Julia. Thank you, mamma; I believe I understand you. But why is so much glass used? If it be necessary to keep a hot-house very warm, I think brick walls would answer better than glass: bricks are thicker than glass.
Mrs. V. True, they are so; yet glass excludes the air as perfectly as a brick wall does. The frames are made to open and shut like windows; and this circumstance enables the gardener to let in fresh air when proper. Brick walls could not be moved about at his pleasure. Besides, glass admits the light: it is transparent. Flowers and trees require light, in order to make them grow, as well as air. They would never come to perfection if they were shut up in darkness.
Julia. How strange, mamma! They could grow as well in the dark, I think: they do not want light to show them how to grow. Why will they not grow in the dark?
Mrs. V. I cannot tell why, Julia; but that plants require light to make them thrive, is a fact which has been proved by many experiments. When you are old enough to read natural history, you will find many other curious things. The world is full of wonders. The works of God are extremely curious and wonderful. The more you see and hear of them, my dear, the more cause you will discover to love the Almighty for his mercy and goodness, and to adore and admire his infinite wisdom and power.—Now, my dear little girl, kiss me, and go to bed: it is past eight o’clock.
Julia. Good night, my dear mamma. I shall get up very early to-morrow morning. If it be fine, I may gather the flowers before breakfast, without waiting to ask you: may I not, mamma?
Mrs. V. You may. Good night, my love!
As soon as Julia awoke, the next morning, she recollected the bow-pot. She jumped up and washed and dressed herself. Though Julia was a little girl, not quite seven years old, she could dress herself. Her mother did not wish her to be helpless, and had therefore taught her to do many things for herself, that some children, of her age, are obliged to have done for them. The little gown she wore in the morning fastened in the front, therefore she could button it without assistance. She was glad her clothes were made in a way that enabled her to put them on without help. If she could not have dressed herself, she would have been forced to have staid in bed till the servant had been at leisure to attend to her. She made haste to get ready, said her prayers attentively and devoutly, and then ran off merrily. Her mother had taught her that it was right to pray to God repeatedly; and she was too good ever to forget this important duty. She never allowed her pleasure, or her business, to make her forget her prayers. Every night, before she lay down, she entreated God to forgive all her faults, and thanked him for the blessings she had enjoyed. Every morning, before she left her room, she returned him thanks for the refreshing sleep she had had, and prayed him to watch over her, and enable her to do what was pleasing in his sight.
When she reached the bank, she was sadly disappointed: all the finest flowers were gone: only a few faded ones were left, which were hardly worth the trouble of gathering.—“Oh dear, what a pity!” said poor Julia, “I wonder who has been here! I wish I had got up earlier. However, perhaps it was last night that they were plucked. I saw some boys and girls at a distance, as I went home: probably they came this way and took the primroses. I wish they had not touched them. I dare say they did not want them as much as I do: but I will pick some of these, and ask mamma if she thinks Mary will like them. I fear she will not, for they look half dead!”—The disconsolate Julia walked slowly back, with the faded nosegay in her hand. She met her mother, who was coming down to breakfast, in the passage.
Julia. Oh, mamma! you were right in saying we could not be sure of the future. I have lost my bow-pot, notwithstanding it is a fine morning: all the good flowers are gone! See, mamma, only these shabby things were left. Did you think, last night, somebody would take them before I went to gather them?
Mrs. V. No, Julia, I did not: I am very sorry for this second disappointment; particularly as you bear it with good humour, and do not indulge in fretful repinings. These flowers, in their present faded state, would be no ornament to your sister’s room. But I believe I can assist you in your distress. On Monday, when we walked through the lane on the other side of the church-yard, I observed a profusion of wild flowers in the hedges; and in the fields adjoining there are primroses and cowslips. It is too far for you to go alone; but after breakfast I will accompany you there. I hope that, after all, you will have the bow-pot you are so desirous of. You have conducted yourself very well, my love, both last night and this morning. Yesterday you gave up your own pleasure to assist the poor lamb; and now you support the loss of the flowers with good temper. I am glad it is in my power to make you some amends.