The Brahmin happening to be in one of those pleasant moods which are
occasionally experienced by amiable tempers, even when under the
pressure of sorrow and age, now amused himself in pointing out the
flowers which probably represented the different nations of the earth;
and when he saw any one remarkably small, pale and delicate, he insisted
that it belonged to his own country; which point, however, I, not
yielding to him in nationality, warmly contested. I would here remark,
that as the rose is called _gul_ in the Persian language and the ancient
Sanscrit, the name of this field furnished another argument in support
of the Brahmin's hypothesis of the origin of the moon.
While thus oblivious of the past, and reckless of the future, we were
enjoying the present moment in this _badinage_, and I was extolling the
odour of the rose, as beyond every other grateful to the olfactory
nerves of man, a lively, flippant little personage came up, and accosted
the Brahmin with the familiarity of an acquaintance. My companion
immediately introduced me to him, and at the same time gave me to
understand that this was the great Reffei, one of the most distinguished
literati of the country. Although his eye was remarkably piercing, I
perceived in it somewhat of the wildness which always characterizes a
Glonglim. He was evidently impatient for discussion; and having informed
himself of the subject of my rhapsody when he joined our party, he
vehemently exclaimed,--"I am surprised at your falling in with that
popular prejudice; while it is easy to show, that but for some feeling
of love, or pity, or admiration, with which the rose happens to be
associated--some past pleasure which it brings to your recollection, or
some future pleasure which it suggests,--any other flower would be
equally sweet.
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