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Résumé |
A “rush” to dig winter fuel, almost as hectic as a gold rush, takes thousands of unemployed men and their families to the low-lying marshy sections of the city where the turf, when cut and dried, has been found to be worth twice its weight in coal for heat-giving qualities. The lucky “find” means warm hearths in countless homes otherwise doomed to a season of suffering. By bucket-loads and by the bagful, the jobless are laying in bountiful supplies of the combustible bog-earth. |
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