uncovered by one spontaneous impulse, and, caught in the same wave of feeling, Leacraft sought the invocation of his own blessing on the King and all he stood for. The interrupted speaker began his address. The man was a strong type. His face was somewhat leisurely framed in short whiskers, confined to his cheeks; his eyes were large, blue and unblinking, with a resolute look in them that had the merit of extorting, at least, a respectful recognition; his complexion met all the requirements of the English reputation for color, but it left no impression of having attained its superior brilliancy through less innocent means than exercise and personal care. His broad, high forehead--a little heightened in its expansive effect through the faltering recession of the iron grey hair that stood a little stiffly above it--rose above the admirably firm nose, whose size and contour formed to the reader of physiognomies another compelling admonition to give its wearer the rational allegiance of attention. The man’s voice was musical, with a single intonation that imparted to it much carrying power, and it yielded to certain tendencies of relaxation in speaking that gave it almost a feminine sweetness. Leacraft put him down for a labor leader of a sort, character and design belonging to the best elements of the current labor thought and organization; a man of that impressive stamp in modern adjustments of self-assertion, of which John Burns was so extraordinary an example. He had begun his speech as Leacraft, with insistent zeal, pushed his way deeply toward the centre and margins nearer the stage, of the attentive throng.