The walls were adorned with more or less striking advertisements of non-alcoholic beverages, and with a few prints from the illustrated papers.

The atmosphere was tobaccoey, and the coffee-shop itself, through which the visitors had to make their way, suggested to the nostrils that bloaters are the working man's chosen delicacy at Sunday tea.

A table just within the door of the lecture-room exposed for sale sundry Socialist publications, the latest issue of the 'Fiery Cross' in particular.
Richard was wont to be among the earliest arrivals: to-night he was full ten minutes behind the hour for which the lecture was advertised.
A group of friends were standing about the table near the door; they received him with a bustle which turned all eyes thitherwards.

He walked up the middle of the room to the platform.

As soon as he was well in the eye of the meeting, a single pair of hands--Daniel Dabbs owned them--gave the signal for uproar; feet made play on the boarding, and one or two of the more enthusiastic revolutionists fairly gave tongue.
Richard seated himself with grave countenance, and surveyed the assembly; from fifty to sixty people were present, among them three or four women, and the number continued to grow.