preoccupied and disturbed with some local happening and who comes
on to the platform with a face imprinted with distress. Before
introducing the lecturer he refers in moving tones to the local
sorrow, whatever it is. As a prelude to a humorous lecture this is
not gay.

Such a chairman fell to my lot one night before a gloomy audience
in a London suburb. "As I look about this hall to-night," he began
in a doleful whine, "I see many empty seats." Here he stifled a
sob. "Nor am I surprised that a great many of our people should
prefer to-night to stay quietly at home--"

I had no clue to what he meant. I merely gathered that some particular
sorrow must have overwhelmed the town that day.

"To many it may seem hardly fitting that after the loss our town
has sustained we should come out here to listen to a humorous
lecture,--", "What's the trouble?" I whispered to a citizen sitting
beside me on the platform.

"Our oldest resident"--he whispered back --"he died this morning."

"How old?"

"Ninety-four," he whispered.

Meantime the chairman, with deep sobs in his voice, continued:

"We debated in our committee whether or not we should have the
lecture. Had it been a lecture of another character our position