for fifteen years and, though I don't say it in any spirit of
boasting, it has not been an easy thing to do. It has required a good
deal of pretty hard spade work by the committee. Well, ladies and
gentlemen, I suppose you didn't come here to listen to me and perhaps
I have said enough about our difficulties and troubles. So without
more ado (this is always a favourite phrase with chairmen) I'll
invite Mr. Leacock to address the society; oh, just a word before I
sit down. Will all those who are leaving before the end of the
lecture kindly go out through the side door and step as quietly as
possible? Mr. Leacock."

Anybody who is in the lecture business knows that that introduction
is far worse than being called Mr. Learoyd.


When any lecturer goes across to England from this side of the
water there is naturally a tendency on the part of the chairman to
play upon this fact. This is especially true in the case of a
Canadian like myself. The chairman feels that the moment is fitting
for one of those great imperial thoughts that bind the British
Empire together. But sometimes the expression of the thought falls
short of the full glory of the conception.

Witness this (word for word) introduction that was used against me
by a clerical chairman in a quiet spot in the south of England:

"Not so long ago, ladies and gentlemen," said the vicar, "we used to
send out to Canada various classes of our community to help build up
that country. We sent out our labourers, we sent out our scholars and
professors. Indeed we even sent out our criminals. And now," with a