Mr. B. (slouching against the passage-wall, opposite Mr. C.-J.).  ’Old on, Guv’nor, lemme ashk you thish question, ’fore we go any furrer.  Wharriwanter ’ear from you is—­’Ow ‘m I goin’ git little bit o’ good outer thesh ’lections for myshelf.  You unnershtand me?  What good Conshervative gov’men’ ever done er workin’ man—­d’ yer shee?  Why, never—­not in all their born daysh!  You take that shtraight from me.

Mr. C.-J. But surely—­er—­it was a Conservative Government that gave you Free Education?

Mr. B. (knowingly).  No, it washn’t, Guv’nor.  There yer wrong, d’yer see?  It wash er Radicals give us Free Education.  And whatsh Free Education er me?  Wouldn’ say Thank yer f’rall Free Education in er wide world!

Mr. C.-J. (recognising that he must strike a stronger chord).  Well, at all events you will admit that, during the last six years, you have been—­er—­peaceful and prosperous?

Mr. B. (beerily).  I’ve been peashful and proshperous ever sinsh I was born.  No, look ’ere, Guv’nr, I’m torken to you ’bout wharri unnershtan’, d’yer see?  Jes’ you lishen er wharri’m goin tell you. (Here he punctuates his remarks by poking Mr. C.-J.’s ribs with a clay pipe.) Workin’ man’s gettin’ more and more ’telligent every day—­he’sh qui’ capable lookin’ after his own interests.  What he wantch is, One Man One Vote, Redooced Hours o’ Labour, ’Ome Rule for London, an’ the Control of the Liquor Traffic!  What did Misher GLADSHTONE say?  Educated and ’telligent clashes alwaysh wrong—­mashes always ri’!  An’ hain’t I ‘telligent an’ educated?  Very well, then.  There you ’ave it.

Mr. C.-J. But—­er—­don’t you see, my friend, that, according to Mr. GLADSTONE, the more intelligent and educated you are, the more you’re wrong?

Mr. B. Nothing of—­er—­kind.  Don’ you make any mishtake. I ain’t wrong.  I gommy ’pinions—­my p’litical ’pinions, and the prinshiples I go ’pon are—­Down with—­er—­Tories!

Mr. C.-J. In that case, Mr. BULCHER, I need not occupy your time any longer, so I’ll say—­

Mr. B. (buttonholing him).  Don’ you go ’way, Guv’nor, ’fore I’ve finished torkin.  I’ve lishened all you gorrer say—­now itsh my turn talk, and I tell you er Conshervative Gov’men ish a downri’—­&c., &c.

Mr. C.-J. (escaping, after ten minutes’ incoherence).  I’m afraid he was not quite in a condition to be argued with, but perhaps I shall do better with Mr. MOLESKIN, next door. (To a small boy in passage.) Mr. MOLESKIN in, my lad?

The Boy. Father—­e’s in.  Go right up the stairs, and you’ll find ’im.

    [Mr. C.-J. flounders up the narrow stairs, and is met at the
    top by a very burly and surly mechanic.

Mr. Moleskin.  Now, then, what do you want ’ere? (Mr. C.-J. explains his object, in some confusion.) Oh, that’s it, is it?  And what right ha’ you got comin’ up my stairs as if they belonged to you?  Jest you tell me that!