rs, and when he wound up with an earnest appeal to
them--as working men--to vote for Adam Sweater, their enthusiasm knew
no bounds.

'I've seen him somewhere before,' remarked Barrington, who was standing
in the crowd with Harlow, Owen and Easton.

'So have I,' said Owen, with a puzzled expression. 'But for the life
of me, I can't remember where.'

Harlow and Easton also thought they had seen the man before, but their
speculations were put an end to by the roar of cheering that heralded
the arrival of the motor car, containing Adam Sweater and his friend,
Lord Ammenegg. Unfortunately, those who had arranged the meeting had
forgotten to provide a pair of steps, so Sweater found it a matter of
considerable difficulty to mount the platform. However, while his
friends were hoisting and pushing him up, the meeting beguiled the time
by singing:

'Vote, vote, vote for Adam Sweater.'

After a terrible struggle they succeeded in getting him on to the cart,
and while he was recovering his wind, Rushton made a few remarks to the
crowd. Sweater then advanced to the front, but in consequence of the
cheering and singing, he was unable to make himself heard for several
minutes.

When at length he was able to proceed, ho made a very clever speech--it
had been specially written for him and had cost ten guineas. A large
part of it consisted of warnings against the dangers of Socialism.
Sweater had carefully rehearsed this speech and he delivered it very
effectively. Some of those Socialists, he said, were well-meaning but
mistaken people, who did not realize the harm that would result if
their extraordinary ideas were ever put into practice. He lowered his
voice to a blood-curdling stage whisper as he asked:

'What is this Socialism that we hear so much about, but which so few
understand? What is it, and what does it mean?'

Then, raising his voice till it rang through the air and fell upon the
ears of the assembled multitude like the clanging of a funeral bell, he
continued:

'It is madness! Chaos! Anarchy! It means Ruin! Black Ruin for the
rich, and consequently, of course, Blacker Ruin still for the poor!'

As Sweater paused, a thrill of horror ran through the meeting. Men
wearing broken boots and with patches upon the seats and knees, and
ragged fringes round the bottoms of the legs of their trousers, grew
pale, and glanced apprehensively at each other. If ever Socialism did
come to pass, they evid