of life." (" Hear, hear!" from two
members of the crowd, concerning the first of
whom it was pretty evident that the chief
necessary of his life was gin, and that he managed,
in spite of the aristocracy, to get it; while, with
regard to the second, the chief necessary of
his life seemed to be soap and water, which
he certainly did not get.) "That reminds
me," continued the orator, who was singularly
discursive, and could not stick to one
subject for five minutes together—" that reminds
me of the recent famine in India, and as we
were talking about lapdogs, and curs, and such-
like, I mean to say that of all the pack of
hounds—yes, that's the word, hounds—the
precious set by whom we are governed are the most
currish lot, and if the people, if you who are
standing here this day, knew your own power,
I mean to say that you might make 'em—ah,
make 'em—take your needs and your wishes
into consideration. But with regard to the
East and this famine which has lately been raging
—and it is with the East that my present lecture
has to do"—(A wag in the crowd: "Can't
yer do nothink with this here east wind?")
—"with regard to this Eastern question, what
I say, and what I do say, and what I will say, is
this, that if we had not been governed, or rather
I will say misgoverned, in the most atrocious and
shameful manner, and if there had not been the
most selfish and unfeeling system at work, and
a parcel of lazy idle brutes neglecting their
duties, this famine need never have occurred at
all. But who cares for a lot of poor devils who
only represent a people? There's my Lord
Derby's stud, they must be fed and looked after,
and so must the Prince Consort's pigs, but never
mind about half the population of a country
(every member of which, mind you, is as
important as either of those two lazy aristocrats
just named)—never mind whether they starve or
not. The fact is, it's all a close borough, that's
what the government of this country is. As for
the people being represented, they can't get into
it, no more than I can get into Buckingham
Palace. And mind you this ain't all. It isn't all
confined to the higher ranks; there is"—
continued the orator, who had apparently been equally
ill-used by all classes of society—" there is the
same spirit of exclusiveness everywhere. Why, I
happen to know in the cabinet-making trade—"
(" What's that got to do with the Heest?"
inquired a member of the audience.) " Never
mind what it's got to do with the East. I'll show
you presently. It's all connected. That's a
man, now, of one idea," continued the speaker,
pointing in the direction from which the question
had just emanated. "That's a man who
can't see the connexion of things." ("Hear,
hear!" from a small boy, who thought he could
see the connexion of things.) " What I mean
to prove is, that it's all wrong, cabinet-makers
and cabinet ministers alike." (" Quite true,"
said a young man with a fluffy whisker; who,
upon several persons near him turning suddenly
about and staring at him, turned so red, became
the victim of such St. Vitus-like contortions,
and presented generally so smiling and
despicable an appearance, that he was really an
object for commiseration.)

" I know a young man at this moment," the
speaker resumed, upon which he of the fluffy
whisker became again the subject of popular
scrutiny, " who is the victim, as I may say, of
the cabinet-makers. They won't have a workman
among 'em who hasn't served his apprenticeship."
(" Quite right too," from somebody
who possibly had served his apprenticeship.)
"No it isn't, it's quite wrong. If he hasn't got
his indentures to show, he may work as well as
he likes, and they won't have anything to say to
him." (At this point several able-looking work-
men, standing near the young man with the
fluffy whisker, began to look at him
disparagingly, and one old fellow even went so far
as to shake his head gravely at him, giving vent
to a contemptuous grunt.)

At this juncture there was an interruption in
the speaker's remarks, caused by his finding
himself in the distressing position of having to
recant. A member of the assembly stepped up to
the bench, and a long whispered conference took
place between him and the lecturer, interrupted
only by occasional cries of " Speak up!" and
"Say it aloud!" from the bystanders. Presently
the orator began again:

"I find that in this matter about the Cabinet-
Makers' Association I have been misinformed.
My friend here" (everybody is a friend with a
mob-orator or field-preacher)—"my friend here
tells me that he is himself in the trade, and that
the field is always open to good workmen. I
am not here to bear false witness against the
cabinet-makers. I have been misinformed, but
it's very strange: I had what I said from good
authority." ("No, no!" from several cabinet-
makers.) " Oh yes, but I had, though; in fact,
I had it from the party himself whose work was
refused." (At this the young man, who was
no doubt innocent of any connexion, with the
affair, became again a point for invidious
observation, and the old mechanic even went beyond
disparaging gestures, and was heard to mutter
to himself, in an oily bass tone, " Ah! he'll come
to no good.")

"Now, with regard to this strike," the
lecturer went on, alluding to that event, the
commencement of which was then in everybody's
mouth, " I must say I have the profoundest
sympathy with the men who organised it." ('' Hear,
hear!" from some very obvious "strikers.")
"If these men are kept beyond their nine hours,
what is to become of their minds? that's what
I ask; what's to become of their education?
what's to become of their self-improvement?"
(Here a group of boys behind the speaker, wishing
probably to express their disapproval of
education in the abstract, and self-improvement
in particular, became so noisy that the orator
was obliged to stop his discourse to call them to
order. He managed, however, to turn the
interruption to account.) " Can't you hold your
row, you boys? I wonder you are not more
respectful, more polite, I may say, than to