“I wish my dear Hassy,” said Mrs. Webb to her husband, “I do really wish that we had a house of our own; I dislike to live at lodgings, it leaves me so little to do. When my baby is dressed and your bureau is put in order, I have nothing to do but to sew, no exercise at all; and as to you, you read, read until you lose your colour and health. Now, if we had a house to ourselves, you would have exercise enough in going to market—(Heavens, Mr. Webb go to market!!)—and in one little odd notion or other; and as to me, I should be as busy as a bee, and would scarcely have time to sit down from morning till night.” “My dear Winny,” said her husband, “I detest this mode of life as much as you can do, I am even more anxious to leave these lodgings than you are—and—I have several times lately been going to mention the subject to you. I have weighed it over and over in my own mind for a long time, and if you have no _material_ objection—(Here Mr. Webb refrained from looking at his wife)—I should prefer, when we do move, to live in the country.” Now, this was precisely what Mrs. Webb disliked; she had for some time been dreading that her husband would make a proposal of this kind, and she had fortified herself well to meet it. She, too, as she thought, had weighed the affair well, and all things being considered, her decision was, that there was more real comfort for man, woman and child, in the city than in the country. “When one comes to speak of horses, cows and dogs,” said she one day to a friend, “why then the case is altered. Keeping a horse at livery is an expensive thing, as Mr. Webb finds to his cost, and milk from cows which are fed about a stable yard, is unfit to drink. Dogs to be sure, nine cases in ten, are useless and worthless animals, in any place; but they lead a life of misery in the city, kicked and cuffed and half starved as they always are. If dogs must be kept, the country is the best place for them too.” Mr. Ahasuerus Webb was a gentleman born and bred; the peculiar cast of his mind led him to study theology, and but for his timidity, for he distrusted his own powers, he would have destined himself to the church. His friends, however, thought there was a much stronger objection to his taking orders than what arose from timidity or the absence of powerful talent. Mr. Webb was one of the most diminutive of men—almost a dwarf.—But was there ever a small man who felt conscious that he was unable to achieve actions which belonged exclusively to those possessing superior stature and strength? Year after year, however, passed away in irresolution on his part in choosing an occupation which might increase his income. He had no employments but such as were the result of reading; and his friends at length ceased to urge him to exertion, as there seemed every probability that he would always remain single, having then attained his twenty-eighth year.