might, cannot make a single blade of grass, or the commonest blossom which adorns the roadside. Month after month, year after year, there is, in the creation of flowers, a perpetual putting forth of that Divine strength which fainteth not neither is weary.

What an illustration flowers afford of God's love of the beautiful! He who

Ere one flowery season fades and dies,
Designs the blooming wonders of the next

must be a God of perfect loveliness. The creature proclaims the Creator, and gives form to His thoughts of beauty.

Not a flower

But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain,
Of His unrivalled pencil. He inspires

Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues,
And bathes their eyes with nectar.

He creates them because He loves them; and, having created them, He takes pleasure in the works of His own hands.

Flowers speak to us of God's benevolence. He creates them for our delight.

He might have made the earth bring forth
Enough for great and small;

The sturdy oak and cedar tree,

Without a flower at all.

Geologists tell us that there are few traces of flowers in the earlier epochs of the earth's history; and that such flowers as there were were small, and probably of the secondary colours-mere vessels for the ripening of the seeds. It was only when the human era approached that the fruit trees with their luxurious burdens, and all our brightest and sweetest flowers, began to appear. God has put within us a love of flowers; that love is universal. With what joy children gambol in the fields and woods, gathering primroses, and cowslips, and wild hyacinths, and buttercups, and daisies! Men and women take pleasure in flowers. In our conservatories bloom the exotics from other climes. With what fond delight the working man regards his cottage garden

Where rich carnations, pinks with purple eyes,
Proud hyacinths, the least some florist's prize,
Tulips tall-stemm'd, and pounc'd auriculas rise.

How those who live in the heart of towns nurse the love of flowers! Hence the geranium or fuchsia struggling for life in a spoutless teapot, and the musk or mignonette in a broken mug. The sick, confined to their rooms, hail flowers; their beauty awakens joy, and their fragrance imparts life. The aged delight in flowers, and as they gaze on them live over again many a joyous scene of childhood and youth. The love of flowers is planted deep in the heart of man, and God displays His benevolence by ministering to the gratification of this passion. Hence flowers grow everywhere, in all quarters of the globe-on continents and islands; within the tropics and in the Arctic regions skirting the eternal snows; in valleys and on mountain tops, and in the open country; in the woods and hedgerows; on the sandy desert and on marshes and swamps; in rich

meadows and on barren rocks and the sea-shore; in old walls of ruined castles and venerable cathedrals; on the cottage roof of the peasant and in kings' palaces; in the gardens of the living and on the graves of the dead. Some are showy, brilliant, flaunting themselves before our eyes; others are modest and coy, to be sought for before they can be found. By the law of compensation which runs throughout the universe some have rich colours but no fragrance, and others exquisite fragrance but no beauty of bloom. They are in all stages-in bud, and maturity, and decay. Here, then, we see God's infinite goodness. He meets our nature's passion and need, meets it everywhere and for all.

Flowers teach God's providential care. may regard them as gracious consolers, sent

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

For He who careth for the flowers
Will much more care for Him.

We

Jesus Christ teaches us to view them in this light. "Consider," He says, "the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?" God cares for the flowers. His warmth quickens them into life, His light paints their beautiful colours, His dews and gentle rain nourish their strength. If He thus cares for them, much more will He care for us. An intelligent creature like man, endowed with a spiritual and immortal nature, is of more value than many flowers. "Take, therefore, no thought for the morrow; for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." Alas! that we should so often impoverish the present by wasting so much thought on the future.

Live for to-day! to-morrow's light
To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight.
Go, sleep like closing flowers at night,
And heaven thy morn shall bless.

Flowers minister to the perfection of our character. This they do in many ways, and by virtue of various associations. How often they awaken memories of the past! We think of the days of childhood, the domestic scenes of youth, the mother's talk in the garden, the father's counsels in the fields. Such memories act as cleansing streams to purify the heart. They constrain to resolutions of amendment, and strengthen new efforts after a better life. What a silent protest flowers make against man's sinfulness! What

a contrast they present to the soil and stain on human society ! With what a charm they seem to allure to the ways of virtue, as, in the

morning sunshine, glistening with dew, they stand in their freshness like angels of God. What ministers of joy they are to sad hearts! How full of gladness they seem themselves! One is inclined to endorse the creed of the greatest modern poet of nature when he says—

And 't is my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

As they lift their heads with refreshed beauty and fragrance after shower and sunshine, they teach us to rejoice in Him who gives the oil of joy for mourning and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.

In their own peculiar way individual flowers fulfil their sacred ministry. The snowdrop, first in early spring, pointing us after the dreary winter to bright days in the future, inspires us with hope. The violet, sending forth its sweet odours from its secret home, teaches us humility. The sunflower, following with open and steadfast gaze the monarch of day, reminds us that we should be ever looking unto Jesus. The honeysuckle and the passion-flower, and the whole race they represent, suggest to us, as they entwine around their strong supports, that we should hold with a deathless grasp to our Divine Friend. Thus he who studies the flowers in devout thought will find that while they minister to his gratification they also promote the growth of his spiritual character. "When

Flowers remind us of our mortality. thou seest a garden in blossom," says a German writer, "it is as if God took a flower in His hand and said, 'This is what thou art, and thy whole life.'" Flowers are frail-they smile to-day in their loveliness, to-morrow they may be dead. A thousand dangers are nigh for their destruction. Should they escape them all, they must die in a few days by the very law of their existence. As you look at them they seem to say, "O son of man! we bloom here to-day; in a few days at most we shall fade and die. So must you. We may be the first to fall, but your fall will soon follow." What is this but the echo of the voice of God through His prophet of old?— "All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field; the grass withereth, the flower fadeth, because the breath of the Lord bloweth upon it; surely the people is grass."

And as the flowers remind us of our mortality, so they foretell our resurrection. We cast them upon the coffin, when we lay our dead in the grave, as symbolic at once of human frailty and immortal life. They speak of decay and death; but they speak also of a triumph over death. Imagine a person who had never seen the effect of spring, whose knowledge of the earth was limited to its appearance in winter, when all nature is in a state of torpidity and death; with what wonder would he gaze on the joyful change

-the

which is now taking place all around usresurrection, as it were, from the grave of all that is now bursting into a new life! The trees, whose branches have been for months leafless, are putting forth their foliage; the fields are growing green and golden with grass and buttercups; the early morn and the late twilight are lengthening the days; the birds are filling the air with the music of their songs; "The flowers appear on the earth." Spring is here, and the universal heart of man rejoices in the change, as an

Emblem of our own great resurrection,
Emblem of the bright and better land.

The present life of the flowers grows out of the past. The roots and seeds have all lived on the earth before. The flowers blossoming from them now are the only new manifestations of a previous life. So will it be with us at the resurrection. The new existence will be a continuation, under other

conditions, of the life we live now. The living seed cast into the soil dies, and out of this death comes life-the life of verdure and beauty we now behold. So with man. "For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.""

Flowers speak to us of heaven. They adorn this sin-stricken and polluted world; but they also point to a better world. Spring has come; but it will not last for ever. There are other changes before us, and if we live long enough we shall see winter -sterile, cold, joyless winter again. The beauty of the flowers is transient-a beauty that will soon fade. The things that are most lovely and pleasant here are passing away; in heaven alone is immortal blessedness. Let us then set our affections on things above, not on things on the earth; and seek that better country

Where everlasting spring abides
And never-withering flowers.

66

up the cliff, and there wasted the greater part of the day in watching Kythe, and indulging the jealous wrath that he nourished against the Harwins.

She had declined a seat in his chaise; she had merely acknowledged him en passant, with a hasty "Good morning!" yet with Rupert Harwin she had chatted for some minutes, while Roland monopolised her for an hour.

With all the selfishness of a love not yet purified from its grosser elements, Noel Raynor begrudged every look and smile she bestowed on others, and was angry with her for not perceiving at a glance how empty-headed these young men were; how

worthless the affection would be that they might tender.

What could they have to offer that could be as worthy her acceptance as the deep fount of love welling up in his own heart? They were mere boys, absorbed in frivolous pursuits of which he had long since discovered the folly. They were neither manly nor truthful, nor even well-looking enough to dazzle her eyes with their outward advantages; what, then, was the spell that made her such a willing listener to them?

Was it their youth? Perhaps he despised them for the very quality that rendered their attentions more acceptable to Kythe than his own. They could laugh with her over a thousand trifles in which he found no pleasure; whilst he, grave, approaching middle age, and accustomed to think every moment wasted that was not devoted to the prose of life, was learning too late that it should have its poetry also; that the beauties and wonders of creation are great gifts that should be enjoyed and appreciated, and not looked upon merely in a monetary view, and valued only if they can be employed in adding to a man's possessions.

Mr. Raynor would have been ashamed to acknowledge, even to himself, that he was lingering at Horley for no better reason than the chance of having Kythe for his companion on the drive homeward. He had but just left his seat, where, in spite of several efforts to draw him into greater sociality, he had persisted in remaining till the bay was deserted, and was on his way to the hotel to have his horse put in harness, when her affrighted cry reached his