which the individual has moved, or the use made of opportunities, or that inherent strength of the self-taught, which vanquishing obstacles, possesses itself of the fruits, without the usual process of cultivation.
Taste, when drawn into strong sympathy with the beautiful things of nature, cheers the hours of sickness, or decline, and glows even amid the icy atmosphere of death. Combined with a vivid imagination it colors like a passion-tint, the whole of existence, and if surrounding scenes are devoid of its favorite objects, peoples for itself a world of ideal beauty. How touchingly did Mrs. Hemans exclaim, as she drew near the close of life: "I really think the pure passion for flowers, the only one which long sickness leaves untouched with its chilling influence. Often, during this weary illness of mine, have I looked upon new books with perfect apathy, when if a friend has sent me but a few flowers, my heart has leaped up to their dreamy hues and odors, with a sudden sense of renovated childhood, which seems one of the mysteries of our being."
And almost the last tone of her sweet lyre, ere it was crushed by death, perpetuated her love of flowers.
"Welcome, O pure and lovely forms, again
Unto the shadowy stillness of my room!
For not alone ye bring a joyous train
Of summer-thoughts, attendant on your bloom,
Visions of freshness, of rich bowery gloom,
Of the low murmurs, filling mossy dells,
Of stars, that look down on your folded bells,
