Mr. Draper, laughing, “who means to live all his life in his tub.  However, I assure you that I do not intend always to pursue this course of hurry and business; in a very short time, I expect to agree with you that I am rich enough; now, my only desire is to hasten that period, that I may devote myself to my family.”

“Is it possible,” said Howard, “that this incessant toil is to purchase a blessing which is already within your grasp!  At least I hope you mean to devote yourself to your family now, for a few days.”

“I regret to say,” said Mr. Draper, “that I must be off early to-morrow morning.  But I am thinking, as my wife and children enjoy the country so much, that it is an object for me to purchase a snug little place where

they may pass the summer.  Do you know of any such near you?”

“Clyde Farm is up for sale,” replied Howard.

“I should like to ride over and see it,” said Mr. Draper, musing.

“Not this morning,” said Howard.

“This afternoon, then, will do as well.”

“No,” said Howard; “this is the only uninterrupted day I have with my family, and it is our regular habit to attend public worship.  To-morrow morning we will ride over as early as you please, but to-day I hope you will accept as a day of rest from business.”

Mr. Draper had thought it quite impossible to give a part of the next morning to his family, but he always found time for business.  Accordingly, when the morning arrived, they rode over to Clyde Farm.

“I remember that farm perfectly well,” said Mr. Draper; “it was my favorite resort when I was a boy.”

“I remember those times too,” replied Howard, “when I used to lie stretched at full length by the side of the waterfall, getting my

amo, amas, and only now and then roused by the distant sound of your gun, which put all the little birds to flight.”

“Has it still that fine run of water?” asked Mr. Draper.

“Precisely the same,” replied Howard; “this very stream that flows through my pasture, and sparkles in the morning sun, comes from old Clyde.  Look this way, and see what a leap it takes over those rocks.”

Clyde Farm was just such a spot as a romantic, visionary mind might choose for its vagaries,—such a spot as an elevated, contemplative one might select for its aspirations after higher hopes, which seldom come in the tumult of life.  Mr. Draper felt at once that the place was congenial to the taste and habits of his wife; it awoke in his own mind the recollection of his boyish days, and from these he naturally reverted to the days of courtship, when he talked of scenery and prospect as eloquently as Frances.  With a light step he followed his brother along the stream that came leaping and bounding from the hills, till they arrived at the still little lake whence it took its

course.  The mists of the morning had dispersed, and the blue sky and white clouds were reflected from its glassy surface, while on its borders the deep, dark foliage of the woods lay inverted.  Both of the brothers stood silent when they reached the edge of the water; both were impressed with the beauty of the scene.

“How delighted Frances would be with this spot!” said Howard.  “It is like the calm, tranquil mirror of her own mind, which seems formed to reflect only the upper world, with its glorious firmament.  I think we have before us two excellent prototypes of our wives:—while the clear, peaceful lake represents yours, this happy, joyous, busy little stream may be likened to my Charlotte, who goes on her way rejoicing, and diffusing life and animation wherever she bends her course.”

“I wish Frances had a little more of her gayety,” said Mr. Draper.

“Depend upon it,” said Howard, “they will operate favorably on each other.  I perceive already a mingling of character.  I will venture to predict, Charlotte will have a boat

with its gay streamers winding the shore before long, and persuade her sister to become the ‘Lady of the Lake.’”

The matter was soon decided; the sisters visited the place, and were enchanted with it; and Howard was authorized by his brother to make the purchase.

The house had been built many years.  It was irregular in its form, and certainly belonged to no particular order of architecture.  There was a large dining-room, and doors that opened upon the green, and plenty of small rooms; in short, it was just such a house as Frances fancied; it was picturesque, and looked, she said, “as if it had grown and shot out here and there like the old oaks around it.”

Charlotte begged that on herself might devolve the care of furnishing it.  “I know better than you,” said she, “what will save trouble.  Banish brass and mahogany; admit nothing that requires daily labor to make it fine and showy.  I do not despair of setting you up a dairy, and teaching you to churn your own butter.”  She truly loved and honored her sister-in-law, and trembled for her life, which

she was persuaded she held by a frail tenure.  She was eager to prevent her returning to the city during the warm season, and readily undertook to go herself and make all necessary arrangements.  Frances furnished her with a list, and left much discretionary power to her agent.

In the course of a few days she returned.—“We must be at Clyde Farm to-morrow,” said she, “to receive the goods and chattels of which I am only the precursor.  Your husband enters warmly into the furnishing of your country residence, and therefore we must let him have a voice in it.  His taste is not so simple as ours, so we must admit some of the finery of the town house; pier and chimney glasses are to be sent from it.  I did not make much opposition to this, for they will not only reflect our rustic figures within, but the trees and grass without.  How I long to have haying-time come!  You must ride from the fields with your children, as I do, on a load of hay, when the work of the day is over, and look down upon all the world.  O Frances,” added

she, “if we could only persuade your husband to turn farmer, our victory would be complete.”

“It will never be,” said Frances.

“I don’t know that,” replied Charlotte; “he seemed to set very little value on the city residence, and would fain have stripped his elegant rooms to dignify your rustic retreat; but I would not consent to the migration of a particle of gilding or damask, but told him he might send the marble slabs, with the mirrors,—and I speak for one of the slabs for the dairy.  But I have been more thoughtful for you than you have for yourself: look at this list of books that I have ordered.”

Frances was surprised; she had never seen Charlotte with a book in her hand, and she candidly expressed her astonishment that, amidst all her hurry, she had remembered books.

“Where do you think I acquired all my knowledge,” said Charlotte, “if I never open a book?  But you are half right; I certainly do not patronize book-making; and yet all summer I am reading the book of Nature.  I open it with the first snow-drop and crocus which peeps

from under her white robe; and then, when she puts on her green mantle, strewed with

‘The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose,’

I study the