The other buried his face in his hands and remained silent for a time. Then, suddenly stretching himself up, he struck his hard fist on the table as he exclaimed:
"Aw tell thi what, Sam. If it wurn't for th' law, aw'd ha' th' little devul stuffed!"
The Rifle Volunteer movement, with its excellent motto, "Defence, not Defiance," has stood the test of time, having proved itself to be not only an ornamental but a useful and even necessary arm of defence, where, in this free country, a levy by conscription would not be tolerated. In its earlier stages, however, it encountered much opposition from many persons, who treated it with ridicule, and took every opportunity of speaking contemptuously of the "Saturday afternoon soldiers." This is well illustrated in a good story told by the late Mr John Bright. Speaking to an old fellow-townsman in Rochdale about the movement at the time of its inception, when corps were being formed throughout the country and enrolment was proceeding briskly:
"Yea," said the old Lancashire man to Mr Bright, "I always knew there wur a lot o' foo's i' this world, but I never knew how to pyke 'em out before!"
Mr Bright himself had a fund of Lancashire humour which came out at times in his speeches. He was also quick at repartee, not always without a touch of acrimony. On one occasion when he was dining with a well-known Manchester citizen the conversation turned on the subject of the growth and development of the United States.
"I should like," said his host, who is an enthusiastic admirer of the great Republic, "I should like to come back fifty years after my death to see what a fine country America has become.'"
"I believe you will be glad of any excuse to come back," was Mr Bright's wicked remark.
One of Disraeli's admirers, in speaking of him to Mr Bright, said:
"You ought to give him credit for what he has accomplished, as he is a self-made man."