very humbly paid) lecturer, "we have with us tonight a gentleman"
(here he made an attempt to read my name on a card, failed to read it
and put the card back in his pocket)--"a gentleman who is to lecture
to us on" (here he looked at his card again)--"on Ancient Ancient,--I
don't very well see what it is--Ancient --Britain? Thank you, on
Ancient Britain. Now, this is the first of our series of lectures
for this winter. The last series, as you all know, was not a
success. In fact, we came out at the end of the year with a deficit.
So this year we are starting a new line and trying the experiment of
cheaper talent."

Here the chairman gracefully waved his hand toward me and there
was a certain amount of applause. "Before I sit down," the chairman
added, "I'd like to say that I am sorry to see such a poor turn-out
to-night and to ask any of the members who haven't paid their dollar
to pay it either to me or to Mr. Sibley as they pass out."

Let anybody who knows the discomfiture of coming out before an
audience on any terms, judge how it feels to crawl out in front of
them labelled cheaper talent.

Another charming way in which the chairman endeavours to put both
the speaker for the evening and the audience into an entirely good
humour, is by reading out letters of regret from persons unable to
be present. This, of course, is only for grand occasions when the
speaker has been invited to come under very special auspices. It
was my fate, not long ago, to "appear" (this is the correct word
to use in this connection) in this capacity when I was going about
Canada trying to raise some money for the relief of the Belgians.
I travelled in great glory with a pass on the Canadian Pacific