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Wherever she set her foot at once there rose a flower: violets and roses bloomed along the wayside; the grass and the corn began to grow with ten times their usual quickness to make up for the dreary months when Mother Ceres had forbidden them to appear above ground. The hungry cattle began to eat, and went on eating all day after their long fast.
Mary of the Flowers, the flower being the Florentine lily. Florence herself is called the City of Flowers, and that, in the spring and summer, is a happy enough description. But in the winter it fails. A name appropriate to all the seasons would be the City of the Miracle, the miracle being the Renaissance.
"I can tell you for certain that Hermann and I are both very fond of him, but it is presumptuous for us to say that he is equally devoted to us." "My dear, there is no call for modesty about it," said Barbara. "Between you for I imagine it is you who have done it between you you have made a perfectly different creature of the boy. You've made him flower." Sylvia became quite grave.
In the flower of her age she died, a sad instance of the effects of avarice, passion, and love of the world. And now we must return to Mary whom we left in her new surroundings. Immediately after leaving Pine Farm, Mary went with the Count's family to the city, in which they spent part of every year. While they were there, a clergyman came one morning to their residence and asked to see Mary.
Strange that he had forgotten already, but it seemed a long time since. Below this wall on the left they had stood the first day they were here, and chipped bits of mortar and stone for mementoes. He remembered how Phil had hunted the whole place for a flower without finding one he wondered whether it was for any one in particular that he had wanted it so much.
The conquest of the world had turned the flower of the defeated nations into slaves. The prisoners taken either after a battle or when cities surrendered unconditionally were bought up steadily by contractors who followed in the rear of the Roman armies.
The Night seemed listening all lights out, all hearts at rest. It watched, with a little white star for every tree, and roof, and slumbering tired flower, as a mother watches her sleeping child, leaning above him and counting with her love every hair of his head, and all his tiny tremors. Argument seemed child's babble indeed under the smile of Night.
His nature expands before one like some beautiful flower." Mr. Outwood received this eulogy with rather a startled expression, and gazed at the object of the tribute in a surprised way. "Er quite so, Smith, quite so," he said at last. "I like to see boys in my house friendly toward one another." "There is no vice in Spiller," pursued Psmith earnestly. "His heart is the heart of a little child."
One of the earliest of these followers was Enoch. His brief story is like the first crocus of spring coming up through the cold snow, like a pretty flower growing up out of the thin crack of earth between great stones. There was such a contrast with the surroundings. It is in the Fifth of Genesis, one of the most tiresome chapters in the whole Bible.
Each flower may have dozens of seeds. The tree may go on flowering for a hundred or two hundred years. So a single tree may produce millions of seeds, each capable of growing into a forest giant like its parent. With insect life the same profusion of life is evident. A single moth or butterfly lays thousands of eggs. Mosquitoes, flies, gnats, midges, leeches swarm in myriads upon myriads.
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