“Nay, my child,” said the good woman, with much earnestness, “that is not right. I am sorry to say that thy father always looks on the dark side of life, but verily, there is a bright one also. It may be that he is right in thinking that the young people have very foolish notions about such things, now-a-days, but that is mostly the fault of their elders. Every sensible father and mother should tell their children, so soon as they are old enough to understand, of the great duties that life has in store for them--that they are growing up to be men and women--it may be, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, and therefore they should keep their bodies pure, sound and healthy, and store their minds with useful knowledge, so they may be able to act faithfully and wisely in whatsoever situation they may be placed. Then there would not be so many mistaken marriages as there are now, and those who do marry, would be far happier. Yea, Hesper, I am not afraid to say to thee, young as thou art, that it is a solemn thing to become a wife, and God grant thou may’st never take that step, without thinking well about it in the first place.”
“No, aunty,” replied Hesper, with a serious countenance and a decided shake of her head, “I never shall marry. I am sorry Harry ever called me his little wife, and you must write to him not to do so any longer, for I never shall be _his_ wife or any one’s? I only want to be a good woman, and stay at home and take care of father and mother.”
“Well, child, thou hast indeed a thoughtful head, but thee knows little as yet of the world, and the experiences of life. I only pray that thy heart may ever keep in its child-like purity, and be preserved from the blight and mildew of misplaced affection.”
Thus they went on talking, as they slowly gathered the leaves, without thinking how fast time flew, until they had obtained a sufficient quantity.
“Dear me, aunty,” exclaimed Hesper, as she rose up to depart, “I am afraid I have quite spoiled one of your beautiful herbs, for I have trampled directly over it, and should not have thought it anything more than grass, had it not been for its strong and pleasant fragrance.”
“O, there is no harm done,” said Aunt Nyna, “it is only my camomile root, which is not easily hurt, for, like a good Christian, the more it is trampled upon, the greater is the fragrance and the better it grows.”