o say upon it at each
meeting with his friends, and they wondered where he got the imagination
to construct his telling phrases and specious, virulent arguments.

We have all wondered at such men. They are the outcome of this age and
of no previous time, as it is also to be hoped that their like may not
arise hereafter. They are found everywhere, these agitators, with their
excited faces, their nervous utterances, and their furious hatred of all
that is. They find their way into the parliaments of the world, into the
dining-rooms of the rich, into the wine-shops of the working men, into
the press even, and some of their works are published by great houses
and read by great ladies, if not by great men. Suddenly, when we least
expect it, a flaming advertisement announces a fiery tirade against all
that the great mass of mankind hold in honour, if not in reverence.
Curiosity drives thousands to read what is an insult to humanity, and
even though the many are disgusted, some few are found to admire a
rhetoric which exalts their own ignorance to the right of judging God.
And still the few increase and grow to be a root and send out shoots and
creepers like an evil plant, so that grave men say among themselves that
if there is to be a universal war in our times or hereafter it will be
fought by Christians of all denominations defending themselves against
those who are not Christians.

Marzio sat long at his table, and his modest pint of wine was enough to
moisten his throat throughout the time during which he held forth. When
the liquor was finished he rose, took down his overcoat from the peg on
which it hung, pushed his soft hat over his eyes, and with a sort of
triumphant wave of the hand, saluted his friends and left the room. He
was a perfectly sober man, and no power would have induced him to
overstep the narrow limit he allowed to his taste. Indeed, he did not
care for wine itself, and still less for any excitement it produced in
his brain. He ordered his half-litre as a matter of respect for the
house, as he called it, and it served to wet his throat while he was
talking. Water would have done as well. Consumed by the intensity of his
hatred for the things he attacked, he needed no stimulant to increase
his exaltation.

When he was gone, there was silence in the room for some few minutes.
Then the journalist burst into a loud laugh.

"If we only had half a dozen fellows like that in the Chambers, all
talking at on