Mr. Cassall soon ended all suspense by coming to the point in his quick fashion. (He would not have succeeded as a parliamenteer, for he had a most uncultivated habit of never using forty words where five would serve.) “Sir John, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen,—­I have lately returned from a voyage in the North Sea among the Fishing Fleets.  That was perhaps a foolish trip for an old man to make, in a world of rheumatics and doctors’ fees; but I’m very glad I made it.  Most people are very ready to point out the faults of others:  I have to point out my own.  I learned that I had been unwittingly neglecting a duty, and now I blame myself for remissness.  It’s very pleasant to blame yourself, because it gives you such a superior sense of humility, and I am enjoying the luxury to the full.  I saw a great deal of beautiful and promising work going on, and I saw ever so much pain, and squalor, and unnecessary unhappiness.  I needn’t tell you that I’ve made up my mind to assault that pain and squalor and unhappiness, and try to drive them out of the field; I needn’t tell you, because the newspapers have done that for me.  They always know my business as well as I know it myself.  Now it struck me that many men are as ignorant as I was.  I know that some people continually go about imagining evil; but there are others who are constantly seeking for chances of doing good, and they jump at their chance the moment they clap eye on it.  That is why I arranged this meeting.  I cannot describe things, nor put out anything very lucidly—­except a balance-sheet; but I have a young friend here, who has been at sea all winter in those ugly gales that made us so uncomfortable on shore, and he will tell us something.  Then we have also Mr. Fullerton, who has been working and speechifying to some purpose for years.  While I was pur-blind, this gentleman was clear-sighted; and, if you could go where I have been, and see the missionary work that I have seen, you would never speak ill of a missionary again.  I do not believe ill of men.  Some one among our statesmen summed up his ideas of life by saying, ‘Men are very good fellows, but rather vain.’  I should say, ’Men are mixtures; but few can resist the temptation to do a good action if they are shown how to do it.’  Now, we’re all very comfortable here—­or I hope so, at all events; and it will do us good to hear of strong, useful men who never know what comfort means—­and that through no fault of their own, but only through the strange complications of civilized society.  I call on Mr. Fullerton to address this meeting.”  Fullerton rose and faced his audience like a practised hand.  His trance-like intensity of gaze might have led you to think that he was going to pour out a lengthy speech:  but he had tact; he knew that he would please Cassall and the audience by letting them hear the words of a new man, and he merely said:  “For years I have addressed many meetings, and I have worked and prayed day and night.  Help