Rich Enough | Page 7

a cheap rate."
"I give for them what you give," said Howard, "time,--and a little
more,--I give manual labor; you know I belong to the working class. In
this money-making day, men despise small gains, and yet my own
experience tells me they are sufficient for happiness. Great wealth can
add but little to our enjoyments; domestic happiness, you will allow, is
cheaply bought, as far as money is concerned, and riches cannot add a
great deal to our corporeal enjoyment. The pleasures of sense are
wisely limited to narrow boundaries; the epicure has no prolonged
gratification in eating; though he may wish for the throat of the crane,
he cannot obtain it; neither does he enjoy his expensive delicacies more
than the day-laborer does his simple fare. Of all the sources of
happiness in this world, overgrown wealth has the least that is real; and
from my own observation, I should think it the most unproductive
source of satisfaction to the possessor. I have heard of many very
wealthy men that have tormented themselves with the fear of coming to
actual want, but I never heard of one man in moderate circumstances

that was afflicted with this monomania."
"You talk like a philosopher," said Mr. Draper, laughing, "who means
to live all his life in his tub. However, I assure you that I do not intend
always to pursue this course of hurry and business; in a very short time,
I expect to agree with you that I am rich enough; now, my only desire
is to hasten that period, that I may devote myself to my family."
"Is it possible," said Howard, "that this incessant toil is to purchase a
blessing which is already within your grasp! At least I hope you mean
to devote yourself to your family now, for a few days."
"I regret to say," said Mr. Draper, "that I must be off early to-morrow
morning. But I am thinking, as my wife and children enjoy the country
so much, that it is an object for me to purchase a snug little place where
they may pass the summer. Do you know of any such near you?"
"Clyde Farm is up for sale," replied Howard.
"I should like to ride over and see it," said Mr. Draper, musing.
"Not this morning," said Howard.
"This afternoon, then, will do as well."
"No," said Howard; "this is the only uninterrupted day I have with my
family, and it is our regular habit to attend public worship. To-morrow
morning we will ride over as early as you please, but to-day I hope you
will accept as a day of rest from business."
Mr. Draper had thought it quite impossible to give a part of the next
morning to his family, but he always found time for business.
Accordingly, when the morning arrived, they rode over to Clyde Farm.
"I remember that farm perfectly well," said Mr. Draper; "it was my
favorite resort when I was a boy."
"I remember those times too," replied Howard, "when I used to lie
stretched at full length by the side of the waterfall, getting my amo,

amas, and only now and then roused by the distant sound of your gun,
which put all the little birds to flight."
"Has it still that fine run of water?" asked Mr. Draper.
"Precisely the same," replied Howard; "this very stream that flows
through my pasture, and sparkles in the morning sun, comes from old
Clyde. Look this way, and see what a leap it takes over those rocks."
Clyde Farm was just such a spot as a romantic, visionary mind might
choose for its vagaries,--such a spot as an elevated, contemplative one
might select for its aspirations after higher hopes, which seldom come
in the tumult of life. Mr. Draper felt at once that the place was
congenial to the taste and habits of his wife; it awoke in his own mind
the recollection of his boyish days, and from these he naturally reverted
to the days of courtship, when he talked of scenery and prospect as
eloquently as Frances. With a light step he followed his brother along
the stream that came leaping and bounding from the hills, till they
arrived at the still little lake whence it took its course. The mists of the
morning had dispersed, and the blue sky and white clouds were
reflected from its glassy surface, while on its borders the deep, dark
foliage of the woods lay inverted. Both of the brothers stood silent
when they reached the edge of the water; both were impressed with the
beauty of the scene.
"How delighted Frances would be with this spot!" said Howard. "It is
like the calm, tranquil mirror of her own mind, which seems formed to
reflect only the upper