Drink is their death's river, rolling them on helpless as corpses, on to--may they find mercy! I and a few stand--it's in the tide we stand here, to stop them, pluck them out, make life a bit sweet to them before the poor bodies go beneath.

But come! all's not dark, we have our gleams.

I speak distressed by one of our girls: a good girl, I believe; and the wilfullest that ever had command of her legs.

A well-favoured girl! You'll laugh, she has given her heart to a prize-fighter.

Well, you can say, she might have chosen worse.