I had got the money by work done at home, out of office hours. It came to four pounds altogether. At first I thought I would use it to discharge a part of our debt to Eliza’s mother. But it was very possible that she would send it back again, in which case the pence […]

I must say that both Eliza and myself felt a good deal of contempt for the Mopworths. We had known them for three years, and that gave us a claim; Peter Mopworth was a connection of Eliza’s by marriage, and that also gave us a claim; further, our social position gave us a claim. Nevertheless, […]

Eliza always works me some little pretty trifle for my birthday, and always has done so since the day when I led her to the hymeneal altar. But it is not done at all as a matter of course. During the days before my birthday, when she is working at the present, she keeps a […]

In the course of conversation on Saturday evening it had transpired that Eliza had never been in St. Paul’s Cathedral. “Then,” I said, “you shall go there to-morrow morning; I will take you.” “I’m sure I’m agreeable,” said Eliza. On the Sunday morning one or two little things had happened to put me out. At […]

I had bought the little book at the station stall, and it seemed to be very well worth the sixpence which I paid for it. It was entitled “Everybody’s Book of Bright and Original Conundrums.” Of course I had an idea in my head in buying the book; I am not the man to throw […]

The ink-pot contained a shallow sediment, with short hairs, grit, and a little moisture in it. It came out on the pen in chunks. When I had spoiled the second postcard, Eliza said I was not to talk like that. “Very well, then,” I said, “why don’t you have the ink-pot refilled? I’m not made […]

I am not a landlord. It suits my purpose better, and is in every way more convenient, to rent a small house on a yearly agreement. But if I were a landlord, I would not allow any tenant of mine to do anything that tended to undermine and honeycomb the gentility of the district. I […]

The “Christian Martyr” was what is called an engraving, and a very tasteful thing, too, besides being the largest picture we had. It represented a young woman, drowned, floating down a river by night, with her hands tied, and a very pleasing expression on her face. With the frame (maple, and a gilt border inside) […]

Properly speaking, we had quarrelled with the Pagrams. We both lived in the same street, and Pagram is in the same office as myself. For some time we were on terms. Then one night they looked in to borrow–well, I forget now precisely what it was, but they looked in to borrow something. A month […]

How true it is, as one of our English poets has remarked, that it is always darkest before the silver lining! While this little work was actually in the hands of the printers, an incident occurred of such great and far-reaching importance that I cannot refrain from making it the subject of an additional paper. […]