The bedstead and bedding have been put away, and a sack of shavings supplied its place. The room has been literally stripped. The children have been equally deprived of their clothes, and were huddled up in a corner in quite as primitive a fashion as their forefathers the ancient Britons. The mother went out washing for two or three days a week; what she earned they all lived on. It may be asked why did he not go to the workhouse? I reply that the deserving poor, the earnest, striving poor, have the greatest possible objection to go to the house. They would rather die in want and wretchedness than become an inmate of the house. Whether this dislike be well founded or no, it is not my object now to inquire, but I must state that there are some clamorous for admission. From what has been said, I think it may fairly be inferred that if a liberal and just regard be paid to the sanitary condition of the dwellings of the poor it would, to look at it from the £ s. d. point of view, be a benefit to tenant, landlord, and ratepayer. It would also tend very materially to improve the physical, moral and mental condition of the poor; it would make them healthier men, happier men. It would materially better fit them for all the social conditions of life. I know of no subject in a sanitary point of view that demands a more careful consideration than the possibility of a choleraic epidemic next spring. I wish not to alarm, but to try and urge people to be on their guard so as effectually to lessen if not prevent the dire effects of a cholera visitation. Should cholera visit this part of the metropolis—and we have no guarantee that it will not—it is our duty to be prepared to deal promptly and effectually with it. The news has been already flashed through the land that it has made its appearance. Although confined at present to two places, this has made many a stout heart tremble. But this is not a time for fear. “Let us, then, be up and doing with a heart for any fate,” and seek by an earnest endeavour to render our homes untenable to this terrible pestilence. Every man this day must do his duty. These are stirring words, and they call us to action, for a deadlier foe now threatens the happiness of our sea-girt island than that which Nelson fought. Cholera, an unseen foe, is nevertheless a real one. Many a hero that has braved a hundred fights has blanched before this deadlier foe. Like a mighty conqueror and destroyer, it has marched onward as regardless of the ermine of the judge as the swaddling clothes of the infant. In vain has the mother wrung her hands in passionate anguish over the death of her little one; husband has mourned for wife, and wife for husband; children have been left fatherless; and fathers have been left childless; nothing but darkness, blackness, death, and desolation, have marked the route of this potent enemy to man.