The change proposed was speedily made. As they shrunk closer together in this smaller house, they felt more sensibly the warmth of each other’s hearts. The mother joined with her daughters in their efforts to cut off every expense, and when they proposed doing without a servant, made no objection, but rather approved the measure. So the servant was dismissed, and the whole care and labor of the household devolved upon Mrs. Townsend, Eveline, and Eunice. At their last removal, they found great difficulty in crowding the furniture, taken from a house almost double that of the one they were to occupy, into the smaller space allotted for its reception. Compression was no longer possible. A council on the subject was held, at which it was decided to sell certain large and costly articles, and retain only such as corresponded to their reduced style of living. Quite a large selection was made and sold at vendue, from which the handsome sum of one thousand dollars was raised, which was paid into Mr. Townsend’s hands, just in time to enable him to make a heavy payment, and thus prevent a knowledge of his crippled state from becoming known. “How strangely events turn out,” he said to his daughter Eunice, with whom he could speak on the subject of his business and prospects, more freely and intimately than with any other member of his family, not even excepting his wife, whose spirits usually became depressed, when allusion was made to the subject. “But for you, no one would have thought of a reduction of expense by moving into a cheaper house. The cheaper house was smaller, and, therefore, to get into it, we had to reduce our furniture. For what was surplus, and therefore useless, a thousand dollars were received, and these thousand dollars came just in time to enable me to make a payment, otherwise impossible, upon which almost every thing depended. How strangely events turn out! I am bewildered at times.” “He leads us by a way that we know not,” Eunice said, low and reverently. “Who?” Mr. Townsend spoke ere he reflected. “He whose tender mercies are over all his works,” was replied. For a few moments there was silence. “You think, then, that the hand of Providence is in every thing?” said Mr. Townsend. “Oh, yes, surely it is!” returned Eunice. “The Creator of all must be the Sustainer of all.” “That is, doubtless, true. A general providence over a man’s life may exist, but I can hardly believe that there is a particular providence regarding all the minuter things.” “Can there be such a thing as a general, that is not made up of particulars? A general providence not the sum of particular providences?” This question Mr. Townsend did not answer immediately. The proposition was new to his mind, and came upon it with the force of truth. “There is such a thing as a general superintendence of affairs,” he said, thoughtfully.