temperance lecturer.'

Mr Finsbury dismounted with difficulty, for he was cramped with his long

drive, and the shaking he had received in the accident. The friendly Mr

Watts, in spite of the carter's scarcely agreeable introduction, treated

the old gentleman with the utmost courtesy, and led him into the back

parlour, where there was a big fire burning in the grate. Presently a

table was spread in the same room, and he was invited to seat himself

before a stewed fowl--somewhat the worse for having seen service

before--and a big pewter mug of ale from the tap.

He rose from supper a giant refreshed; and, changing his seat to one

nearer the fire, began to examine the other guests with an eye to the

delights of oratory. There were near a dozen present, all men, and (as

Joseph exulted to perceive) all working men. Often already had he seen

cause to bless that appetite for disconnected fact and rotatory argument

which is so marked a character of the mechanic. But even an audience of

working men has to be courted, and there was no man more deeply versed

in the necessary arts than Joseph Finsbury. He placed his glasses on his

nose, drew from his pocket a bundle of papers, and spread them before

him on a table. He crumpled them, he smoothed them out; now he skimmed

them over, apparently well pleased with their contents; now, with

tapping pencil and contracted brows, he seemed maturely to consider some

particular statement. A stealthy glance about the room assured him of

the success of his manoeuvres; all eyes were turned on the performer,

mouths were open, pipes hung suspended; the birds were charmed. At the

The Wrong Box