again, and can go back to the village and make more moral speeches and
be happy.

Moral speeches are undoubtedly his leading article, and of these, it
must be owned, he has an inexhaustible stock. He is as chock-full of
noble sentiments as a bladder is of wind. They are weak and watery
sentiments of the sixpenny tea-meeting order. We have a dim notion
that we have heard them before. The sound of them always conjures up
to our mind the vision of a dull long room, full of oppressive
silence, broken only by the scratching of steel pens and an occasional
whispered "Give us a suck, Bill. You know I always liked you;" or a
louder "Please, sir, speak to Jimmy Boggles. He's a-jogging my
elbow."

The stage hero, however, evidently regards these meanderings as gems
of brilliant thought, fresh from the philosophic mine.

The gallery greets them with enthusiastic approval. They are a
warm-hearted people, galleryites, and they like to give a hearty
welcome to old friends.

And then, too, the sentiments are so good and a British gallery is so
moral. We doubt if there could be discovered on this earth any body
of human beings half so moral--so fond of goodness, even when it is
slow and stupid--so hateful of meanness in word or deed--as a modern
theatrical gallery.

The early Christian martyrs were sinful and worldly compared with an
Adelphi gallery.