"Oh, no, don't say that, Mr. Ashburn. You are one of our old subscribers, and we can't think of parting with you." "Sorry to give up the paper. But must do it," returned the farmer. "Isn't it as good as ever? You used to say you'd rather give up a dinner a week than the 'Post.'" "Oh, yes, it's as good as ever, and sometimes I think much better than it was. It's a great pleasure to read it. But I must retrench at every point, and then I don't see how I'm to get along. Wheat's down to ninety cents, and falling daily." "But the paper is only two dollars a year, Mr. Ashburn." "I know. But two dollars are two dollars. However, it's no use to talk, Mr. Collector; the 'Post' must be stopped. If I have better luck next year, I will subscribe for it again." This left the collector nothing to urge, and he withdrew. In his next letter to the publishers, he ordered the paper to be discontinued, which was accordingly done. Of this little act of retrenchment, Jane, Margaret, and Phoebe knew nothing at the time, and the farmer was rather loathe to tell them. When the fact did become known, as it must soon, he expected a buzzing in the hive, and the anticipation of this made him half repent of what he had done, and almost wish that the collector would forget to notify the office of his wish to have the paper stopped. But, the collector was a prompt man. On the second Saturday morning, Ashburn went to the post-office as usual. The postmaster handed him a letter, saying, as he did so-- "I can't find any paper for you, to-day. They have made a mistake in not mailing it this week." "No," replied Ashburn. "I have stopped it." "Indeed! The Post is an excellent paper. What other one do you intend to take?" "I shall not take any newspaper this year," replied Ashburn. "Not take a newspaper, Mr. Ashburn!" said the postmaster, with a look and in a tone of surprise. "No. I must retrench. I must cut off all superfluous expenses. And I believe I can do without a newspaper as well as any thing else. It's a mere luxury; though a very pleasant one, I own, but still dispensable." "Not a luxury, but a necessary, I say, and indispensable," returned the postmaster. "I don't know what I wouldn't rather do without than a newspaper. What in the world are Phoebe, and Jane, and Margaret going to do?" "They will have to do without. There is no help for it." "If they don't raise a storm about your ears that you will be glad to allay, even at the cost of half a dozen newspapers, I am mistaken," said the postmaster, laughing. Ashburn replied, as he turned to walk away, that he thought he could face all storms of that kind without flinching. "Give me the 'Post,' papa," said Margaret, running to the door to meet her father when she saw him coming. "I haven't got it," replied Mr. Ashburn, feeling rather uncomfortable. "Why? Hasn't it come?" "No; is hasn't come." Margaret looked very much disappointed.