"As for the people so-called," quoth Zachariah, "I doubt whether they
are worth saving. Look at the mob we saw the day before yesterday.
I think not of the people. But there is a people, even in these days
of Ahab, whose feet may yet be on the necks of their enemies."

"Why, you are an aristocrat," said Maitland, smiling; "only you want
to abolish the present aristocracy and give us another. You must not
judge us by what you saw in Piccadilly, and while you are still
smarting from that smasher on your eye. London, I grant you, is not,
and never was, a fair specimen. But, even in London, you must not be
deceived. You don't know its real temper; and then, as to not being
worth saving--why, the worse men are the more they want saving.
However, we are both agreed about this--crew, Liverpool, the Prince
Regent, and his friends." A strong word was about to escape before
"crew," but the Major saw that he was in a house where it would be
out of place. "I wish you'd join our Friends of the People. We want
two or three determined fellows like you. We are all safe."

"What are the 'Friends of the People'?"

"Oh, it's a club of--a--good fellows who meet twice a week for a
little talk about affairs. Come with me next Friday and see."

Zachariah hesitated a moment, and then consented.

"All right; I'll fetch you." He was going away, and picked up from
the table a book he had brought with him.

"By the way, you will not be at work till to-morrow. I'll leave you
this to amuse you. It has not been out long. Thirteen thousand