PREFACE.
The custom of fortune-telling is nearly as old as time. Almost everything has been turned into an oracle. Even the dregs of a teacup have been supposed to possess the “gift of prophecy.” Why, then, should not flowers, that are forever rising up, clothed with the mantles of prophets, and speaking in a language that has become as familiar as household words—why should not these little “floral apostles” be consulted respecting the mysteries of our earthly destiny?
At all events, they are pure and beautiful playthings for the fancy; and if any diversion on earth be innocent, it must be one whose instruments are poetry and flowers.
In selecting our oracles, we have drawn from the purest wells of English poetry; for who like Shakspeare can describe character, or like Wordsworth, Coleridge and Tennyson, picture a scene? We have also turned