o wait till the impertinent paroxysm is over. Mrs. Draper's was
quite a lady-like cough, low and gentle, and seemed rather like impeded
respiration.

Visiters would sometimes observe, when they went away, "Mrs. Draper is
still a handsome woman, though she has lost her bloom. What a pity she
has that affected little cough! it really spoils her; it is nothing but a
habit; she could easily break herself of it, if any body would be honest
enough to tell her." This task rested with Lucy alone; but it was all in
vain. Frances took the cough-drops morning and evening, and still the
disagreeable habit remained. Mr. Draper was very little at home; and
when he was, his mind was engaged by new projects. Anxiety, however, did
not rob him of sleep: he was too successful; he seemed to have the Midas-
like art of turning every thing to gold:--his thousands were rapidly
accumulating, and half a million was now the point at which he determined
to stop. Mrs. Draper's slight cough did not attract his attention; but
if her appetite failed, he grew anxious, and feared she was not well.

Week after week passed, and still it was impossible for Mr. Draper to
leave the city. At length, a letter arrived from Charlotte, claiming the
visit; and he substituted one of his clerks to conduct his family to his
brother's residence. Here, though not more than forty miles from the
city, Mrs. Draper found the freshness and novelty of country life. The
family were farmers, children and all. Charlotte was acquainted with all
the little details belonging to a farm, and took as much interest as her
husband did in the growth of grain, the raising of pigs and poultry, and
feeding cattle in the best and most economical manner. She displayed her
dairy with its cheese arranged on shelves, her white pans of milk, and
her newly-churned butter, which impregnated the air with its sweetness.

It was with long-forgotten feelings of health that Frances breathed the
atmosphere around her; she perceived that her respiration was more free.
"How ignorant I was," said she to Howard, "to compare my city garden to
the country! There is music in every accidental sound. How fresh is the
air! how unlike the mornings to which I have been accustomed, where the
voice of the teamster urging on his over-loaded horse, or the monotonous
cry of the fishmonger, disturbed my slumbers!"

Her heart beat with pleasure as she saw her children go forth with their
cousins to rural