hbor's affairs,
are apt to pass over simple and obvious motives, those which, in this
instance, governed Mr. Sackville's conduct, escaped their observation.

The truth was, he had a strong predilection for a country life; he was
wearied with briefs and declarations; he loved above all things, the
society of his accomplished wife, and he ardently desired to participate
with her the happiness of educating their fine children; and besides, he
had many little plans of utility and benevolence, such as are naturally
suggested to an active and philanthropic mind on entering a new sphere
of life.

Mr. Sackville purchased a fine estate in the town of ----, in the state
of ----. We have left these blanks, which we are well aware are very
provoking to all, and especially to young readers, in order to allow
them to locate the amiable Sackvilles (the name we confess to be
fictitious) wherever they choose, north or south of the Potomac, east
or west of the Alleghanies; for we sincerely believe that such pattern
families are to be found in every section of our favored country.

Edward was ten, Julia eight years old, when they removed from town. They
felt a very natural reluctance at leaving the city, their companions,
and the only pleasures they had ever known. But the state of their
feelings will best appear by a conversation which occurred between
them and their mother, shortly before their removal, while Edward
was assisting her to pack up some vials, which with their contents,
composed his chemical laboratory.

"You are very good, dear mother," he said, kissing her, "to take such
pains to pack up these things: you have been in such a panic about
spontaneous combustion ever since the night you found the phosphorus[1]
on fire, that I expected my little cupboard and all its treasures would
be condemned. But," he added, with a sigh, "I suppose you think I shall
want my chemistry more than ever to amuse me in the country."

[1] Phosphorus is a matter which shines or even burns
spontaneously, and without the application of any sensible
fire.

"No, my dear boy, not more than ever."

"Oh, mother! Bob Eaton's father says the country is such a bore--and Bob
thinks so too."

"And what," asked Mrs. Sackville, "do Bob Eaton's father and Bob Eaton,
mean by a bore?"

"Why, they mean, certainly"----Edward began in a confident tone, and then
faltered a little: "that is, I suppose they mean, that----that----that----"
Edwar