r. The
spirited pen of Miss Martineau, in her "Five First Years of Youth," has
sketched a pleasing description of a young lady, possessing a strong
predilection for music. "She sang much and often, not that she had any
particular aim at being very accomplished, but because she loved it, or,
as she said, because she could not help it. She sang to Nurse Rickham's
children; she sang as she went up and down stairs; she sang when she was
glad, and when she was sorry; when her father was at home, because he
liked it; and when he was out, because he could not be disturbed by it.
In the woods, at noonday, she sang like a bird, that a bird might answer
her; and, if she awoke in the dark night, the feeling of solemn music
came over her, with which she dared not break the silence."
Where such a taste exists, there is no doubt that opportunities for its
improvement should be gladly accepted. Where there is no taste, it seems
cause of regret, when time, perhaps health, are sacrificed to the
accomplishment. Even where a tolerable performance of instrumental music
might probably be attained, without the prompting of decided taste,
there may be danger of absorbing too much of time and attention from
those employments which a female ought to understand and will be
expected to discharge, and which are in reality of far greater
importance.
FLOWERS.
"Who does not love a flower
Its hues are taken from the light
Which summer's suns fling, pure and bright,
In scatter'd and prismatic hues,
That smile and shine in drooping dews;
Its fragrance from the sweetest air--
Its form from all that's light and fair--
Who does not love a flower?"
In the two great floral kingdoms of nature, the botanical and the human,
if we must yield the palm to that which is alike transcendent in the
beauty of form and motion, and in the higher attributes of intelligence,
innocence, and rural perfection, yet it can be no derogation to admire,
with a rapture bordering upon enthusiasm, the splendid products of the
garden; and especially when their beauties are combined and arranged
with an exquisite and refined taste. What is the heart made of which can
find no sentiment in flowers! In the dahlia, for example, we see what
can be done by human skill and art, in educating and training a simple
and despised plant, scarcely thought worthy of cultivation, to the
highest rank of gayety and glory in the aristocracy of flowers.
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