"Despise it!" repeated Susan, sighing as she knelt on the log between Harry and her sister, and bound over Charlotte's pale forehead the wreath of ominous nightshade. "'Despise money,' Morris, I would do any thing in the world to get enough to take Lottie down to that wonderful New-York doctor; but there's one comfort, Lottie," she added,brightening, "he might not cure you, and then we should feel worse than ever."
"What doctor is Sue speaking of?" asked Harry, looking up eagerly from his Bible.
Charlotte explained that a cousin living in New-York had written to her of a physician in the city, who had been particularly successful in treating diseases of the spine. Her cousin had urged Charlotte's coming to the city, and had kindly offered to receive the poor invalid at her house. "Father," she said, "talks of our going, but I do not think we can make it out, so I don't allow myself to think of it much; and when murmuring thoughts rise, I remember how many rich people there are who travel the world over, and consult all the doctors, and are nothing bettered; and so I put a little patience-salve on the aching place, and that, as Susy would say, is a great comfort when you can't get any thing else."
"Yes—when you can't," replied Harry, fixing his eyes compassionately on Charlotte's face, where, though the cheek was pale, and the eye sunken, the health of the soul was apparent. "But can't there be some way contrived?"
We are trying our best at contrivance, Harry. Father, you know, never has any thing ahead; but he offered himself to let out old Jock by the day, and
