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PINK.

PURE LOVE.

The primitive Pink is simple red or white, and scented; by cultivation, the petals have been enlarged and multiplied, and its colour infinitely varied, from the darkest purple to the purest white, with all the hues of red, from the rich crimson to the pale rose, with which yellow is also frequently blended. In some of these flowers we see the eye of the pheasant painted; while others are exquisitely marbled, striped, and figured. In some varieties two opposite colours are abruptly diversified, while in others they seem mingled and softened off in shades. Under all its diversities, however, it retains its delicious, spicy fragrance, and hence has been made the emblem of woman's love, which no circumstances can change:

Alas! the love of woman! it is known
To be a lovely and a fearful thing ;
For all of their's upon that die is thrown,
And if 't is lost, life has no more to bring
To them but mockeries of the past alone.

BYRON.

It is a fearful thing,
To love as I love thee; to feel the world-
The bright, the beautiful, joy-giving world-
A blank without thee. Never more to me
Can hope, joy, fear, wear different seeming. Now
I have no hope that does not dream for thee;
I have no joy that is not shared by thee;
I have no fear that does not dread for thee.

L.E.L.

Florists designate two principal divisions of these flowers, Pinks and Carnations. The former are marked by a spot resembling an eye, whence the French name oeillet, and by a more humble growth. The flower of the Car. nation is much larger than that of the Pink. Some derive its name from the Latin word for Hesh colour, which may have been the original colour of the flower; but Spenser, who was remarkable for his care in retaining the old manner of spelling, calls these flowers coronations: Bringe hether the pincke and purple cullambine,

With gelliflowres;
Bring coronations and sops in wine,

Worn of paramours. They were also called clove-gilliflowers, from their perfume resembling that of the spice so

led, and sops in wine, because they were on that account frequently used to flavour dainty dishes, as well as wine and other liquors. Thus, so early as the time of Edward III., Chaucer says:

Then springen herbis grete and smale,
The licoris and the setewale,
And many a clove gilofre,

-- to put in ale,
Whether it be moist or stale.

And Shakspeare makes Perdita say:

The fairest flowers o' the season
Are our carnations and streak'd gilliflowers.

Those beautifully painted flowers, the Indian Pink and the Sweet-william, belong to this family.

Matthisson, a German writer, describes a scene witnessed by him near Grenoble in France, which must deeply interest every heart capable of sympathizing in the feelings of parting lovers. “ Not far from Susa, where the road of the Cenis begins to ascend, there is a chapel dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. Before the simple altar, surrounded by vases of flowers, where the image of the Virgin was faintly lighted by a single lamp, knelt a girl of about eighteen,

absorbed in devotion, and her dark

eyes

filled with tears. She was one of those nymph-like figures which the magic pencil of Angelica Kauffmann was fond of transferring to the canvass. In her clasped hands she held a bouquet of clove carnations, tied with a silk ribbon, of the delightful colour of hope. With such devotion prays the saint in that masterpiece of Garofalo's, in the cathedral of Ferrara, in whose folded hands the artist, in allusion to his own name, has placed a nosegay of the same flowers. The morning was so lovely and the air so mild that I had left the carriage to follow me, and was walking forward alone. Near the chapel I seated myself on a mass of rock. The girl rose from prayer, and presently appeared a hale young man driving three loaded horses. The moment she saw him she flew into his arms. Not a word passed on either side. Amidst tears and kisses, she presented to him the bouquet of carnations, with an inexpressible look of tenderness, strove to speak, but could not utter a word. The young man placed the flowers in his bosom with as much reverence as if they had been the relics of a saint. The fond girl had

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been praying for the safety of her lover during the dangerous journey on which he was setting out, and had waited at the chapel for the farewell embrace.”

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