“Welcome,” said Mr. Draper, the rich merchant, to his brother, who entered his counting-room one fine spring morning. “I am truly glad to see you—but what has brought you to the city, at this busy country season, when ploughing and planting are its life and sinews?”

“A motive,” said Howard, smiling, “that I am sure will need no apology with you—business! I have acquired a few hundreds, which I wish to invest safely, and I want your advice.”

“When you say safely, I presume you mean to include profitably.”

“Ay, profitably and safely.”

“I am just fitting out a ship for Canton; what do you think of investing the sum in articles of foreign merchandise?”

“I confess,” said Howard, “I have great distrust of winds and waves.”

“Suppose you invest it in Eastern lands? many have made fortunes in this way.”

“I am not seeking to make a fortune,” said Howard, quietly;—“my object is to secure something for my family in case of accident, and I only want to invest what I do not require for present use in a manner that will bring compound interest. I hope not to be obliged to take up the interest for many years, but to be adding it to the principal, with such sums as I may be able to spare from our daily exertions.”

“I perceive, brother,” replied Mr. Draper, a little scornfully, “you have not increased in worldly wisdom.”

“I have not been much in the way of it,” said Howard.—“Mine is a still, peaceful life—I study the changes of the atmosphere more than the science of worldly wisdom.”

“We can get along, however, but poorly without it,” replied Mr. Draper; “the harmlessness of the dove is no match for the cunning of the serpent.”

“True,” said Howard; “but if you mean me by the dove, there is no necessity for my venturing into the nest of serpents. I am well aware that my habits of thinking and modes of life are tame and dull, compared to your projects and success;—but we are differently constituted, and while I honor your spirit and enterprise, and do justice to the honest and intelligent business men of your city, I am contented with my own lot, which is that of a farmer, whose object is to earn a competency from his native soil, or, in other words, from ploughing and planting. I have no desire for speculation, no courage for it; neither do I think, with a family like mine, I have a right to risk my property.”

“There you are wrong; every body has a right to do as he pleases with his own property.”

“To be honest, then,” replied Howard, “I have none that I call exclusively my own. Property is given to us for the benefit of others; every man is accountable for his stewardship.”

“But can you do better than to double and treble it every year, or, by some fortunate speculation, convert ten thousand dollars into ten times ten thousand?”

“I should say,” replied Howard, “if this were a certainty, it would cease to be speculation, and I should feel bound to do it, within honest means. But as the guardian of my family, I feel that I have no right to venture my little capital in a lottery.”

“It is lucky all men are not of your mind,” said Mr. Draper, rather impatiently, and taking up his pen, which he had laid down;—“but really, brother, I am full of engagements, and though I am rejoiced to see you, I must defer further conversation till we meet at dinner; then we shall have time to talk over your affairs; just now, I am wholly engaged.”

Near the dinner hour Howard went to his brother’s house. It was large, and elegantly furnished, and, what in the city is rather uncommon, surrounded by trees and pleasure-grounds, a fine yard in front, and a large garden in the rear. Mr. Draper purchased the place when real estate was low, and it had since risen to more than double its original value. Howard was conducted to the dining-room, where he found his sister-in-law, Mrs. Draper. They met with much cordiality—but he perceived that she was thinner and paler than when they last met.

“You are not well, I fear,” said Howard, anxiously.

“I have a cold,” replied she; and with that nervous affection which often follows inquiries after the health, she gave a half-suppressed cough. “Have you seen my husband?” she asked.

“Yes, I left the stage at the corner of State Street, and went directly to his counting-room; but I found him engrossed by business, and verily believe I should not have obtained a moment’s conversation after the brotherly welcome that his heart gave me in spite of teas, silks, hides, stocks, and per centage, if I had not had a little business of my own,—a little money to invest.”

“Are you, too, growing rich?” said Mrs. Draper, with a languid smile.

“O no,” replied Howard; “we farmers have not much prospect of growing rich. If we earn a comfortable living, and lay by a little at the end of the year, we call ourselves thriving, and that is the most we can expect.”

“You have advantages,” said Mrs. Draper, “that do not belong to those who are striving to grow rich; you have wealth that money seldom can buy,—time.”

“We have our seasons of leisure,” returned Howard, “and yet, I assure you, we have employment enough to prize those periods. You would be surprised to find how much constant occupation every season demands. Spring is the great storehouse of our wealth, but we must toil to open its treasures; they are hid in the bowels of the earth.”

“You remind me,” said Mrs. Draper, “of the story of the farmer who had two sons. To one he left a large sum of gold; to the other his farm, informing him he would find an equivalent portion hid in the earth. The one invested his money in merchandise, and made ‘haste to grow rich;’ the other dug every year with renewed hope of finding the gold, and continued planting and sowing as his father had done before him. At the end of fifteen years, they met on the same spot, the one a bankrupt, the other a thriving farmer. I suppose,” added she, “I need not put the moral to the end of my tale, in imitation of Æsop’s fables; you will find it out.”

“It is so applicable,” said Howard, “to our present conversation, that I almost think it is an impromptu for my benefit.”

“Not for yours,” said she; “you do not want it. But now tell me a little about your fanning seasons. Spring, I understand, must be a very busy one; but when you have ploughed and planted, what have you to do but sit down and wait?”

“My dear sister,” said Howard, “you, who know so much better than I do how to carry out your comparisons, can well understand that there is no time given us for idleness; while we wait the result of one part of our labors, we have other works to accomplish. Spring-time and harvest follow each other rapidly; we have to prepare our barns and granaries. Our mowing season is always one of our busiest. We have our anxieties, too;—we watch the clouds as they pass over us, and our spirits depend much on sunshine and rain; for an unexpected shower may destroy all our labors. When the grass is cut, we must make it into hay; and, when it is properly prepared, store it in the barns. After haying-time, there are usually roads, fences, and stone walls to repair, apples to gather in, and butter to pack down. Though autumn has come, and the harvest is gathered in, you must not suppose our ploughing is over. We turn up the ground, and leave it rough, as a preparation for the spring. A good farmer never allows the winter to take him by surprise. The cellars are to be banked up, the barns to be tightened, the cattle looked to,—the apples carefully barrelled, and the produce sent to market. We have long evenings for assorting our seeds, and for fireside enjoyment. Winter is the season for adjusting the accounts of the past year, and finding out whether we are thriving farmers. Depend upon it, we have no idle time.”

“How curiously we may follow out the cultivation of the earth with the striking analogy it bears to the human mind,” said Mrs. Draper, “in sowing the seeds, in carefully plucking up the weeds without disturbing what ought to be preserved, in doing all we can by our own labors, and trusting to Heaven for a blessing on our endeavors! A reflecting farmer must be a wise man.”

“I am afraid,” said Howard, “there are not many wise men amongst us, according to your estimation. In all employments we find hurry and engrossment; we do not stop to reason and meditate; many good agricultural men are as destitute of moral reflection as the soil they cultivate.”

“At least,” said Mrs. Draper, “they have not the same temptation to become absorbed by business as merchants.”

“I believe we shall find human nature much the same in all situations,” said Howard. “There is one great advantage, however, in farming—that is, its comparative security:—we are satisfied with moderate gains; we have none of those tremendous anxieties that come with sudden failures, the fall of stocks, and obstructed currency.”

“And this is every thing,” said Mrs. Draper, with enthusiasm. “Nobody knows better than I do, how a noble and cultivated mind may be subjugated by the feverish pursuit of wealth—how little time can be spared to the tranquil pleasures of domestic life, to the home of early affection—” She stopped, and seemed embarrassed.—Howard’s color rose high; there was a pause. At length he said,

“Every situation has its trials; those who best support them are the happiest. But we are growing serious. I want to see your children—how they compare with mine in health and size, and whether we can build any theory in favor of a country life in this respect.”

The children were brought; they were both girls. The eldest was the picture of health, but the youngest seemed to have inherited something of the delicacy of her mother’s constitution.

“I can scarcely show one amongst my boys,” said Howard, “that gives evidence of more ruddy health than your eldest girl, Frances; but my wife’s little namesake, Charlotte, looks more like a city-bred lady.—O, here comes my brother James.”

Mr. Draper entered. A close observer would have been struck with the difference of expression in the countenances of the two brothers, although they were marked by a strong resemblance. That of the eldest was eager and flushed; the brightness of his eye was not dimmed, but it was unsettled and flashing; there were many lines of care and anxiety, and his whole air marked him as a business man. Howard’s exterior was calm, and thoughtful;—the very hue of his sun-burnt complexion seemed to speak of the healthy influence of an out-of-door atmosphere. They were both men of education and talent; but circumstances early in life rendered them for a time less united. Both had fixed their affections on the gentle being before them. James was the successful suitor. There are often wonderful proofs of St. Pierre’s proposition that ‘harmony proceeds from contrast.’ Frances and Howard had much the same tastes and pursuits. Howard’s attachment was deep and silent; James’s, ardent and zealously expressed;—he won the prize. Howard’s taste led him to a country life. He was not rich enough to become a gentleman farmer; he therefore became a working one. For years, he did not visit his brother; but at length the wound was entirely healed by another of the fair creatures whom Heaven has destined to become the happiness or misery of man. Still the theory of contrast was carried through; his second love was unlike his first; she was full of gayety and life, and gave to his mind an active impulse, which it often wanted. Frances, in the midst of society, drew her most congenial pleasures from books. Charlotte, the wife of Howard, though in comparative solitude, drew her enjoyment from society. There was not a family in the village near, that did not, in some way or other, promote her happiness. Her information was gathered from intercourse with living beings—her knowledge from real life. If the two sisters had changed situations, the one might have become a mere bookworm; the other, from the liveliness of her disposition, and the warm interest she took in characters, a little of a gossip. As it was, they both admirably filled their sphere in life, and influenced and were influenced by the characters of their partners.

“Why did you not persuade Charlotte to come with you?” said Mrs. Draper. “Sisters ought to be better acquainted than we are.”

“I invited her,” said Howard, “but she laughed at my proposing that a farmer and his wife should leave the country at the same time. I have brought, however, a proposal from her, that you should transport yourself and children back with me; we have room enough in our barn-like house for any of your attendants that you wish to bring.”

For a moment Mrs. Draper seemed disposed to accept the invitation; but she immediately added,—“I do not like to take my children from their schools.”

“That is just the answer Charlotte anticipated, and she desired me to combat it with all my book-learning opposed to yours, and now and then fill up the interstices with such plain matter-of-fact argument as she could offer; for instance, that they would improve more in one month passed in the country, at this fine season, than in a whole summer at school. ‘Tell her,’ said she, ‘to let them

‘Leave their books and come away,
That boys and girls may join in play.’”

“I really think, Frances,” said Mr. Draper, “this would be an excellent plan; you are not quite well, and the country air will be of service to you and Charlotte.”

“We have so much more of country round us,” said she, with an air of satisfaction, “than most of my city friends, that I scarcely feel it right to make trees or grass an excuse for emigration. I have as much pleasure in seeing spring return to unlock my treasures, as you can have, Howard. I must show you some of my rare plants. I have, too, my grape and strawberry vines; and finer peach trees I do not think you can exhibit.”

“I sincerely hope,” said Howard, “you will enjoy this pleasure long, and eat fruit that you have cultivated yourself: I dare say, it is sweeter than any you can buy.”

“It ought to be,” said Mr. Draper, a little seriously, “for it certainly costs about six times as much as the highest market price that we should pay. We live here at a most enormous rent; my conscience often twinges me on the subject.”

“And yet I have heard you say, that you bought this place lower,” said Howard, “than any which you would now occupy.”

“That is true; but by taking down this building, and cutting the land into lots, I might get a house clear.” A slight flush passed over Mrs. Draper’s cheek.

“I have had applications,” continued Mr. Draper, “for the whole estate as it stands; but really, it is such a source of pleasure to my wife to have her garden and her shrubbery, that I have not listened to them.”

“Thank you,” said Mrs. Draper.

“I am doubtful, however, whether I am doing right to let so much property remain idle and useless.”

“Not useless, brother,” said Howard, “if it gives so much enjoyment to your family. What can you do with money but purchase happiness in some form or other? The benevolent purchase it by relieving the wants of others, and are blessed in blessing; nor can I see why money may not as wisely be expended in the purchase of a fine house and garden, as by investing it in stocks, or ships and cargoes.”

“Simply because the one is dead property, and brings no interest; the other is constantly accumulating.”

“Is there no such thing as being rich enough?” said Howard. “Are we to be always striving to acquire, and never sitting quietly down to enjoy?”

“No one can look forward to that time more earnestly than I do,” said Mr. Draper. “Every wise man will fix upon a certain sum, that his reason and experience tell him will be sufficient for his expenditures; and then he ought to retire from business, and hazard no more.—Now, Howard, as I must hurry through dinner, we may as well improve our time. I promised to aid you in the disposition of your surplus money. As you have a dread of adventure, and do not like to run any risk, I will take it myself, and give you compound interest.”

Howard expressed his thanks. “You owe me none; it will be a matter of convenience to me to have the use of this additional money. I only feel some compunction in deriving that profit from it which you might yourself reap. However, as I take the risk, and you take none, it is according to your own plan;—and now I must be off; I have already overrun my time,” said he, looking at his watch. “If possible, I shall be at home early, but it is a busy season; two East India cargoes have just arrived, and several consignments of cotton from the south; all are pressing upon us.”

“My brother,” said Howard, as he disappeared, “is the same active, enterprising man he always was. I rejoice to hear, however, that he has set some limits to his desire for wealth.”

“Our desires grow proportionably to our increase of wealth, I believe,” said Mrs. Draper. “When we began life, your brother said, if he was ever worth a hundred thousand dollars, he would retire from business; he now allows himself to be worth much more than that amount, and yet you perceive our homestead becomes too valuable for our own use, because it can be converted to money. All this, however, would be nothing, if I did not see this eager pursuit of gain robbing him of the pleasures of domestic life, of the recreation every father ought to allow himself to receive from the innocent conversation and sports of his children. He cannot spare time for travel—to become acquainted with the beautiful views of our own country. To you, who knew him, as I did, full of high and noble perceptions, this is a melancholy change.”

Howard was silent; he remembered his brother’s early restless desire of wealth, strikingly contrasted with his own indifference to it. Frances judged of his character by that period of life when all that is imaginative or sentimental is called into action;—she judged him by the season of first love. She little supposed that the man who was contented to ramble with her over hill and dale, who could bathe in moonbeams, and talk of the dewy breath of evening and morning, as if it came from “Araby the blest,” would one day refuse to quit the bustle of State Street, or the dark, noisy lumber of India Wharf, to gaze on the Falls of Niagara, because it could not thunder money in his ear! that his excursions were to be confined to manufactories, coal-mines, rail-road meetings, and Eastern lands. This development of character had been gradual, and she scarcely realized his entire devotion to business, till she saw his health affected by that scourge of our “pleasant vices,” dyspepsy. She expressed her apprehensions to Howard, and begged him to use all his influence to break the spell.

“I can think of nothing that will have more effect,” said Howard, “than for you to accept my wife’s invitation, to pass a few weeks with us in the country. This will occasionally withdraw my brother from the city, and it appears to me that your own health may be benefited by the change.” He was struck with his sister’s altered appearance, with the occasional flush, the short, low cough; yet she said she was well—“only a slight cold.”

At length she promised to be with them the ensuing week, provided her husband could make arrangements to go with her. “If he knows that I depend on him,” said she, “it will be the strongest inducement for him to quit the city for a few days.”

Mr. Draper returned late in the evening, and had only time to complete his business affairs with his brother, who departed early the next morning.