As nothing should be let to lie useless, it was well that the candle-box was thus occupied, for candles Martin never had.

A pound was issued to him weekly, as to the other boys; but as candles were available capital, and easily exchangeable for birds' eggs or young birds, Martin's pound invariably found its way in a few hours to Howlett's the bird-fancier's, in the Bilton road, who would give a hawk's or nightingale's egg or young linnet in exchange.

Martin's ingenuity was therefore for ever on the rack to supply himself with a light.

Just now he had hit upon a grand invention, and the den was lighted by a flaring cotton wick issuing from a ginger-beer bottle full of some doleful composition.

When light altogether failed him, Martin would loaf about by the fires in the passages or hall, after the manner of Diggs, and try to do his verses or learn his lines by the firelight.
"Well, old boy, you haven't got any sweeter in the den this half.