"A friend of mine, a scientific botanist, residing near Sheffield, had sent a package of sundry kinds of British seeds to the learned and venerable Doctor WILLIAM CAREY. Some of the seeds had been enclosed in a bag, containing a portion of their native earth. In March 1821 a letter of acknowledgment was received by his correspondent from the Doctor, who was himself well skilled in botany, and had a garden rich in plants, both tropical and European. In this enclosure he was wont to spend an hour every morning, before he entered upon those labours and studies which have rendered his name illustrious both at home and abroad, as one of the most accomplished of Oriental scholars and a translator of the Holy Scriptures into many of the Hindoo languages. In the letter aforementioned, which was shown to me, the good man says:--'That I might be sure not to lose any part of your valuable present, I shook the bag over a patch of earth in a shady place: on visiting which a few days afterwards I found springing up, to my inexpressible delight, a Bellis perennis of our English pastures. I know not that I ever enjoyed, since leaving Europe, a simple pleasure so exquisite as the sight of this English Daisy afforded me; not having seen one for upwards of thirty years, and never expecting to see one again.' "On the perusal of this passage, the following stanzas seemed to spring up almost spontaneously in my mind, as the 'little English flower' in the good Doctor's garden, whom I imagined to be thus addressing it on its sudden appearance:-- "Thrice welcome, little English flower! My mother-country's white and red, In rose or lily, till this hour, Never to me such beauty spread: Transplanted from thine island-bed, A treasure in a grain of earth, Strange as a spirit from the dead, Thine embryo sprang to birth. "Thrice welcome, little English flower! Whose tribes, beneath our natal skies, Shut close their leaves while vapours lower; But, when the sun's gay beams arise, With unabashed but modest eyes, Follow his motion to the west, Nor cease to gaze till daylight dies, Then fold themselves to rest. "Thrice welcome, little English flower! To this resplendent hemisphere, Where Flora's giant offspring tower In gorgeous liveries all the year: Thou, only thou, art little here, Like worth unfriended and unknown, Yet to my British heart more dear Than all the torrid zone. "Thrice welcome, little English flower! Of early scenes beloved by me, While happy in my father's bower, Thou shalt the blythe memorial be; The fairy sports of infancy, Youth's golden age, and manhood's prime. Home, country, kindred, friends,--with thee, I find in this far clime.