My benefactor
began by saying he seldom gave advice to anyone, but that it always bore
the hall-mark of high value when he did give it. Then he said this--and
it has never faded from my memory: '_You are far from being a bad
man_--''"
Fifty Voices. "That settles it--the money's Wilson's! Wilson! Wilson!
Speech! Speech!"
People jumped up and crowded around Wilson, wringing his hand and
congratulating fervently--meantime the Chair was hammering with the gavel
and shouting:
"Order, gentlemen! Order! Order! Let me finish reading, please." When
quiet was restored, the reading was resumed--as follows:
"'_Go, and reform--or, mark my words--some day, for your sins you will
die and go to hell or Hadleyburg_--TRY AND MAKE IT THE FORMER.'"
A ghastly silence followed. First an angry cloud began to settle darkly
upon the faces of the citizenship; after a pause the cloud began to rise,
and a tickled expression tried to take its place; tried so hard that it
was only kept under with great and painful difficulty; the reporters, the
Brixtonites, and other strangers bent their heads down and shielded their
faces with their hands, and managed to hold in by main strength and
heroic courtesy.
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