"It is a great pity that their circumstances should be so confined! a great pity indeed! and I have often wished —but it is so little one can venture to do —small, trifling presents, of any thing uncommon —Now we have killed a porker, and Emma thinks of sending them a loin or a leg; it is very small and delicate— Hartfield pork is not like any other pork—but still it is pork—and, my dear Emma, unless one could be sure of their making it into steaks, nicely fried, as ours are fried, without the smallest grease, and not roast it, for no stomach can bear roast pork— I think we had better send the leg— do not you think so, my dear?"