ser. Long Poker showed that
he had not dabbled in newspapers without fishing up and retaining a vast
amount of miscellaneous knowledge. Jim Brown roused the meeting to a
pitch of enthusiasm almost equal to his own. Little Grigs made stinging
remarks all round, and chaffed little Pax with evident delight. Macnab
disputed with everybody. Sandy Tod argued and objected more or less to
everything, while Tom Blunter, Jim Scroggins, Limp Letherby, Fat
Collins, and Bobby Sprat, lent more or less effectual fire to the
debate. Big Jack did not speak much. He preferred, as he said, to form
a large audience, but, if he might be permitted to offer an opinion,
would suggest that less talk and more action might facilitate the
despatch of business, and that they ought to try to emulate the House of
Commons by allowing a little common sense to mingle with their
discussions.

As for Peter Pax, he assumed the _role_ of peacemaker-general. When the
debaters seemed to be getting too warm, he rose to order; and, in a calm
dignified manner, commented on the conduct of the disputants with such
ineffable insolence as to draw down their wrath on his devoted head--to
the great delight of the other members. Thus he threw oil on the
troubled waters, and, generally, kept the meeting lively.

Finally, the laws of the Pegaway Literary Association were fixed, the
plan of meetings was arranged, and the whole thing fairly started.

The society worked well for a time, but after the various members had
done their best, as Pax said, to keep the pot boiling, it was felt and
suggested that they should seek a little aid from without. A reading or
a lecture was proposed, seconded, and carried. Then came the question
who should be asked to read or lecture. Macnab proposed that their
chairman should endeavour to procure a lecturer, and report to next
meeting. Sandy Tod objected, and proposed a committee to consider the
subject. Phil Maylands said he had anticipated the demand, and had
already secured the promise of a lecturer--if the members chose to
accept him.

"Name! name!" cried several voices.

"Our excellent landlord, Solomon Flint," said Phil. "You all know his
admirable powers of memory, and his profound knowledge of men and things
(`At least if you don't, you ought to,' from Pax), and you may be sure
he'll give us something good."

"And proverbial," added little Grigs.

"Ay, Flint will certainly strike fire out of whatever he tackl