very undevout population. Undevout in the ordinary sense, I mean,
for I had already counted twenty-seven varieties of religious
conviction, including three Buddhists, a Celestial Hierarch, five Latter-
day Saints, and about ten varieties of Mystic whose names I could never
remember. The hall had been the gift of the publisher I have
spoken of, and twice a week it was used for lectures and debates.
The place was managed by a committee and was surprisingly popular,
for it gave all the bubbling intellects a chance of airing their
views. When you asked where somebody was and were told he was
'at Moot,' the answer was spoken in the respectful tone in which
you would mention a sacrament.

I went there regularly and got my mind broadened to cracking
point. We had all the stars of the New Movements. We had Doctor
Chirk, who lectured on 'God', which, as far as I could make out,
was a new name he had invented for himself. There was a woman,
a terrible woman, who had come back from Russia with what she
called a 'message of healing'. And to my joy, one night there was a
great buck nigger who had a lot to say about 'Africa for the
Africans'. I had a few words with him in Sesutu afterwards, and
rather spoiled his visit. Some of the people were extraordinarily
good, especially one jolly old fellow who talked about English folk
songs and dances, and wanted us to set up a Maypole. In the
debates which generally followed I began to join, very coyly at
first, but presently with some confidence. If my time at Biggleswick
did nothing else it taught me to argue on my feet.

The first big effort I made was on a full-dress occasion, when
Launcelot Wake came down to speak. Mr Ivery was in the chair -
the first I had seen of him - a plump middle-aged man, with a