There are some to whom I could point, who have been, if this holds true, as good as burned out, three or four times in the last ten years.
But, I must not write too long a preface to my present story.

Mr.
Smith and myself cannot boast of larger organs of Inhabitativeness--I believe, that is the word used by phrenologists--than many of our neighbors.

Occasionally we have felt dissatisfied with the state of things around us, and become possessed of the demon of change.

We have moved quite frequently, sometimes attaining superior comfort, and some times, getting rather the worst of, it for "the change." A few years ago, in the early spring-time, Mr.Smith said to me, one day: "I noticed, in riding out yesterday, a very pleasant country house on the Frankford Road, to let, and it struck me that it would be a fine thing for us, both as to health and comfort, to rent it for the summer season.

What do you think of it ?" "I always, loved the country, you know," was my response.
My heart had leaped at the proposition.
"It is such a convenient distance from the city," said Mr.Smith.
"How far ?" "About four miles." "Do the stages pass frequently ?" "Every half hour; and the fare is only twelve and a half cents." "So low! That is certainly an inducement." "Yes, it is.