MEMOIRS OF THE ROSE. LETTER I. "For THEE the Rose put sweeter purple on." Fenton. MY DEAR ANne, In the long friendship which you and I have cherished towards each other, you have had many opportunities of discovering my partiality for that beautiful flower-THE ROSE: nor has it been without feelings of pleasure, that I have perceived the affection which you also have manifested for this favourite of the Muses. How often while rambling in the fields, or resting in the garden, have we amused ourselves with anecdotes and poetical quotations about this queen of flowers! While the vernal zephyrs seemed to sing to its folded buds: "Rose! Rose! open thy leaves! Spring is whispering love to thee. Near is the nightingale on the tree." I have often had thoughts of collecting my scattered reminiscences on this subject, to form a little olio of sweets, under the title of "Rose Leaves," and which might form a trio with Coleridge's "Sybilline Leaves," and Leigh Hunt's "Foliage." For the present, however, I have resolved to address my little collection to you, as my dearest friend; not doubting but that you will find them interesting, as, though neither brighter nor sweeter for coming from me, yet many of them have a beauty and a fragrance, which circumstances can neither enhance nor diminish. You may therefore expect to receive a letter from me at every convenient opportunity, until my memory and my memorandums are exhausted. I have often recommended to you the science of botany, as an elegant and feminine recreation; indeed the study of flowers seems peculiarly to recommend itself to your sex, as adapted for woman, who is herself represented by our favourite poet, as "A flower of meekness on a stem of grace." "The student in botany," says Sir J. E. Smith, "has a rich source of innocent pleasure. He would find himself neither solitary nor desolate, had he no other companion than a mountain daisy,' that 'modest crimson-tipped flower,' so sweetly sung by one of nature's own poets. The humblest weed or moss will ever afford him something to examine or illustrate, and a great deal to admire. Introduce him to the magnificence of a tropical forest, the enamelled meadows of the Alps, or the wonders of New Holland, and his thoughts will not dwell much upon riches and literary honours. Whether we scrutinize the damp recesses of woods in the wintry months, when the numerous tribes of mosses are displaying their minute but highly interesting structure; whether we walk forth in the early spring, when the ruby tips of the hawthorn bush give the first sign of its approaching vegetation, or a little after when the violet welcomes us with its scent, and the primrose with its beauty; we shall always find something to study and admire in their characters. The yellow blossoms of the morning that fold up their delicate leaves as the day advances, -others that court and sustain the full blaze of noon-and the pale night-scented tribes which expand and diffuse their sweet fragrance towards evening, all have peculiar charms. The more we study the works of the Creator, the more wisdom, beauty, and harmony become manifest, even to our limited apprehensions; and while we admire, it is impossible not to adore." These sentiments, my dear Anne, are interesting as coming from one of considerable eminence and authority on this subject, and I hope you will henceforth be induced to pay a little more attention to the cultivation of this beautiful science. I do not mean that you should puzzle yourself with the difficult and abstruse department of botanical physiologythough your sex can boast of eminent names even here; -but I would advise you to obtain such a general knowledge of the principles of the system, as may enable you to distinguish one flower from another botanically. This will afford you endless gratification and delight, in those rural walks, of which I know you to be so fond, and in which I have so often accompanied you, gathering and speculating upon the flowers by the way-side; and though Ye botanists, I cannot talk like you, And give to every plant its name and rank, To see the fair one bind the straggling pink, So sings our favourite Hurdis; and in such pursuits you will never be without company, nor indeed without conversation; flowers speak a separate language to the botanist, the poet, and the moralist; some there are who may disdain this elegant intercourse, and I once recollect mentioning it to a lady of some note for her writings, who observed that she should ever prefer "the human face divine," and the conversations of rational men, before the presence and the language of flowers under any circumstances; but she was one whose masculine understanding, and intrepid nerves, fitted her for the society of men. You, my dear Anne, are of a more delicate organization, and would no doubt find some portion of botanical knowledge very useful when you watch the progress of flowers, as I know is your custom, from the appearance of the first" coy recluse," which ventures to peep forth under the hedge, till the garden exhibits all its beauties, "Till riper months the perfect year disclose, Of all the flowers of the garden, none seems to be such an universal favourite, or to have been so much celebrated by the poets, as the Rose; not only among us, but in almost every country of the world, from the oriental gardens of Iran the sun-nurst Persia "The land of the myrtle, the Rose, and the vine, Where the fields ever bloom and the skies ever shine," to the desolate regions of northern Lapland, where blooming fields and shining skies are almost unknown, but "Where pure Niemis fairy mountains rise, And fringed with Roses, Tenglis rolls his stream." B |