and if ever there comes a golden age of popular intelligence, its indication will be the domestic library, not scattered amid the rubbish of shelves, or concealed in the privacy of a closet, but placed prominently, as an article of most esteemed furniture. Next to the beautiful scene of domestic worship, what is more delightful than the sight of a family plying at the fire-side the light tasks of the evening, listening to the voice of the reader, and varying the tranquil time by conversational remarks? A love of books thus inspired in the minds of the young, may have the most salutary influence on their coming years. It may develop the latent energies of genius, or quicken and attemper the aspirations of early virtue and piety. The mechanic with such an attraction, would learn to despise the gross pleasures of vice and conviviality; and the affluent and the educated would find in such a combination of the pleasures of the mind with the affections of the heart, one of the most elevated delights of life. A DREAM OF FLOWERS. OR THE PRIMROSE AND THE NIGHTINGALE. BY GRETTA. [From notes of a conversation which took place in a vision between the Marsh Mallow and the Lilac.] "Oh listen, dear Lilac, I've found it all out, I know what the Primrose's grief is about, I know why she's slighted; Yes! Yes! I know all, I wondered and wondered-these several years I was sure of a frown, or a glance from her eye They would all shake their heads, and declare that the queen Had enjoined a strict silence on all that had been. So I wondered, and wondered, and thought I should die If I could not find out, but I did by and by. Oh, don't ask me how ;-that's a secret indeed, But there's always a way, when we wish to succeed. I'll narrate what misfortune Miss Primrose befell. Well! some years ago, the queen gave a rout— And be held on the greenest and shadiest lawn Where the zephyrs breathed softly on wind-harps and lutes From a far distant land her assembly to view— And of course was most anxious no court they had seen Was, that on her best boddice a horrible stain Had been left ever since the last shower of rain.” And she said, "as her Majesty wants us to shine She would not have there such a soiled dress as mine. To do when in Rome, as the Romans all do, I hope that the Queen will my absence excuse, Though the thought of not being there gives me the blues. Besides I'm not well, I have fever and thirst, And mamma says, had better stay home and be nursed; But indeed this by no means should keep me away And I'm sorry, so sorry, the time is so near, For do what I will I can't get one I fear." Well, the messenger went and told all to the Queen, For no more was said of the Primrose's stay When a guest-'twas Sir Aloe, who came from the East- Ah! thoughtless young flower why didst thou deceive, For when it was over and all were at rest, Queen Flora stole out in a dark doublet drest (She wished to be incog,) and wandered about With her eyes on the sleepers and thoughts on the rout. 'Tis a way that she has and I think it queer— 'Tis none of our business, but don't you my dear? Well she walked and she walked, when what should she hear Well, there she was standing, and Flora turned pale, Well, the Queen was incensed and turning away Well, the elves started off, and by morning's first breeze The poor captive lover was over the seas, Far, far from his Primrose, far, far from his home With leave, for the rest of his life there to roam. He didn't survive though, but died the next year, And never since then, has the sun seen her face. Now what do you say, love, to all I have told? Astonished at nothing at all now-a-days? |