seven in the morning
Oh , but the rock at which the miner chipped was hard , and the bit of rock on which he sat was hard , and the muscles with which he toiled were hard from prolonged labour ; and the lot of the man seemed hard , as he sat there in the hot , heavy atmosphere , hour after hour , from morn till eve , with the sweat pouring down his brow and over his naked shoulders , toiling and moiling with hammer and chisel . But stout David Trevarrow did not think his lot peculiarly hard . His workshop was a low narrow tunnel deep down under the surface of the earth -- ay , and deep under the bottom of the sea ! His daily sun was a tallow candle , which rose regularly at seven in the morning and set at three in the afternoon . His atmosphere was sadly deficient in life-giving oxygen , and much vitiated by gunpowder smoke . His working costume consisted only of a pair of linen trousers ; his colour from top to toe was red as brick-dust , owing to the iron ore around him ; his food was a slice of bread , with , perchance , when he was unusually luxurious , the addition of a Cornish pasty ; and his drink was water . To an inexperienced eye the man 's work would have appeared not only hard but hopeless , for although his hammer was heavy , his arm strong , and his chisel sharp and tempered well , each blow produced an apparently insignificant effect on the flinty rock .