It is their oldest child, who for five years has been an invalid, and whose strength of late has been fast declining. One can hardly say how she would have looked in health, for disease is a fearful ravager. Still, Harriet (she is named for Mr. Meeker's mother) probably resembled her own mother more than any one else in personal appearance, but beyond that there was no resemblance whatever. Neither was she like her father, but more like her grandfather Meeker, of whom her uncle says she always reminds him. She possesses a kind and happy nature; and since she was stricken by the terrible malady, she has grown day by day more gentle and more heavenly, as her frame has been gradually weakened under its insidious inroads. When Mrs. Meeker came in, she demanded, in an irritated tone, 'What do you want, Harriet?' 'I wish very much, mamma, you would send and ask Uncle Frank if he will not come and see me to-day.' 'I think it very improper, Harriet, for you to be sending for your uncle when you are under Dr. Alsop's charge.' 'But, mamma, Uncle Frank does not prescribe for me. I do not send for him as my physician.' 'It looks very odd, though,' continued Mrs. Meeker, with increased irritation. 'I am sure Dr. Alsop would not like it if he knew it.' 'Dr. Alsop met Uncle Frank here one day, and they appeared to be excellent friends. I am sure there can be no misunderstanding on his part, and papa says he is quite willing.' 'Do as you like, child,' replied Mrs. Meeker. Then turning to the nurse she said, 'You may ring, and send Thomas with a message from Miss Meeker, if she desires.' 'Thank you, dear mamma. If you will come to me, I will give you a kiss.' The door closed before the sentence was finished, and Mrs. Meeker descends the staircase, passes through the hall, and steps into the open air. Alas, what is revealed to you! Marks, grim and ghastly marks of those years of wear and tear, which the sunlight, that remorseless trier of woman's looks, makes quite apparent. What evidence of irritability, of discontent, and general disappointment and disgust with everything and all things, is revealed in those deep-cut lines and angles which in the light of day become painfully visible under the delicate layers of Baume d'Osman, rouge, and pearl powder! Mrs. Meeker adjusts her veil so as to hang gracefully down to the tip of her nose, and enters her carriage. I had nearly forgotten to point out a very genteel-looking young man in black, who wears a distressingly long frock coat and a white neckcloth, who escorts Mrs. Meeker to her carriage, and enters it after her. Arabella has not lost her _penchant_ for young clergymen, nor young clergymen for her. Leaving Mrs. Meeker to her excursion, we go into the parlors.