masterful disciplinarian, moulded in war and accustomed to no other means of solving human problems than war; he it was who reaped the dragon’s-teeth harvest sown by tongue-bravery: he seized all the glory and place and fortune that the mob-spaniels had thought within their grasp. Some of their ancient folk-maxims embodied this experience: The breath of the demagogue blows the warrior to his fortune; The mouth of the orator is the banqueting-chamber of the soldier; Tempests of eloquence and torrents of blood; Spout, vain tongue, you invite your tyrant; Sow a country with the teeth of haranguers and they will come up the swords of despots; Loquacity is eaten up by her son pugnacity. In spite of the fear of the art indicated in such folklore, it continued to flourish; for the upper classes, who delighted in war, flattered themselves that they would ever be the best orators, and it is the inevitable tendency of human nature to run to tongue. Not till the age of unbridled freedom of speech did they begin to change their opinions. Then were they easily outfaced and out-harangued by any idler of the poverty-stricken districts. Even in their own assemblies they were no match for the spouters from the slums; with all their high-toned irony and scornful superiority, they were beaten into silence at the public palavers; they were mere stammerers beside the glib orators of the unwashed. This age of tongue-exploits was naturally an age of single ideas, too. When their energy had gone into speech, they had none left for thoughts. One-idea crusades became the order of the day. Every tongue-quixote had his scheme wherewith he would sweep all evils out of life. He was so enamoured of his own that he could not bear to listen to any other. And therein lay safety. But there came a time when the wordy bravos joined forces; one vast socialistic scheme included all theirs. The institutions of the island were to be wiped out, and something undefined that was to make men equal and prosperous and happy was to be put in their place. Their tongues now wagged in unison with wonderful velocity. Each was still for his own special constructive scheme, but they were at one in their scheme of demolition; they must have a clear space to build on, and their ideal was the same, to make all equal and happy. The babel of eloquence drowned the sounds of other industry. Another revolution was almost within earshot.