sisted
that it belonged to his own country; which point, however, I, not
yielding to him in nationality, warmly contested. I would here remark,
that as the rose is called _gul_ in the Persian language and the ancient
Sanscrit, the name of this field furnished another argument in support
of the Brahmin's hypothesis of the origin of the moon.

While thus oblivious of the past, and reckless of the future, we were
enjoying the present moment in this _badinage_, and I was extolling the
odour of the rose, as beyond every other grateful to the olfactory
nerves of man, a lively, flippant little personage came up, and accosted
the Brahmin with the familiarity of an acquaintance. My companion
immediately introduced me to him, and at the same time gave me to
understand that this was the great Reffei, one of the most distinguished
literati of the country. Although his eye was remarkably piercing, I
perceived in it somewhat of the wildness which always characterizes a
Glonglim. He was evidently impatient for discussion; and having informed
himself of the subject of my rhapsody when he joined our party, he
vehemently exclaimed,--"I am surprised at your falling in with that
popular prejudice; while it is easy to show, that but for some feeling
of love, or pity, or admiration, with which the rose happens to be
associated--some past pleasure which it brings to your recollection, or
some future pleasure which it suggests,--any other flower would be
equally sweet. You see the rose a very beautiful flower; and you have
been accustomed, whenever you saw and felt its beauty, to perceive, at
the same time, a certain odour. The beauty and the odour thus become
associated in your mind, and the smell brings along with it the pleasure
you feel in looking at it. But the chief part of the gratification you
receive from smelling a rose, arises from some past scene of delight of
which it reminds you; as, of the days of your innocence and childhood,
when you ran about the garden--or when you were decorated with
nosegays--or danced round a may-pole, (this is rather a free
translation)--or presented a bunch of flowers to some little favourite."
He said a great deal more on the subject, and spoke so prettily and
ingeniously, as almost to make a convert of me; when, on bringing my
nose once more to the flower, I found in it the same exquisite
fragrance as ever.

"Why do we like," he continued, "the smell of a beef-steak, or of a cup
of tea, except for t