And a Poor Rich One 13 



heat and dust of a city mean ; nevertheless, he 

 values his life almost as much as I did my brief 

 vacations. Something also of a naturalist in 

 his way, he does not disdain to carry home 

 with him such queer sea products as may inter- 

 est him or his grandchildren. Spending almost 

 no money, his income is actually larger than 

 his expenses, and he is able to pay a small life 

 insurance, and to put by something for the day 

 when oysters may be scarce, or rheumatism 

 may get the best of him. For forty years he 

 has been following this life. He is not a popu- 

 lar man with his fellow-watermen, because ab- 

 solutely indifferent to the attractions of the 

 village grog-shop, and more fond of his family 

 than of gossip. His days are given to his gar- 

 den and his fishing; his evenings to the study 

 of our county agricultural journal, which gives 

 him, in condensed form, the news of the world, 

 as well as the latest directions as to planting 

 onions. 



Thinking about my neighbor who died 

 the other day, and my other neighbor who 

 still lives to catch fish and enjoy the sea 

 breezes, I can scarcely repress the desire to 



