"You are very good, dear mother," he said, kissing her, "to take such pains to pack up these things: you have been in such a panic about spontaneous combustion ever since the night you found the phosphorus[1] on fire, that I expected my little cupboard and all its treasures would be condemned. But," he added, with a sigh, "I suppose you think I shall want my chemistry more than ever to amuse me in the country." [1] Phosphorus is a matter which shines or even burns spontaneously, and without the application of any sensible fire. "No, my dear boy, not more than ever." "Oh, mother! Bob Eaton's father says the country is such a bore--and Bob thinks so too." "And what," asked Mrs. Sackville, "do Bob Eaton's father and Bob Eaton, mean by a bore?" "Why, they mean, certainly"----Edward began in a confident tone, and then faltered a little: "that is, I suppose they mean, that----that----that----" Edward found it as difficult to explain their meaning, as the original utterers of the profound remark would have done if suddenly called on: and he was glad to be interrupted by a soliloquy of his little sister, who stood in one corner of the room, wrapping something in half a dozen envelopes. "Farewell!" she exclaimed, as the man says in the play, "'a long farewell' to my dear dancing shoes--" "Pardon me, Miss Julia," said her mother, "for cutting short such a pretty pathetic parting: but here is another pair of dancing shoes, which you will please to put with those you already have, and I trust you will have the pleasure of dancing them both out before you come to town again." "Dancing them out, mother! shall we dance in the country?" exclaimed both the children in one breath. "I thought," continued Edward, "that we should have nothing to do in the country but get our lessons; and all work and no play, you know, mother, makes Jack a dull boy." "Oh yes, Ned, I know that favorite proverb of all children. I am sorry to find that you have such a dread of the country. You know, my dear children, that your father and I are devoted to your welfare, and that we should do nothing that would not contribute to your happiness." Edward had quick feelings, and he perceived that there was something reproachful in his mother's manner. "I am sure," he said, "that Julia and I wish to do every thing that you and papa like." "That is not enough, my dear boy, we wish you to _like_ to do what we like." "But surely, mother, you cannot blame us for not wishing to go and live in the country." "No, Edward, I should as soon think of blaming poor blind Billy, because he cannot see. Unhappily you have been entirely confined to town, and are ignorant of the pleasures of the country. I only blame you for thinking that your father and I would voluntarily do any thing to lessen your innocent pleasures." "Oh, mother!" exclaimed Edward, "we did not think any thing about that."