I have been called to see the wife of one of those sick poor men that are sometimes to be met with in this and probably in all countries. This man is supposed by those well acquainted with him to be worth at least seven thousand dollars and his family all grown except two daughters. Now this individual has not in his house a decent set of utensils to set a decent table. His house is open and uncomfortable; he himself subject to rheumatism and a dear lover of drams, but he makes it himself. There is not one convenience round him. But there is one good thing he has done; has brought his children up to know how to work. I must think that if I had all this wealth, I should have more satisfaction from conveniences than this man.