Dick then proceeded, with a sublime disregard of grammar, and an earnestness that increased as he went on, to dilate on the evil effects of drink as he himself had witnessed them.  He described how he had seen men who could not get spirits make themselves drunk on “Pain-killer”; how he had seen strong, young station hands, who had not tasted spirits for months, come down from the hills with a hundred pounds in their pockets, and drink themselves into “doddery” old men in a fortnight in the nearest township, where they were kept drunk on drugged liquor till all their hard-earned wages were gone.

The whole room listened in dead silence.  No feet shuffled.  Mr. Gresley looked patronizingly at Dick’s splendid figure and large, outstretched hand, with the crooked middle finger, which he had cut off by mistake in the bush and had stuck on again himself.  Then the young Vicar glanced smiling at the audience, feeling that he had indeed elicited a “lay opinion” of the best kind.

“Now what are the causes of all these dreadful things?” continued Dick.  “I’m speaking to the men here, not the women.  What are the causes of all this poverty and vice and scamped workmanship, and weak eyes and shaky hands, on the top of high wages?  I tell you they come from two things, and one is as bad as the other.  One is drinking too much, and the other is drinking bad liquor.  Every man who’s worth his salt,” said Dick, balancing his long bent finger on the middle of his other palm, “should know when he has had enough.  Some can carry more, some less.”  Mr. Gresley started and signed to Dick, but Dick did not notice.  “Bad liquor is at the root of half the drunkenness I know.  I don’t suppose there are many publicans here to-night, for this meeting isn’t quite in their line; and if there are, they can’t have come expecting compliments.  But if you fellows think you get good liquor at the publics round here, I tell you you are jolly well mistaken.”

“Hear! hear!” shouted several voices.

“I’ve been in the course of the last week to most of the public-houses in Southminster and Westhope and Warpington to see what sort of stuff they sold, and upon my soul, gentlemen, if I settled in Warpington I’d, I’d”—­Dick hesitated for a simile strong enough—­“I’d turn teetotaler until I left it again, rather than swallow the snake poison they serve out to you.”

There was a general laugh, in the midst of which Mr. Gresley, whose complexion had deepened, sprang to his feet and endeavored to attract Dick’s attention, but Dick saw nothing but his audience.  Mr. Gresley began to speak in his high, “singsong” voice.

“My young friend,” he said, “has mistaken the object of this meeting.  In short I must—­”

“Not a bit,” said Dick—­“not a bit; but if the people have had enough of me I’ll take your chair while you have another innings.”

In a moment the room was in an uproar.

Shouts of “No, no,” “Go on,” “Let him speak.”