He spoke on rapidly, but he could not get into his stride. The trivial
interruption had broken the spell. His words lacked grip. The dead
silence in which the first part of his speech had been received, that
silence which is a greater tribute to the speaker than any applause,
had given place to a restless medley of little noises; here a cough;
there a scraping of a boot along the floor, as its wearer moved
uneasily in his seat; in another place a whispered conversation. The
audience was bored.

Mr Bickersdyke left the Navy, and went on to more general topics. But
he was not interesting. He quoted figures, saw a moment later that he
had not quoted them accurately, and instead of carrying on boldly, went
back and corrected himself.

'Gow up top!' said a voice at the back of the hall, and there was a
general laugh.

Mr Bickersdyke galloped unsteadily on. He condemned the Government. He
said they had betrayed their trust.

And then he told an anecdote.

'The Government, gentlemen,' he said, 'achieves nothing worth
achieving, and every individual member of the Government takes all the
credit for what is done to himself. Their methods remind me, gentlemen,
of an amusing experience I had while fishing one summer in the Lake
District.'

In a volume entitled 'Three Men in a Boat' there is a story of how the