...work ! My labour never flags ; And what are its wages? A bed of straw, A cnist of bread — and rag*. That shattered roof, and this naked floor— A table...Work — work— work ! As prisoners work for crime ! Hand, and gusset, and seam, Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed,...

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...And flesh and blood so cheap ! " Work, work, work ! My labor never flags ; And what arc its wa»es? A bed of straw — A crust of bread — and rags....roof— and this naked floor — A table — a broken cbair — And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there. 0 ! but to breathe the...

...gieidj, wegen ber gaften, bie iá) íjalte. O ®ott ! baf Stob fo tbeuer ift unb unb SSlut fo bfflíg ! And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there! *) t. Work ! work ! work ! From weary chime to chime, Work ! work! work — As prisoners work for crime...

...fitted for the undertaking than Mr. Law, who forthwith set out upon his long journey. CHAPTER III. A bed of straw, A crust of bread — and rags, That...— my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there ! PUNCH. THE miser's hut was on a moor, and so low that at a little distance it appeared but as a slight...

...flesh and blood so cheap ! " Work — work — work ! My labour never flags ; And what are its wages ? A bed of straw, A crust of bread — and rags. That...— work ' From weary chime to chime, Work — work — workAs prisoners work for crime ! Band, and gusset, and seam, Seam, and gusset, and band, Till...

...as they aptly term it, or starved subsistence, by making shirts at five farthings a piece ! These " Work — work — work, From weary chime to chime...Work — work — work, As prisoners work for crime." It is true that a solacing thought may spring up, like starlight in the darkness of such an existence,...

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...bed of straw, A crust of bread—and rags : A shattered roof—and this naked floor— A table—a broken chair— And a wall so blank my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there! " Work—work—work! From weary chime to chime; Work—work—work! As prisoners work, for crime!...

...his soul — the immortal spirit of the man is unmanned, brutified, demoralised, and destroyed.' • Work ! work ! work ! From weary chime to chime. Work, work, work ! As prisoners work for crime ! Work, work, work ! In the dull December light, And work, work, work ! When the weather is warm and...