The agreeable routine of breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper, was unknown in our frugal establishment; if we obtained one good meal a day, under any name, we were truly thankful.
To give some idea of our straitened circumstances, I must relate one solitary instance of display on the maternal side. It was on a Saturday night, the air and our appetites were equally keen, when my sire, having unexpectedly touched a small sum, brought home a couple of pound of real Epping. A scream of delight welcomed the savory morsel.
A fire was kindled, and the meat was presently hissing in the borrowed frying-pan of our landlady.
I was already in bed, when the unusual sound and savor awoke me. I rolled out in a twinkling, and squatting on the floor, watched the culinary operations with greedy eyes.
“Tom,” said my mother, addressing her spouse, “set open the door and vinder, and let the neighbors smell ve has something respectable for once.”
CHAPTER. III.—On Temperance.
“I wou'dn't like to shoot her exactly; but I've a blessed mind to turn her out!”
ARMED with the authority and example of loyalty, for even that renowned monarch—Old King Cole—was diurnally want to call for