The glorious sun of success appears
to set over Orleans; but in the quiet
village of Domremy, resides the redemptress
of France. Great are the designs of
Providence in her regard; and as time
rolls on, and she knows that the time for their accomplishment
is fast approaching, the beating of her heart
quickens; many are the prayers that she offers to
Heaven, and many the sighs and anxious words that
escape her.
At length, Domremy’s humble flower has fulfilled
her mission: her country is saved; her king is crowned
at Rheims; and now she yearns to taste again the peace
and happiness of her native village. But alas! how
different is the fate that awaits her!
In a dark and gloomy prison, fades the flower whose
beauty won all hearts, and whose sweet influence drew
so many brave souls around her country’s standard;
and France’s fair maid suffers an ignominious death.
The Fern conceals behind its leaves the precious treasure of its young seeds. Thus should we guard, with jealous prudence, the priceless gifts of innocence and holiness, lest the world should rob us of them.
The Fig carries us back in imagination to that glorious time when the Grecians fought for freedom and their native land; when Miltiades conquered the haughty Persian, who had contemptuously declared that he would make the figs of Attica, his own by conquest; and when the noble Aristides shed over his native country that halo of virtue which excited the emulation of succeeding generations, and obtained for Greece that proud preeminence which has made her the admiration of posterity. Then were the names of Marathon, Thermopylæ, and Platæa, first inscribed upon the records of fame, where they will remain as long as the heart of man contains a chord which vibrates with pride and exultation at the sweet words “Home and Liberty.”
How gently does the Sycamore chide us for our
coldness to Jesus! It seems to say, “O cold, ungrateful
men, how different are your hearts from the heart
of him who was once concealed among my branches, to
behold the Messiah, whom he already knew, but whom
he was too humble to approach! How the heart of
Zacheus throbbed with love and gratitude when the
Saviour promised to enter his dwelling, and bring salvation
with Him!”
Jesus often wishes to enter your hearts; but how
different a welcome He meets there! Yet listen to the
Sycamore’s tale of love, and it will teach you with what
joy and reverence you should receive your Saviour.
Lying unheeded along the wayside, the Filbert is
often passed unnoticed by the traveller, while he hastens
to gather some more conspicuous but less delicious fruit.
So the world treats those persons whose reserve hides
the natural beauty and sweetness of their minds from
casual observers, who often despise those real treasures,
while they are fascinated by a gay and bright exterior.
How lovely is the Fleur-de-Lys, and how many records of high and noble deeds are associated with its graceful flowers! By the majesty of its stem, it is the symbol of dignity and valour; while by the beauty of its petals, it is the emblem of a pure and candid soul. In heaven, it adorns the blue mantle of the Queen of Angels; it was she who gave it to the land she loves so dearly; and now, for centuries, it has shone upon the banner of France. It waved above her legions when her sainted king won, in Palestine, a martyr’s crown; and when, led by Heaven, a simple maiden rescued her country from a foreign chain. Heaven loves the Fleur-de-Lys, and showers its special blessings on it; for through all the changes of centuries, it has never ceased to bloom beside St. Peter’s Chair.
In ancient times, the distaff was a common household implement, and spinning formed the occupation of every woman,—an occupation which high-born and even royal ladies did not disdain to share. We know too that the Sacred Mother of God spun and wove garments for her Divine Son and her holy spouse, and that she disdained not to perform the humble household offices of their lowly home, leaving to Christian maids and matrons an example which, in these days of fashion and frivolity, is but too seldom followed.
The Forget-me-not requires no hot-house to force it into bloom; it springs up and flourishes even in the poorest soil, its lively blue flower giving an air of gaiety to all around. It is a meet emblem of affection, which needs not worldly greatness to call it into being; decays not when fortune’s favours are withheld; and with its magic power, gilds the dark cloud of sorrow, and makes the heavy burden light to bear.
Thou wouldst teach us a lesson, flower; thou wouldst tell us that the mortal who is insincere, is unworthy of love or respect, and that, like thy bright but poisonous flowers, he may deceive for a time, but he can never be long trusted or esteemed.
Though of comparatively recent date in our country, the Fuchsia, with its beautiful leaves and graceful drooping flowers, is an object of general admiration; yet, unlike most popular favourites, it looks as simple, and bends its fair head as meekly now amid its honours, as when it flourished in obscurity amid its native wilds.
Flying our pleasant gardens, the Fumitory, emblem
of discontent, puts forth in our groves and woodlands its
pale-hued, smoky-scented flowers.
Thus, dissatisfied with itself, and displeased with all
around , the discontented mind avoids the society of men,
finds shadows in the brightest scenes, and discovers
neither beauty nor goodness upon earth. How much
wiser to resign ourselves into the hands of God’s lovmg
providence, and to accept with humble submission whatever
His paternal heart ordains!
It is recorded that when Linnæus first beheld the
Furze with its golden blossoms, he prostrated himself in
a transport of admiration, praising and thanking God for
having created it.
Let us, like that eminent lover of nature, pay the
grateful tribute of our hearts to the beneficent Being
who, in his lavish gifts to these wild flowers, speaks to
us of the innumerable benedictions conferred upon ourselves.
