without reason, are probably animated by a violent instinct of
destruction. I believe, however, that the power of their 'jaw' is
unsurpassed."

Then, amid shouts of laughter and applause, he sat down again,
leaving the field to the much discomfited Mr. Randolph.

Much harm had been done that evening to the cause of Christianity.
The sympathies of the audience could not be with the weak and
unmannerly Mr. Randolph; they were Englishmen, and were, of course,
inclined to side with the man who had been unjustly dealt with,
who, moreover, had really spoken to them--had touched their very
hearts.

The field was practically lost when, to the surprise of all,
another speaker came forward. Erica, who knew that their side had
had the best of it, felt a thrill of admiration when she saw
Charles Osmond move slowly to the front of the platform. She was
very tired, but out of a sort of gratitude for his friendliness, a
readiness to do him honor, she strained her energies to take down
his speech verbatim. It was not a long one, it was hardly,
perhaps, to be called a speech at all, it was rather as if the man
had thrown his very self into the breach made by the unhappy
wrangle of the evening.

He spoke of the universal brotherhood and of the wrong done to it
by bitterness and strife; he stood there as the very incarnation of
brotherliness, and the people, whether they agreed with him or not,
loved him. In the place where the religion of Christ had been
reviled as well by the Christians as by the atheist, he spoke of