All work and no play
Makes Jack surreptitiously gay.
“Wot cheer, Alf? Yer lookin’ sick; wot is it?”
“Work! nuffink but work, work, work, from mornin’ till night!”
‘”Ow long ‘ave yer been at it?”
Several men were discussing the relative importance and difficulty of mental and physical work, and one of them told the following experience:
“Several years ago, a tramp, one of the finest specimens of physical manhood that I have ever seen, dropped into my yard and asked me for work. The first day I put him to work helping to move some heavy rocks, and he easily did as much work as any two other men, and yet was as fresh as could be at the end of the day.
“The next morning, having no further use for him, I told him he could go; but he begged so hard to remain that I let him go into the cellar and empty some apple barrels, putting the good apples into one barrel and throwing away the rotten ones-about a half hour’s work.
“At the end of two hours he was still in the cellar, and I went down to see what the trouble was. I found him only half through, but almost exhausted, beads of perspiration on his brow.
“‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Surely that work isn’t hard.’
“‘No not hard,’ he replied. ‘But the strain on the judgment is awful.'”