proportions, making their
possessors worthy members of society.

I will illustrate this by a fable, which occurred to me as I walked over
the beautiful garden of a friend, with whom I spent a few weeks the past
summer. We will suppose, for our present purpose, that the flowers have
an articulate voice.

A stately dahlia grew in a cultivated garden. There were many of the
same species of flowers, but no other had the peculiar variegated tints
of this particular one. Every one, in passing by it, was attracted by
its beauty. It seemed as if vain of flattery, although we know it had no
ears to hear, for every day it seemed to increase in size and beauty.
With its lofty head, it gained a supremacy above all its neighbors, and
the heavy shower and furious wind failed to soil its petals or bend its
graceful form.

Away off in the farther corner of the garden, under a hedge, bloomed a
simple white clover. It was entirely unheeded by the multitude, although
it gave a sweetness and fragrancy to the air, which made the invalid
stop to inhale it. In its modesty it bloomed, in its lowly bed it sought
no observation, and was passed by as a simple white clover. By and by
the mower's scythe passed that way and levelled it among common grasses.
It was gathered in the general mass of hay, and became a part of the
sustenance of the master's cattle.

The dahlia was plucked by the horticulturist, and placed in a glass
receptacle, among kindred flowers, where it was gazed at for a time;
then it faded and was thrown among common rubbish. During their lifetime
we will suppose them to have conversed together.

"I," said the dahlia, "am queen of this garden. I attract every eye that
passes; while you, little clover, are hidden by the tall grass, and
liable to be crushed at any moment."

"Well," replied the clover, "let it be so _now_; but look at our _final
end_. You will be placed in a glass, plucked from your native stem,
where you will wither and die as a worthless thing; while I shall be
felled by the scythe, after I have reached my maturity, and then a
thousand tiny seeds will I strow around me; so that, another reason, I
shall bloom all about the hedges, and my usefulness will be appreciated.
And pray where will you then be?" The dahlia blushed, and hung its head
for shame.

Here, children, is a fable designed to illustrate pride and humility.
Which appears the most beautiful, because the most useful? I know you
will prefer humili