nd spent on that the money I should have kept for my dinner. On
those days I either went without my dinner, or bought a roll or a slice
of pudding.

I was such a child, and so little, that frequently when I went into the
bar of a strange public-house for a glass of ale or porter to moisten
what I had for dinner, they were afraid to give it me.

I know I do not exaggerate the scantiness of my resources or the
difficulties of my life. I know that if a shilling were given me at any
time, I spent it in a dinner or a tea. I know that I worked from morning
until night, a shabby child, and that I lounged about the streets,
insufficiently and unsatisfactorily fed. I know that, but for the mercy
of God, I might easily have been, for any care that was taken of me, a
little robber or a little vagabond.

Arrangements had been made by Mr. Murdstone for my lodging with Mr.
Micawber--who took orders on commission for Murdstone and Grinby--and
Mr. Micawber himself escorted me to his house in Windsor Terrace, City
Road.

Mr. Micawber was a stoutish, middle-aged person, in a brown surtout,
with no more hair upon his head than there is upon an egg, and with a
very extensive face. His clothes were shabby, but he wore an imposing
shirt-collar. He carried a jaunty sort of a stick, with a large pair of
rusty tassels to it; and an eyeglass hung outside his coat--for
ornament, I afterwards found, as he very seldom looked through it, and
couldn't see anything when he did.

Arrived at his house in Windsor Terrace--which, I noticed, was shabby,
like himself, but also, like himself, made all the show it could--he
presented me to Mrs. Micawber, a thin and faded lady, not at all young.

"I never thought," said Mrs. Micawber, as she showed me my room at the
top of the house at the back, "before I was married that I should ever
find it necessary to take a lodger. But Mr. Micawber being in
difficulties, all considerations of private feeling must give way."

I said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Mr. Micawber's difficulties are almost overwhelming just at present,"
said Mrs. Micawber, "and whether it is possible to bring him through
them I don't know. If Mr. Micawber's creditors _will not_ give him time,
they must take the consequences."

In my forlorn state, I soon became quite attached to this family, and
when Mr. Micawber's difficulties came to a crisis, and he was arrested
and carried to the King's Bench Prison in the Borough, and Mrs. Micawber
shortly a