tfalls of the city.

Near the end of the King's Road he remembered his brandy and soda, and
entered a flaunting public-house. A good many persons were present, a
waterman from a cab-stand, half a dozen of the chronically unemployed, a
gentleman (in one corner) trying to sell aesthetic photographs out of
a leather case to another and very youthful gentleman with a yellow
goatee, and a pair of lovers debating some fine shade (in the other).
But the centre-piece and great attraction was a little old man, in a
black, ready-made surtout, which was obviously a recent purchase. On
the marble table in front of him, beside a sandwich and a glass of
beer, there lay a battered forage cap. His hand fluttered abroad with
oratorical gestures; his voice, naturally shrill, was plainly tuned to
the pitch of the lecture room; and by arts, comparable to those of
the Ancient Mariner, he was now holding spellbound the barmaid, the
waterman, and four of the unemployed.

'I have examined all the theatres in London,' he was saying; 'and pacing
the principal entrances, I have ascertained them to be ridiculously
disproportionate to the requirements of their audiences. The doors
opened the wrong way--I forget at this moment which it is, but have a
note of it at home; they were frequently locked during the performance,
and when the auditorium was literally thronged with English people. You
have probably not had my opportunities of comparing distant lands; but
I can assure you this has been long ago recognized as a mark
of aristocratic government. Do you suppose, in a country really
self-governed, such abuses could exist? Your own intelligence, however
uncultivated, tells you they could not. Take Austria, a country even
possibly more enslaved than England. I have myself conversed with one of
the survivors of the Ring Theatre, and though his colloquial German
was not very good, I succeeded in gathering a pretty clear idea of his
opinion of the case. But, what will perhaps interest you still more,
here is a cutting on the subject from a Vienna newspaper, which I will
now read to you, translating as I go. You can see for yourselves; it
is printed in the German character.' And he held the cutting out for
verification, much as a conjuror passes a trick orange along the front
bench.

'Hullo, old gentleman! Is this you?' said Michael, laying his hand upon
the orator's shoulder.

The figure turned with a convulsion of alarm, and showed the countenance