the object of much curiosity among those gathered round, seemed glad that his turn to speak had now come, partly, I think, because (as always) he wanted to be doing something, and partly because he felt a bit nervous about addressing meetings and was anxious 'to get the job done.'
The chair (as so often happens in the case of chairs borrowed for such a purpose) was rather a rickety one, and Morris, having mounted it and feeling his foothold somewhat unsafe, at once dismounted from it with a shrug and a suppressed expletive, declaring he would plant himself on a firmer foundation. He put together a few broken bricks, by way of a foothold on the cinder heap, and began by addressing his hearers as 'Friends and fellow-workers.' How superb he looked, with his broad, blue-clad sturdy figure and his fine tousled head!
I had suggested to him that he might speak on the better days of labour in the olden time, as being a topic likely to engage the interest and sympathy of the crowd a suggestion which he willingly adopted. But he began, as he often did, on a personal note.
'I have addressed you,' he said, 'as "friends and fellow-workers," and I do not do so merely in a complimentary way. You are, I hope, my friends, though I know none of you personally. At any rate I really don't know that I am the enemy of any man or woman in the world, unless they be sheer scoundrels seeking positively to harm other people. I want everybody to be friends and to behave towards one another as real friends always do; that is to say, trying to be happy with one another, and sharing as far as possible every means of making themselves happy. And that, as I shall explain later on if you will listen to me, is just the sum and substance of what Socialism means, which we have come here to preach to you this afternoon. And I call you "fellow workers" because, though I am, as you have just heard, a writer of poetry and such like, and what is called an artist or designer, I nevertheless do a great deal of work with my hands, hard work too, sometimes,
