I have a memory, Mr.
Trailcudgel--I have a memory.

Good morning!" "Betther for you to have a heart," replied Trailcudgel; "what you never had." Having uttered these words he departed, conscious at the same time, from his knowledge of his landlord's unrelenting malignity, that his own fate was sealed, and his ruin accomplished.

And he was right.

In the course of four years after their quarrel, Trailcudgel found himself, and his numerous family, in the scene of destitution to which we are about to conduct the indulgent reader.
We pray you, therefore, gentle reader, to imagine yourself in a small cabin, where there are two beds--that is to say, two scanty portions of damp straw, spread out thinly upon a still damper foot of earth, in a portion of which the foot sinks when walking over it.

The two beds--each what is termed a shake down--have barely covering enough to preserve the purposes of decency, but not to communicate the usual and necessary warmth.