Yet what a world of new ideas it
opens to the mind! The flower I hold in my hand, Flora says, is but
the outbirth, or bodily form, of a spiritual flower. How strange the
thought!"
"Did she not speak truly?" asked Mr. Willet, in a low, earnest
voice.
"What is that?" inquired Mrs. Markland, who was not sure that she
had heard her daughter correctly.
"Flora say that this flower is only the bodily form of a spiritual
flower; and that, without the latter, the former would have no
existence."
Mrs. Markland let her eyes fall to the floor, and mused for some
moments.
"A new thought to me," she at length said, looking up. "Where did
you find it, Flora?"
"I have believed this ever since I could remember any thing,"
replied Flora.
"You have?"
"Yes, ma'am. It was among the first lessons that I learned from my
mother."
"Then you believe that every flower has a spirit," said Mrs.
Markland.
"Every flower has life," was calmly answered.
"True."
"And every different flower a different life. How different, may be
seen when we think of the flower which graces the deadly nightshade,
and of that which comes the fragrant herald of the juicy orange.
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