"And now, gentlemen, as regards this question of Exports and Imports," chaunted the Tariff Reform expert. "I will give you a few facts—"
"Fictions!" amended a humorous opponent.
At this moment the old gentleman began to read, in a hurried gabble, what Charles Darwin had said in eighteen-seventy-six. The heckler allowed him two minutes, and then suggested cheerfully:—
"And now let's git back to the Erpostle Paul."
And so on. Our friends moved away, for not far off Philip's eye had discerned a familiar figure gesticulating upon a rostrum. It was Brand. He was addressing a considerable crowd, upon the edge of which Philip and Timothy now took their stand. Philip had never seen his colleague out of his overalls before, and was struck with the man's commanding presence and impassioned delivery.
"Life?" shouted Brand. His face was dead white, but his eyes blazed. "Life? What does life mean to you?" He surveyed his audience with profound contempt. "Beer!"
The crowd accepted this bludgeoning in excellent part.
"What do you do with Life?" continued the speaker. "The Life that is left to you when you have worked twelve hours a day for some capitalist, and slept eight more, and spent another two coming and going from your work—your spare time, I mean? How do you employ your Sundays? Do you go and study Nature? Do you read elevatin' literature? Do you cultivate your starving minds? No! What do you do? You can't think of anything better to do than to come here and listen to fools like me! That's the sort of mugs you are!"
This summary of the situation met with hearty endorsement from all parts of the audience.
"But it ain't your fault," continued Brand compassionately. "You haven't ever been taught what it means to enjoy Life. You haven't got the time!" He raised clenched hands to heaven. "Life! Life! It should be beautiful—glorious—sublime! Look round you now! Look at those trees! Listen to that music!"