We are toiling, we are toiling on each sunny Sabbath morn, We are toiling when the dewdrops sparkle on the white-robed thorn, We are toiling when the sons of toil have found a Sabbath blest; But for us no Sabbath dawning, no holy day of rest. We are toiling thro’ the dewy fields ere peeps the eye of morn, When the mist on pastures hanging makes the aspect so forlorn; Thro’ mud and mist, and mire, and rain we pick our toilsome way, While fellow-men are warmly housed upon the Sabbath day. If in the annals of the world your names unrivalled stand, Then cleanse so foul a blot from the escutcheon of our land, And a thousand hands shall cease from toil, and find a day of rest, And the God of heaven shall bless you, as He has our country blest. F. K. (_Letter-carrier_). [An appeal from the rural letter-carriers of England, who are employed delivering letters, circulars, and newspapers on the Sabbath day.] While this question of Sunday labour was being pushed to the front, Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, M.P., desiring to become Mayor of Birmingham, was approached by Booth, who promised him the whole postal support of the town if Mr. Chamberlain would in return direct his influence against Sunday duty imposed on postal officials. The promise was given; Mr. Chamberlain became mayor, but he now found it would be inexpedient in the commercial interests of Birmingham especially to abolish Sunday labour in the Post-Office.