"'Is that any thing good to eat? Give me some on it, if it is—it'll save me washing my face.' And he took hold of my hair and pulled my head back. "'I'll tell you what, Jemmy Downes,' said Crossthwaite, in a voice that made him draw back, 'if you don't drop that, I'll give you such a taste of my tongue as shall turn you blue.' "'You'd better try it on, then. Do—only just now—if you please.' "'Be quiet, you fool!' said another. 'You're a pretty fellow to chaff the orator. He'll slang you up the chimney afore you can get your shoes on.' "'Fine him a kivarten for quarrelling,' cried another; and the bully subsided into a minute's silence, after a _sotto voce_—'Blow temperance, and blow all Chartists, say I!' and then delivered himself of his feelings in a doggrel song: Some folks leads coves a dance, With their pledge of temperance, And their plans for donkey sociation; And their pocket-fulls they crams By their patriotic flams, And then swears 'tis for the good of the nation. But I don't care two inions For political opinions, While I can stand my heavy and my quartern; For to drown dull care within, In baccy, beer, and gin, Is the prime of a working-tailor's fortin! "'There's common sense for you now; hand the pot here.' "I recollect nothing more of that day, except that I bent myself to my work with assiduity enough to earn praises from Crossthwaite. It was to be done, and I did it. The only virtue I ever possessed (if virtue it be) is the power of absorbing my whole heart and mind in the pursuit of the moment, however dull or trivial, if there be good reason why it should be pursued at all. "I owe, too, an apology to my readers for introducing all this ribaldry. God knows it is as little to my taste as it can be to theirs, but the thing exists; and those who live, if not by, yet still beside such a state of things, ought to know what the men are like, to whose labour, ay, life-blood, they owe their luxuries. They are 'their brothers' keepers,' let them deny it as they will." As a relief from misery, the wretched workmen generally resort to intoxicating liquors, which, however, ultimately render them a hundredfold more miserable. In "Alton Locke," this is illustrated with an almost fearful power, in the life and death of the tailor Downes. After saving the wretched man from throwing himself into the river, Alton Locke accompanies him to a disgusting dwelling, in Bermondsey. The story continues:—