My noon hours at Dr. Harlowe's, were pleasant episodes in my daily life. Mrs. Harlowe was an excellent woman. She was called by the villagers "a most superior woman,"--and so she was, if admirable housekeeping and devotion to her husband's interests entitled her to the praise. She was always busy; but the doctor, though he had a wide sweep of practice in the surrounding country, always seemed at leisure. There was something so cheerful, so encouraging about him, despondency fled from his presence and gave place to hope. I love to recall this era of my life. If I have known deeper happiness, more exalted raptures, they were dearly purchased by the sacrifice of the peace, the salubrity of mind I then enjoyed. I had a little room of my own there, where I was as much at home as I was at Mrs. Linwood's. There was a place for my bonnet and parasol, a shelf for my books, a low rocking-chair placed at the pleasantest window for me; and, knowing Mrs. Harlowe's methodical habits, I was always careful to leave every thing, as I found it, in Quaker-like order. This was the smallest return I could make for her hospitality, and she appreciated it far beyond its merits. The good doctor, with all his virtues, tried the patience of his wife sometimes beyond its limits, by his excessive carelessness. He _would_ forget to hang his hat in the hall, and toss it on the bright, polished mahogany table. He _would_ forget to use the scraper by the steps, or the mat by the door, and leave tracks on the clean floor or nice carpet. These little things really worried her; I could see they did. She never said any thing; but she would get up, take up the hat, brush the table with her handkerchief, and hang the hat in its right place, or send the house-girl with the broom after his disfiguring tracks. "Pardon me, my dear," he would say with imperturbable good-nature,--"really, I am too forgetful. I must have a self-regulating machine attached to my movements,--a portable duster and hat-catcher. But, the blessed freedom of home. It constitutes half its joy. Dear me! I would not exchange the privilege of doing as I please for the emperorship of the celestial realms."