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to lessen the enjoyment of what we possess-Human life, like creation,
refuses to blend the pleasures of different seasons; youth & spring age
& autumn have their allotted portion, & their peculiar kind."
"Our youth has gone! said Julia with a sigh. "Henry was it not
gay with many flowers? But now they are all withered-all dead"-suc
"But", said d'Aubigne, "they are succeeded by fruit, - why then regret
the blossom?"

And as he spoke, he caught Mora who was tripping before them
& drawing her towards her mother-"Look said he", as the happy child
turned up her rosy face & sparkling eyes, look--what may-flower is
so lovely? Oh my friend what makes yours!"

This was an appeal, to which Julia's heart was not insensible &
she blushed to think, that her children did not entirely fill it, & that
a sigh which belonged not to them, had escaped her bosom.-

They crossed the stream, & winding their way among the seques-
tened glades of Kalarama, they at last reached the road, which
led from the hills to the city. Rosa, was so loaded with flowers
she could scarcely carry what she had gathered, but still
eager for more; imagining all she met, more beautiful than
these she had, & would throw them down, to run after new
ones.- "Thus we all do," said d'Aubigne as he collected the flowers
Mora had flung down-"we despise the joys we possess, & eagerly
run after others, more new, but seldom more valuable- Or oftener
like our little Mora, who has thrown away these blue-bells for these
more gaudy flowers, we cast away the simple pleasures of the heart to reach
after the more brilliant ones of society."-

When they emerged from the woods, they sat down on a bank
by the roadside, to give Mora time to arrange her flowers & to rest herself-
and to await Henry who they supposed would return by this way.
The wide plain which extends from the bottom of the hills to
the city, spread before them-groups of happy children were dis-
{persed?} over it, seeking for flowers-While others climbed the hills,
& penetrated the woods, returning laden with boughs of Hawthorn
dog-wood & the rose-coloured honey-suckle- Exclamations of

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