He fails, as it seems to me, to take into account that freedom from daily anxiety which a man buys who insures his property to its full value, or something not much short of it. His eldest brother told me that, at one time of his life, he himself was so much troubled by the thought that if he died early he should leave his young wife and children but ill provided for that his health became affected, and his power of work was lessened. His dread of poverty was, therefore, tending to keep him poor. He insured his life heavily, and at once regained his cheerfulness. He had paid, he added, in his long life far more in premiums than his children would ever receive back on his death. This outlay, nevertheless, he looked upon as a real money gain to him. It had given him freedom from care, and this freedom had greatly helped to increase his earnings. In the summer of 1821, Rowland Hill and his next brother, Arthur, crossed over to Ireland, to inspect the Edgeworth-Town Assisting School. This curious institution had been lately founded by Lovell Edgeworth, the brother of Maria Edgeworth. On their way the travellers passed through Manchester. There for the first time they saw a whole town lighted by gas. Between Liverpool and Dublin steamboats ran during the summer months. None ventured as yet to cross the winter seas. The fares were high—a guinea and a-half for the passage. The sailing packets charged but seven shillings; and it was in one of them that the two brothers crossed over. On landing they had to undergo the Custom House examination, as Import Duties were still kept up between the two islands. Two packets arrived almost at the same time, but there was only one officer to examine all the baggage. There were fees to pay; and overcharge was rendered easy by the difference that still subsisted between English and Irish money. During their stay in Dublin they drove out with an Irish barrister to see the Dargle. “We found,” wrote the younger of the two brothers— “A line of bushes laid across the road into the grounds, and were told by men working on the spot that we could not pass, the place being under preparation for the King’s visit. Had we been alone we should have either turned back or tried the power of a bribe; but our Irish friend knew better; and after one or two cajoling phrases, which moved not very much, proceeded to ‘damn the King!’ The effect was complete, a gap being at once made, through which we passed, while one of the men remarked that others had applied, speaking of the King in high terms, but all those had been turned back.”