Shirley

his demure face and cat-like, trustless eyes, than by a wooden leg and stout crutch: there was a kind of leer about his lips, he seemed laughing in his sleeve at some person or thing, his whole air was anything but that of a true man.
    »Good-morning, Mr. Barraclough,« said Moore debonnairly, for him.
    »Peace be unto you!« was the answer: Mr. Barraclough entirely closing his naturally half-shut eyes as he delivered it.
    »I'm obliged to you: peace is an excellent thing; there's nothing I more wish for myself; but that is not all you have to say to me, I suppose? I imagine peace is not your purpose?«
    »As to our purpose,« began Barraclough, »it's one that may sound strange, and perhaps foolish to ears like yours, for the childer of this world is wiser in their generation than the childer of light.«
    »To the point, if you please, and let me hear what it is.«
    »Ye'se hear, sir; if I cannot get it off, there's eleven be-hint can help me. It is a grand purpose, and (changing his voice from a half-sneer to a whine) it's the Looard's own purpose, and that's better.«
    »Do you want a subscription to a new Ranter's chapel, Mr. Barraclough? Unless your errand be something of that sort, I cannot see what you have to do with it.«
    »I hadn't that duty on my mind, sir; but as Providence has led ye to mention the subject, I'll make it i' my way to tak' ony trifle ye may have to spare, the smallest contribution will be acceptable.«
    With that he doffed his hat, and held it out as a begging-box; a brazen grin at the same time crossing his countenance.
    »If I gave you sixpence, you would drink it.«
    Barraclough uplifted the palms of his hands and the whites of his eyes, evincing in the gesture a mere burlesque of hypocrisy.
    »You seem a fine fellow,« said Moore, quite coolly and drily; »you don't care for showing me that you are a double-dyed hypocrite, that your trade is fraud: you expect indeed to make me laugh at the cleverness with which you play your coarsely farcical part, while at the same time you think you are deceiving the men behind you.«
    Moses' countenance lowered; he saw he had gone too far: he was going to answer, when the second leader, impatient of being hitherto kept in the background, stepped forward. This man did not look like a traitor, though he had an exceedingly self-confident and conceited air.
    »Mr. Moore,« commenced he, speaking also in his throat and nose, and enunciating each word very slowly, as if with a view to giving his audience time to appreciate fully the uncommon elegance of the phraseology; »it might, perhaps, justly be said that reason rather than peace is our purpose. We come, in the first place, to request you to hear reason, and should
you
refuse, it is my duty to warn
you,
in very decided terms, that measures will be had resort to (he meant recourse), which will probably terminate in – in bringing you to a sense of the unwisdom, of the – the foolishness, which seems to guide and guard your perceedings as a tradesman in this – this manufacturing part of the country. Hem! ... sir, I would beg to allude that as a furriner, coming from a distant coast, another quarter and hemisphere of this globe, thrown, as I may say, a perfect outcast on these shores – the cliffs of Albion – you have not that understanding of huz and wer ways which might conduce to the benefit of the working-classes. If, to come at once to partic'lars, you'd consider to give up this here miln, and go without further protractions straight home to where you belong, it 'ud happen be as well. I can see naught ageean such a plan. What hev ye to say tull't, lads?« turning round to the other members of the deputation, who responded unanimously, »Hear! hear!«
    »Brayvo, Noah o' Tim's!« murmured Joe Scott, who stood behind Mr. Moore. »Moses'll niver beat that – Cliffs o' Albion, and t'other hemisphere! my certy! Did ye come fro' th' Antarctic Zone, maister? Moses is dished.«
    Moses, however, refused to be dished; he thought he would try again. Casting a somewhat ireful glance at »Noah o' Tim's,« he launched out in his turn: and now he spoke in a serious tone, relinquishing the sarcasm which he found had not answered.
    »Or iver you set up the pole o' your tent amang us, Mr. Moore, we lived i' peace and quietness; yea, I may say, in all loving-kindness. I am not myself an aged person as yet, but I can remember as far back as maybe some twenty year, when hand-labour were encouraged and