TO THE READER.

THE Language of Flowers is a tongue that finds access to every ear, and strikes a chord of sympathy in every heart. The same lovely blossoms are

linked with childhood's recollections of sunshine and mirth, and mingle with the sacred memories of the dead, and the hallowed spot where they are laid. They speak to the dullest, in language that cannot be mistaken, of beauty and innocence, of Divine benevolence and love; and no less vividly do they emblem the frailty of man, who "cometh forth as a flower, and is cut down."

This volume, composed of original and select specimens of the Poetry of Flowers, is offered to the Reader as a humble commentary on the words of their Divine Author:-"Consider the lilies of the field how they grow: they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."

EDINBURGII, Dec. 1, 1844.