Editor’s Preface

Go, little flowers, whither the hand of the good God sends you. Open your petals, exhale your fragrance and embalm the souls of all who see you : Florete , Flores . . . Date Odorern Ft Frondete In Gratiam.

Be not ephemeral, like those flowers of our gardens that bloom and die in a day ; but bear fruits — fruits containing the seeds of vitality: Semen Fst Verbum.

May every word of these pages, falling upon the soil of upright hearts enriched by fervent prayer and meditation, be like the germ which, heated and nourished by favorable influences, expands into a beautiful flower, a magnificent tree. Let a new stem arise therefrom, with its branches, its perfumes, its treasures, — the fruits of honor and sanctity : Flores Mei, Fructus Honoris Ft Honestatis ! Amen !

A. MENNIN.

Paris, Vigil of Our Lord’s Nativity, 1867.

H f7 £? £?

The Infant Jesus oilers His friends a tiny bouquet, culled from one of his choicest gardens. Although years have passed since these flowerets, springing from the heart of the saintly Curd of Ars, first opened their petals to the light of day, and many who then enjoyed their beauty and fragrance have descended to the tomb, even as the holy Curd himself, yet, like all other plants of celestial origin, they are imperishable ; time’s withering hand neither leaves blight upon their beauty nor diminishes the sweet odor which they erst possessed. May all who receive them now be embalmed with this odor ; and, while praising God for the graces that He vouchsafed to bestow upon the work of His own hands, — the man whose life of heroic abnegation challenges the admiration even of unbelievers and loudly calls for a place on our altars, — may they, during the devious course of life’s pilgrimage, learn to look beyond earth’s mists and vapors to that home on high, where an incorruptible crown awaits all who have fought the good fight.

TRANSLATOR.