"They tremble on the Alpine height,
The fissur'd rock they press,
The desert wild with heat and sand
Shares too, their blessedness;
And wheresoe'er the weary heart
Turns in its dim despair,
The meek eyed blossom upward looks
Inviting it to prayer."
Thus it is, my dear friends, that we present you, not a Bouquett, which, however tasteful, and however beautiful, might still confuse you with its many significations; we present you not a Gem, to remind you of the brilliancy of mind, that may yet be unsympathizing, and bewildering, but a simple flower, one, from a paradise of freshness and beauty.