There was another seizure for debt, and the remnant of stock, with nearly all their furniture, was taken and sold.

The rented farm had to be given up; with this, the hope of gaining even sufficient food for her little ones died in the wretched mother's mind.
From a farmer on his own account, Foster now became a mere farm labourer; with wages sufficient, however, to have made things comfortable at home under the management of his frugal, industrious wife, if all he earned had been brought home to her.

But at least one third, and finally one half, and sometimes more, went to swell the gain of the tavern-keeper.

Had it not been that a cow and a few chickens were left to them at the last seizure of their things, pinching hunger would have entered the comfortless home where the mother hid herself with her children.
At last Foster became so good for nothing, that he could not obtain employment as a farm hand anywhere in the neighbourhood, and was obliged to go off to a distance to get work.

This, to him, was not felt to be a very great trial, for it removed him from the sight of his half-fed, half-clothed children, and dejected, suffering wife; and he could, therefore spend with more freedom, and fewer touches, of compunction, the greater portion of his earnings in gratifying the inordinate cravings of his vitiated appetite.
Thus, in general, stood affairs at the opening of our story.