"And then there's the children. Why, they used to have scarce a whole suit of clothes between 'em, and that were made of nearly as many odd pieces and patches as there's days in the year. And as for boots, why, when they'd got to go anywheres, one on 'em, on an errand, and wanted to look a bit respectable, he were forced to put on the only pair of boots as had got any soles to 'em, and that pair belonged to the middlemost, but they fitted the eldest middlin' well, as they let in plenty of air at the toes. And what's the case now? Why, on a Saturday night you can see a whole row of boots standing two and two by the cupboard door, and they shines so bright with blacking, the cat's fit to wear herself out by setting up her back and spitting at her own likeness in 'em. It's the gospel and temperance as has done this. "But that ain't all. I've knowed two of our lads fight over a dirty crust as they'd picked out of the gutter, for their mother hadn't got nothing for them to eat,--how could she, poor thing, when the money had all gone down my throat? It's very different now. We've good bread and butter too on our table every day, with an onion or two, or a red herring to give it a relish, and now and then a rasher of bacon, or a bit of fresh meat; and before so very long I've good hopes as we shall have a pig of our own. Eh! Won't that be jolly for the children? I told 'em I thought of getting one soon. Says our little Tom, `Daddy, how do they make the pig into bacon?' `They rub it with salt,' says I. Next day, at dinner-time, I watched him put by a little salt into a small bag, and next day too, and so on for a week. So at last I says, `What's that for, Tommy?' `Daddy,' says he, `I'm keeping it for the new pig. Eh! Won't I rub it into him, and make bacon of him, as soon as he comes?'