Notes of a Tour in the Manufacturing Districts of Lancashire: In a Series of Letters to His Grace the Archbishop of Dublin

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Duncan and Malcolm, 1842 - Factory system - 299 pages

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Page 61 - What could a man require more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after knowledge ? What wants there to such a towardly and pregnant soil but wise and faithful labourers, to make a knowing people, a nation of prophets, of sages, and of worthies...
Page 96 - Lord, remainest for ever; thy throne from generation to generation. Wherefore dost thou forget us for ever, and forsake us so long time ? Turn thou us unto thee, O Lord, and we shall be turned; renew our days as of old.
Page 290 - The Lord will enter into judgment with the ancients of his people, and the princes thereof: For ye have eaten up the vineyard; The spoil of the poor is in your houses. What mean ye that ye beat my people to pieces, And grind the faces of the poor? Saith the Lord God of hosts.
Page 158 - Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke ? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him ; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?
Page 60 - Lords and commons of England ! consider what nation it is whereof ye are, and whereof ye are the governors : a nation not slow and dull, but of a quick, ingenious, and piercing spirit ; acute to invent, subtile and sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any point the highest that human capacity can soar to.
Page 94 - The tongue of the sucking child cleaveth to the roof of his mouth for thirst: the young children ask bread, and no man breaketh it unto them.
Page 164 - one half of the world does not know how the other half lives.
Page 94 - Mine eyes do fail with tears, my bowels are troubled, my liver is poured upon the earth, for the destruction of the daughter of my people; because the children and the sucklings swoon in the streets of the city. They say to their mothers, "Where is corn and wine?" when they swooned as the wounded in the streets of the city, when their soul was poured out into their mothers
Page 96 - ... temples, arch, and tomb? Pageants! — Let the world revere us For our people's rights and laws, And the breasts of civic heroes Bared in Freedom's holy cause. Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory...
Page 94 - Alas! regardless of their doom The little victims play; No sense have they of ills to come Nor care beyond to-day: Yet see how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate And black Misfortune's baleful train!

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