. . . In the meantime the cry was 'Democratic
Capitalism.' That was the name Mutimer gave to his scheme! The
'Fiery Gross' had only noticed his work in a brief paragraph, a few
words of faint and vague praise. 'Our comrade's noteworthy exertions
in the East End. . . . The gain to temperance and self-respecting
habits which must surely result. . . .' The 'Beacon,' however, dealt
with the movement more fully, and on the whole in a friendly spirit.
'Damn their patronage!' cried Mutimer.
You should have seen him addressing a crowd collected by chance in
Hackney or Poplar. The slightest encouragement, even one name to
inscribe in the book which he carried about with him, was enough to
fire his eloquence; nay, it was enough to find himself standing on
his chair above the heads of the gathering. His voice had gained in
timbre; he grew more and more perfect in his delivery, like a
conscientious actor who plays night after night in a part that he
enjoys. And it was well that he had this inner support, this _brio_
of the born demagogue, for often enough he spoke under circumstances
which would have damped the zeal of any other man. The listeners
stood with their hands in their pockets, doubting whether to hear
him to the end or to take their wonted way to the public-house.
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