‘Perhaps I expect to retain it still?’ Mr. Crisparkle returned, enlightened; ‘do you mean that too?’

‘Well, sir,’ returned the professional Philanthropist, getting up and thrusting his hands down into his trousers-pockets, ’I don’t go about measuring people for caps.  If people find I have any about me that fit ’em, they can put ’em on and wear ’em, if they like.  That’s their look out:  not mine.’

Mr. Crisparkle eyed him with a just indignation, and took him to task thus: 

’Mr. Honeythunder, I hoped when I came in here that I might be under no necessity of commenting on the introduction of platform manners or platform manoeuvres among the decent forbearances of private life.  But you have given me such a specimen of both, that I should be a fit subject for both if I remained silent respecting them.  They are detestable.’

‘They don’t suit you, I dare say, sir.’

‘They are,’ repeated Mr. Crisparkle, without noticing the interruption, ’detestable.  They violate equally the justice that should belong to Christians, and the restraints that should belong to gentlemen.  You assume a great crime to have been committed by one whom I, acquainted with the attendant circumstances, and having numerous reasons on my side, devoutly believe to be innocent of it.  Because I differ from you on that vital point, what is your platform resource?  Instantly to turn upon me, charging that I have no sense of the enormity of the crime itself, but am its aider and abettor!  So, another time—­taking me as representing your opponent in other cases—­you set up a platform credulity; a moved and seconded and carried-unanimously profession of faith in some ridiculous delusion or mischievous imposition.  I decline to believe it, and you fall back upon your platform resource of proclaiming that I believe nothing; that because I will not bow down to a false God of your making, I deny the true God!  Another time you make the platform discovery that War is a calamity, and you propose to abolish it by a string of twisted resolutions tossed into the air like the tail of a kite.  I do not admit the discovery to be yours in the least, and I have not a grain of faith in your remedy.  Again, your platform resource of representing me as revelling in the horrors of a battle-field like a fiend incarnate!  Another time, in another of your undiscriminating platform rushes, you would punish the sober for the drunken.  I claim consideration for the comfort, convenience, and refreshment of the sober; and you presently make platform proclamation that I have a depraved desire to turn Heaven’s creatures into swine and wild beasts!  In all such cases your movers, and your seconders, and your supporters —­your regular Professors of all degrees, run amuck like so many mad Malays; habitually attributing the lowest and basest motives with the utmost recklessness (let me call your attention to a recent instance in yourself for which you should blush), and quoting figures which you know to be as wilfully onesided as a statement of any complicated account that should be all Creditor side and no Debtor, or all Debtor side and no Creditor.  Therefore it is, Mr. Honeythunder, that I consider the platform a sufficiently bad example and a sufficiently bad school, even in public life; but hold that, carried into private life, it becomes an unendurable nuisance.’