meaning of these vices?  What do they come of?  Who’s to blame for them?  Not the working class—­never tell me!  What drives a man to drink in his spare hours?  What about the poisonous air of garrets and cellars?  What about excessive toil and inability to procure healthy recreation?  What about defects of education, due to poverty?  What about diseased bodies inherited from over-slaved parents?’ Messrs. Cowes and Cullen had accompanied these queries with a climax of vociferous approval; when Richard paused, they led the tumult of hands and heels.  ‘Look at that poor man who spoke to us!’ cried Mutimer.  ’He’s gone, so I shan’t hurt him by speaking plainly.  He spoke well, mind you, and he spoke from his heart; but what sort of a life has his been, do you think?  A wretched cripple, a miserable weakling no doubt from the day of his birth, cursed in having ever seen the daylight, and, such as he is, called upon to fight for his bread.  Much of it he gets!  Who would blame that man if he drank himself into unconsciousness every time he picked up a sixpence?’ Cowes and Cullen bellowed their delight.  ’Well, he doesn’t do it; so much you can be sure of.  In some vile hole here in this great city of ours he drags on a life worse—­aye, a thousand times worse!—­ than that of the horses in the West-end mews.  Don’t clap your hands so much, fellow-workers.  Just think about it on your way home; talk about it to your wives and your children.  It’s the sight of objects like that that makes my blood boil, and that’s set me in earnest at this work of ours.  I feel for that man and all like him as if they were my brothers.  And I take you all to witness, all you present and all you repeat my words to, that I’ll work on as long as I have life in me, that I’ll use every opportunity that’s given me to uphold the cause of the poor and down-trodden against the rich and selfish and luxurious, that if I live another fifty years I shall still be of the people and with the people, that no man shall ever have it in his power to say that Richard Mutimer misused his chances and was only a new burden to them whose load he might have lightened!’

There was nothing for it but to leap on to the very benches and yell as long as your voice would hold out.

After that the meeting was mere exuberance of mutual congratulations.  Mr. Cullen was understood to be moving the usual vote of thanks, but even his vocal organs strove hard for little purpose.  Daniel Dabbs had never made a speech in his life, but excitement drove him on the honourable post of seconder.  The chairman endeavoured to make certain announcements; then the assembly broke up.  The estrade was invaded; everybody wished to shake hands with Mutimer.  Mr. Cullen tried to obtain Richard’s attention to certain remarks of value; failing, he went off with a scowl.  Mr. Cowes attempted to button-hole the popular hero; finding Richard conversing with someone else at the same time, he turned away with a covert sneer.  The former of the two worthies had desired to insist upon every member of the Union becoming a teetotaller; the latter wished to say that he thought it would be well if a badge of temperance were henceforth worn by Unionists.  On turning away, each glanced at the clock and hurried his step.