The seclusion of his life satisfied Lowell; he was an infrequent visitor to Boston even, and made but few journeys. Now and then he went to New York, and, as we have seen, once to Stockbridge. To Canada also he made one journey; but it is clear from the circumstances attending these flittings that the Lowells had no money to spend on luxuries. They could live simply and without much outlay of cash at Elmwood, but travelling meant hoarding first, and in those early married years the young couple was not often out of debt. Even a trip to New York had to be postponed again and again on this account. Mr. Gay’s drafts in payment of account for contributions to the _Standard_ were irregular and always seemed to come just in the nick of time. “I thought to see you this week,” Lowell wrote to Gay, 8 June, 1848, when acknowledging one of these raven-flights,--“but cannot come yet. I cannot come without any money, and leave my wife with 62-1/2 cents, such being the budget brought in by my secretary of the treasury this week.... I am expecting some money daily--I always am--I always have been, and yet have never been fairly out of debt since I entered college.” And again, writing to the same, 26 February, 1849, “The truth is, that I have just been able to keep my head above water; but there is a hole in my life-preserver, and what wind I can raise from your quarter comes just in season to make up for leakage and save me from total submersion. Since the day after I received your remittance for December, I have literally not had a copper, except a small sum which I borrowed. It was all spent before I got it. So is the last one, too. As long as I have money I don’t think anything about it, except to fancy my present stock inexhaustible and capable of buying up the world.” A few days later, on receiving the draft which his half-humorous letter called for, he wrote in the same strain: “I am not very often down in the mouth: but sometimes, at the end of the year, when I have done a tolerable share of work, and have nothing to show for it, I feel as if I had rather be a spruce clerk on India wharf than a man of letters. Regularly I look forward to New Year, and think that I shall begin the next January out of debt, and as regularly I am disappointed.”