To-day I have been transplanting magnolia-trees. There is one
that stands among the earliest I planted, twenty years ago, and
now it is a vast ball of white. I suppose five hundred thousand
magnificent cups are exhaling thanksgiving to God after the long
winter has passed. Now, no man need tell me that the root that
nestles in the ground is as handsome or smells as sweet as these
vases in the air; but I should like to know what would become of
all these white cups in the air if the connection between those
dirt-covered roots and the blossoms should be cut to-night.
The root is the prime provider, and there can be no life and
no blossom where there is no root connection.--HENRY WARD
BEECHER.
(2790)