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Rh of light rings, is very becoming; and, moreover, she had a colour one shade more delicate than a most luxuriant rose she had gathered for Mr. Morland; one of whose dogmas was, that the freshness of the morning should communicate itself to our feelings. "Our early tastes are our unsophisticated ones. Give me, therefore, flowers in the morning, and perfumes at night." "Your garden is beautiful," said Lorraine, as he intentionally took his place by Emily's side. "The flowers in it are very common; but we have been so long away." "Your tone of apology is unnecessary; the commonest flowers are the most beautiful. Take the three I can most readily think of—the rose, the violet, the daisy—the field-daisy, remember; and, as the blacking advertisements say, 'Warren against all the world,'—where will you find their equals?" "They possess," replied Mr. Morland, "the two greatest of charms—the association of memory and of imagination: they are the flowers that our childhood has loved, and our poets have sung. Flowers have much to be grateful for." "Our poets all seem to have been peculiarly