By this time my observation of things had become more particular, and I saw many evidences of expenditures that indicated a lavish spirit. "What rent do you pay?" I asked. "Three hundred." I shook my head. "Too much?" said Brainard. "I think so." "Perhaps it is a little high. But you can't get a genteel, comfortable house, in a good neighbourhood, for any thing less." As it was my first visit to the young couple, who were but a few weeks past their honey-moon, I did not feel like questioning the propriety of my friend's conduct to the serious extent he was about involving himself; and so evaded replying to this excuse for taking at least a hundred dollars more rent upon himself than he was justified in doing by his circumstances, he being simply a clerk, with a salary of one thousand dollars. "Rents are high," was my apparently indifferent answer. "Too high," said he. "A man who wants a pleasant house has to pay for it. This is my experience." The subject of conversation changed; I passed an agreeable evening; at the close of which I left my friend and his lovely young bride in their comfortable home. What I had seen and heard during the few hours spent with Brainard made me fear that he was about committing a too common error. His ideas of comfort were not in keeping with his circumstances. Some days subsequently I saw my friend and his wife riding out in a handsome vehicle, drawn by a gay horse. "Taking their comfort," said I, as I paused and looked upon the happy young couple. Not long after, I saw them dashing off again to enjoy an afternoon's ride. Next, I met them at a fashionable concert. "Have you been to the opera yet?" asked Brainard, leaning forward to the seat that I occupied just in front of him. "No," was my answer. "Then there is a treat in store for you. We go twice, and sometimes oftener, every week. Truffi, Benedetti, Rosi--oh! they are enchanting." "Rather expensive," said I. "It does cost something," and Brainard shrugged his shoulders. "But I think it's money well spent. You know that I go in for the comforts of life." And he leaned back, while I thought I perceived a slight shadow flit across his face. A singer came forward at the moment, and no more was said. "It is possible," thought I, "in seeking after comfort, to get into the wrong road. I am afraid my young friends are about committing this error."