said, and proposed that we should break up our establishment, and retire to a boarding-house, where at least we might enjoy peace and quiet, I told him that I had long felt (though I never liked to confess as much to him) that my domestic cares had been making inroads upon my health and constitution that I never could restore, and that I would gladly give my consent to any course that he thought might add to his comfort; that all my anxiety had been to protect his property, and prevent his furniture from going to rack and ruin before my very eyes, but that if he wished to part with it, I would not stand in the way; for, to tell the truth, I was sick and tired of house-keeping and servants, and only too glad to wash my hands of them altogether. And now that they have driven me and my husband to seek an asylum in a respectable boarding-house, (and where, thank goodness! I have nothing at all to do with the creatures, or the furniture--for as the things about one are not one’s own, why, of course it’s no matter to me whether they’re broken to bits or not; and it isn’t likely, indeed, that I should be quite such a stupid as to go putting myself out of the way about another person’s property,) I suppose I shall be allowed to taste a little peace, and quiet, and comfort, for the first time since my marriage. For, indeed, such has been, as I said before, my wear and tear, both of mind and body, that, though Edward and I have been married scarcely fourteen summers, I’m sure that if my courteous readers could only see me, they would take me to be at least ten years older than I really am--which I am not. As I was saying, then, these thoughts floated through my mind the second night after we had entered our new abode, and I inwardly wished to myself that I had my time to come over again--when suddenly!--all of an instant!--a brilliant idea rushed across my brain. It was a noble idea!--one that would have done honour to any of our great philanthropists, or even Mrs. Ellis herself. And, yet, was I capable of doing justice to the idea? Alas! I feared not. Then, would it not be rashness to attempt it? Alas! I feared it would. Still, it had so benevolent an object, that I should be ten times worse than a blind heathen to shrink from it. But, even if I decided upon entertaining the idea, how was I, weak, timid, and bashful as I was, (I have always been of a retiring disposition ever since I was a child,) ever to be able to carry it out? It seemed to be madness to think any more of the idea. It might all come to Edward’s ears, and he would chide his dear, foolish Caroline (that is, myself) for undertaking it. Yet I might be the proud means of saving hundreds of my fellow-creatures, who have unfortunately got weak constitutions of their own, from suffering as I have.