The dahlias had yet put
forth but very few blossoms, but they were elegant, and the swelling
buds promised that ere long there would be a rich display of
brilliant colours. Honeysuckles, the bright-hued and fragrant, the
white jasmine, and many other climbing plants, were latticing the
little arbour beside the clear fountain, half hiding their
jewel-like pensile blossoms and bright red berries among the smooth
green leaves which clustered so closely together as to shut out
completely the hot sun from the little gay-plumaged and sweet-voiced
songsters whose gilt cage hung within the bower. But I cannot speak
of the flowers, there were so many of them, and they were all so
beautiful and so sweet-scented.
Well, this June morning, as I was saying, when the flowers, as they
were waked from their sleep by the sunbeams which came to kiss away
the tears night had shed over them, opened their eyes and looked
about them, they were surprised and offended to see a stranger in
their company.
There had been, through all the season, some little rivalries and
jealousies among the flowers; but from the glances which they turned
on each other, this morning, it was evident that their feelings
towards the stranger were exactly alike.
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