eeded to give a short address, in which, avoiding all
harshness and bitterness of expression, he strove to leave on his
hearers' hearts the impression that love and nothing else constrained
him and his fellow-workers in the efforts they were using to promote the
spread of temperance in the parish and neighbourhood. The other
speakers followed in the same strain; the working-man being able, in his
rough-and-ready way, to carry with him the great majority of the
meeting, so that a feeble attempt at disturbance from the opponents
proved a decided failure.

But now a strange stir and excitement rustled through the vast assembly
as James Barnes, at the invitation of the vicar, mounted the platform,
and stood unabashed before his fellow-townsmen. But scarcely had he
begun to open his lips when a torrent of yells and shouts burst from a
score or two of drunken throats; others cheered, many laughed, some
shouted; then followed a thunder of clapping and stamping, whistling and
shrieking, and it seemed for a few moments as though the triumph were to
be on the side of disorder and intemperance. But, as a second whirlwind
of uproar was beginning, the vicar again stepped forward, and, raising
his right-hand as begging silence, smiled pleasantly on the excited
crowd, while he placed his left hand on the shoulder of James Barnes,
who stood his ground manfully. Then followed shouts of "Shame,
shame!"--"Sit down!"--"Hold your noise!"--"Hearken Jim!" and the storm
gradually subsided into a calm.

"I'm one of yourselves," began Jim bluntly, as soon as order was
restored, and not in the slightest degree discomposed by this rough
reception; "you shouldn't make such a din. How's a fellow to make
himself heard? Why, it's worse than half a dozen engines all whistling
at once." There was a buzz of amused satisfaction at this professional
illustration, and James Barnes had got the ear of the meeting. "I'll
tell you what it is, friends," he went on; "it's true I ain't much of a
speaker, but I can tell you a thing or two about myself as may be
useful. I've got my Sunday coat on to-night, and it's my own, and it's
never been to the popshop. I couldn't have said that a month ago, for
I'd never a Sunday coat then. Another thing, I'm spending my own wages;
that's more nor I've done for many years past, for the devil's been used
to spend the best part of them for me and put 'em into the landlord's
till. Now I takes 'em to buy bread and clo