"Where's that?" cried one, interrupting the other.
"'Where's that,' Bill?" echoed Mr. Bartholomew. "It ain't a 'where' at all; it's a who. Coriolanus was a great general; and when the institution is formed, which we have met to-night to form, I hope you'll read about him in William Shakespeare; for what we're going to have in that institution, besides other things that's got to be settled, is books, mates."
"A little idea just comes to my mind. There's a good number of men in the world pretty much like boxes, shut up tight, locked up tighter. We're going to open those boxes; we're going to unlock 'em; we're goin' to let panes of glass into 'em, that the light can be seen through."
"Bravo! bravo! bravo!" from all parts of the room.
"Because, mates, don't you make any mistake. The fault doesn't lie with the ladies and gentlemen I made mention of a minute or two ago, it lies with us; and if we don't help ourselves--constitutionally, mind--we can't expect anybody else to help us. _They're_ not wrong. I don't blame 'em, much"--and there was a touch of humor in his manner of uttering this small word which caused general laughter--"I blame ourselves. I was saying that every man has the regulation number of limbs and members, the regulation measure of appetite, the regulation instincts, sentiments, and all that sort of thing, and I was going to say, when I was interrupted, that you'll find something in Coriolanus about the stomach which rather bears upon the point. I dare say there are one or two in the room who'll remember my mentioning this at a meeting before the last general election, when I spoke against the Conservative candidate. It was a Conservative meeting, and the hall was pretty well packed with one-siders, but the candidate--a gentleman, mates--got me a fair hearing, and I was listened to. Yes, you were there, and you"--pointing to two in the room who nodded gravely. "Well, when I'd done about this Coriolanus and the stomach business, up gets the Conservative candidate and says: 'I don't for a moment doubt that our good friend, Mr. Bartholomew'--he knew my name; I handed it up to him on paper, not having an engraved card--"
Mr. Bartholomew looked severely in that direction, and said: