the front, and, in a voice shaking with nervousness and emotion,
began to speak, his large, coarse hands wandering tremulously about.

'Oi hain't no bloomin' temperance horator, and mayhap oi hain't no right
to speak 'ere, but oi got somethin' to saigh (say) and oi'm agoin' to
saigh it.

'Parson, 'ee says is it wisky or no wisky in this 'ere club? If ye
hask me, wich (which) ye don't, then no wisky, says oi; and if ye hask
why?--look at me! Once oi could mine more coal than hany man in the
camp; now oi hain't fit to be a sorter. Once oi 'ad some pride and
hambition; now oi 'angs round awaitin' for some one to saigh, "Ere,
Billy, 'ave summat." Once oi made good paigh (pay), and sent it 'ome
regular to my poor old mother (she's in the wukus now, she is); oi
hain't sent 'er hany for a year and a 'alf. Once Billy was a good fellow
and 'ad plenty o' friends; now Slavin 'isself kicks un hout, 'ee does.
Why? why?' His voice rose to a shriek. 'Because when Billy 'ad money
in 'is pocket, hevery man in this bloomin' camp as meets un at hevery
corner says, "'Ello, Billy, wat'll ye 'ave?" And there's wisky at
Slavin's, and there's wisky in the shacks, and hevery 'oliday and hevery
Sunday there's wisky, and w'en ye feel bad it's wisky, and w'en ye feel
good it's wisky, and heverywhere and halways it's wisky, wisky, wisky!
And now ye're goin' to stop it, and 'ow? T' manager, 'ee says picters
and magazines. 'Ee takes 'is wine and 'is beer like a gentleman, 'ee
does, and 'ee don't 'ave no use for Billy Breen. Billy, 'ee's a beast,
and t' manager, 'ee kicks un hout. But supposin' Billy wants to stop
bein' a beast, and starts a-tryin' to be a man again, and w'en 'ee
gets good an' dry, along comes some un and says, "'Ello, Billy, 'ave a
smile," it hain't picters nor magazines 'ud stop un then. Picters and
magazines! Gawd 'elp the man as hain't nothin' but picters and magazines
to 'elp un w'en 'ee's got a devil hinside and a devil houtside a-shovin'
and a-drawin' of un down to 'ell. And that's w'ere oi'm a-goin'
straight, and yer bloomin' League, wisky or no wisky, can't help me.
But,' and he lifted his trembling hands above his head, 'if ye stop the
wisky a-flowin' round this camp, ye'll stop some of these lads that's
a-followin' me 'ard. Yes, you! and you! and you!' and his voice rose to
a wild scream as he shook a trembling finger at one and another.

'Man, it's fair gruesome tae hear him,' said Geordie; 'he's no' canny';
and reaching