a fine yard in front, and a large garden in the rear. Mr. Draper purchased the place when real estate was low, and it had since risen to more than double its original value. Howard was conducted to the dining-room, where he found his sister-in-law, Mrs. Draper. They met with much cordiality—but he perceived that she was thinner and paler than when they last met.
“You are not well, I fear,” said Howard, anxiously.
“I have a cold,” replied she; and with that nervous affection which often follows inquiries after the health, she gave a half-suppressed cough. “Have you seen my husband?” she asked.
“Yes, I left the stage at the corner of State Street, and went directly to his counting-room; but I found him engrossed by business, and verily believe I should not have obtained a moment’s conversation after the brotherly welcome that his heart gave me in spite of teas, silks, hides, stocks, and per centage, if I had not had a little business of my own,—a little money to invest.”
“Are you, too, growing rich?” said Mrs. Draper, with a languid smile.
“O no,” replied Howard; “we farmers have not much prospect of growing rich. If we earn a comfortable living, and lay by a little at the end of the year, we call ourselves thriving, and that is the most we can expect.”
“You have advantages,” said Mrs. Draper, “that do not belong to those who are striving to grow rich; you have wealth that money seldom can buy,—time.”
“We have our seasons of leisure,” returned Howard, “and yet, I assure you, we have employment enough to prize those periods. You would be surprised to find how much constant occupation every season demands. Spring is the great storehouse of our wealth, but we must toil to open its treasures; they are hid in the bowels of the earth.”
“You remind me,” said Mrs. Draper, “of the story of the farmer who had two sons. To one he left a large sum of gold; to the other his farm, informing him he would find an equivalent portion hid in the earth. The one invested his money in merchandise, and
made ‘haste to grow rich;’ the other dug every year with renewed hope of finding the gold, and continued planting and sowing as his father had done before him. At the end of fifteen years, they met on the same spot, the one a bankrupt, the other a thriving farmer. I suppose,” added she, “I need not put the moral to the end of my tale, in imitation of Æsop’s fables; you will find it out.”