automatic machine, which eagerly absorbed pennies but produced no
corresponding chocolate, and a small paper-stall with a few remaining
copies of a cheap imperial organ which we will call the Daily Wire.
It does not matter which imperial organ it was, as they all say
the same thing.

Though I knew it quite well already, I read it with gravity as I
strolled out of the station and up the country road. It opened with
the striking phrase that the Radicals were setting class against class.
It went on to remark that nothing had contributed more to make our
Empire happy and enviable, to create that obvious list of glories
which you can supply for yourself, the prosperity of all classes
in our great cities, our populous and growing villages, the success
of our rule in Ireland, etc., etc., than the sound Anglo-Saxon
readiness of all classes in the State "to work heartily hand-in-hand."
It was this alone, the paper assured me, that had saved us from
the horrors of the French Revolution. "It is easy for the Radicals,"
it went on very solemnly, "to make jokes about the dukes.
Very few of these revolutionary gentlemen have given to the poor one half
of the earnest thought, tireless unselfishness, and truly Christian
patience that are given to them by the great landlords of this country.
We are very sure that the English people, with their sturdy
common sense, will prefer to be in the hands of English gentlemen
rather than in the miry claws of Socialistic buccaneers."

Just when I had reached this point I nearly ran into a man.
Despite the populousness and growth of our villages, he appeared
to be the only man for miles, but the road up which I had wandered
turned and narrowed with equal abruptness, and I nearly knocked him
off the gate on which he was leaning. I pulled up to apologize,