My wife looked kindly, not triumphantly, into my face, and smiled. When she again spoke, it was on another subject. CHAPTER VI. LIVING AT A CONVENIENT DISTANCE. THERE are few of us who do not feel, at some time in life, the desire for change. Indeed, change of place corresponding, as it does, in outward nature, to change of state in the mind, it is not at all surprising that we should, now and then, feel a strong desire to remove from the old, and get into new locations, and amid different external associations. Thus, we find, in many families, an ever recurring tendency to removal. Indeed, I have some housekeeping friends who are rarely to be found in the same house, or in the same part of the city, in any two consecutive years. Three moves, Franklin used to say, were equal to a fire. There are some to whom I could point, who have been, if this holds true, as good as burned out, three or four times in the last ten years. But, I must not write too long a preface to my present story. Mr. Smith and myself cannot boast of larger organs of Inhabitativeness--I believe, that is the word used by phrenologists--than many of our neighbors. Occasionally we have felt dissatisfied with the state of things around us, and become possessed of the demon of change. We have moved quite frequently, sometimes attaining superior comfort, and some times, getting rather the worst of, it for "the change." A few years ago, in the early spring-time, Mr. Smith said to me, one day: "I noticed, in riding out yesterday, a very pleasant country house on the Frankford Road, to let, and it struck me that it would be a fine thing for us, both as to health and comfort, to rent it for the summer season. What do you think of it?" "I always, loved the country, you know," was my response. My heart had leaped at the proposition. "It is such a convenient distance from the city," said Mr. Smith. "How far?" "About four miles." "Do the stages pass frequently?" "Every half hour; and the fare is only twelve and a half cents." "So low! That is certainly an inducement." "Yes, it is. Suppose we go out and look at the house?" "Very well," said I. And then we talked over the pleasures and advantage that would result from a residence in the country, at such a convenient distance from the city. On the next day we went to look at the place, and found much, both in the house and grounds, to attract us. There was a fine shaded lawn, and garden with a stock of small and large fruit. "What a delightful place for the children," I exclaimed. "And at such a convenient distance from the city," said my husband. "I can go in and out to business, and scarcely miss the time. But do you think you would like the country?" "O, yes. I've always loved the country." "We can move back into the city when the summer closes," said Mr. Smith. "Why not remain here permanently? It will be too expensive to keep both a city and country house," I returned.