"Ahem! Ahem! Ahem! Fellow-sufferers, or rather suffering fellows —" ("Don’t call ‘em names!" muttered the man under the window. "I didn’t say felons!" the Chancellor explained.) "You may be sure that I always sympa—" (" ’Ear, ‘ear!" shouted the crowd, so loudly as quite to drown the orator’s thin squeaky voice) " – that I always sympa—" he repeated. ("Don’t simper quite so much!" said the man under the window. "It make yer look a hidiot!" And, all this time, " ‘Ear, ‘ear!" went rumbling round the market-place, like a peal of thunder.) "That I always sympathize!" yelled the Chancellor, the first moment there was silence. "But your true friend is the Sub-Warden! Day and night he is brooding on your wrongs—I should say your rights—that is to say your wrongs—no, I mean your rights—" ("Don’t talk no more!" growled the man under the window. "You’re making a mess of it!") At this moment the Sub-Warden entered the saloon. He was a thin man, with a mean and crafty face, and a greenish-yellow complexion; and he crossed the room very slowly, looking suspiciously about him as if he thought there might be a savage dog hidden somewhere. "Bravo!" he cried, patting the Chancellor on the back. "You did that speech very well indeed. Why, you’re a born orator, man!"
"On, that’s nothing!" The Chancellor replied, modestly, with downcast eyes. "Most orators are born, you know." The Sub-Warden thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Why, so they are!" he admitted. "I never considered in that light. Still, you did it very well. A word in your ear!"
The rest of their conversation was all in whispers.(c)
(Lewis Carroll, Sylvie and Bruno, Chapter 1 “Less Bread! More Taxes!”, L.C. Complete Works, (c) 1982, Arrangement and Design Octopus Books Ltd., page 248)