“A working man in the meeting said, ‘Sir, it is our chapel and we ought to pay for it ourselves. It is well known that our brother whose daughters have been flooding the land with begging letters could, if he would, write a cheque for the whole amount of the debt. The place has been built in accordance with his wish, and I for one hope he will see his way to give instead of beg.’ “Mr. Shelve, a gentleman in the middle of the room, next arose with a beaming smile upon his countenance. ‘I, sir,’ he said, ‘am the bearer of good news. Like our friend Mr. Smith, I have written a few letters, and in response to one of these I have received this cheque for one hundred pounds, which I have much pleasure in presenting in the name of the giver.’ “Very loud applause followed this announcement, and then a man asked, in a quiet voice, ‘Will Mr. Shelve kindly give us the name of the generous friend?’ “‘Certainly,’ was the reply. ‘The munificent gift is from Mr. William Quellset.’ “‘Then,’ said the questioner, who was still on his feet, ‘I beg to propose that we respectfully return this cheque to the sender. Mr. William Quellset can well afford to give a hundred pounds to this chapel, and he is anxious to stand well with the people of this neighbourhood, whom he intends, if possible, to represent in Parliament. But no blessing could go with any amount of money from such a man.’ “There was some interruption, and the speaker corrected himself. ‘I beg pardon; I know nothing of the personal character of Mr. Quellset. I will therefore change the form of my words and say, No blessing could go with money made as he makes his. I suppose everybody knows that he is the patentee of those lozenges which are so attractive that probably the wives and daughters of nine-tenths of the men present are eating them every day—the lozenges to which he has not given the name of opium, but which have done more than anything else to make opium-eating universal amongst us. As our Government grows opium, and is anxious to sell it, it has contented itself, as you know, with imposing a duty on Mr. Quellset’s articles, and many a statesman quiets his conscience in regard to this growing evil by telling himself that the country is enriched by this increase to its revenue. Sir, the country is being ruined by it. The drink has slain its thousands and opium is slaying its tens of thousands. Mr. Quellset has found out how to make it palatable, and he has grown enormously rich; but surely, sir, we do not now live in days when men think they can purchase pardon and heaven by presenting to the Church a small part of their ill-gotten gains. I hope there may be found some one to second my proposition.’