hat others moving in our circle
did not have. Our house and furniture would hardly compare favorably
with the houses and furniture of many of our fashionable friends. We
dressed no better--indeed, not so well as dozens of our acquaintances.
Retrenchment and economy! I remember laughing with my sisters at the
words, and wondering with them what could be coming over our father. In
a half-amused way, we enumerated the various items of imaginary reform,
beginning at the annual summer recreations, and ending with our
milliner's bills. In mock seriousness, we proposed to take the places
of cook, chambermaid, and waiter, and thus save these items of expense
in the family. We had quite a merry time over our fancied reforms.

But our father was serious. Steadily he persisted in what seemed to us
a growing penuriousness. Every demand for money seemed to give him a
partial shock, and every dollar that came to us was parted with
reluctantly. All this was something new; but we thought less than we
felt about it. Our father seemed to be getting into a very singular
state of mind.

Summer came round--I shall never forget that summer--and we commenced
making our annual preparations for Saratoga. Money was, of course, an
indispensable prerequisite. I asked for fifty dollars.

"For what purpose?" inquired my father.

"I haven't a single dress fit to appear in away from home," said I.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

I thought the question a strange one, and replied, a little curtly,

"To Saratoga, of course."

"Oh!" It seemed new to him. Then he repeated my words, in a questioning
kind of a way, as if his mind were not altogether satisfied on the
subject.

"To Saratoga?"

"Yes, sir. To Saratoga. We always go there. We shall close the season
at Newport this year."

"Who else is going?" My father's manner was strange. I had never seen
him just in the mood he then appeared to be.

"Jane is going, of course; and so is Emily. And we are trying to
persuade mother, also. She didn't go last year. Won't you spend a week
or two with us? Now do say yes."

My father shook his head at this last proposal, and said, "No, child!"
very decidedly.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I have something of more importance to think about than
Saratoga and its fashionable follies."

"Business! business!" said I, impatiently. "It is the Moloch, father,
to which you sacrifice every social pleasure, every home delight, every
good! Already you have l