d the first of a series of lectures by
leading professors of the Dryasdust species.

Nor does the subsequent cross-examination by the parents enhance in the
youthful idea the pleasure of being lectured to.

In boyhood's days the student has to attend his lectures, and when they
are over he rejoices accordingly; but what about the lectures in after
life? Although I have given many of these latter myself, I cannot say
that my experience as one of the audience has been very extensive, as I
have only heard one or two. The first I heard was delivered by Professor
Herkomer some years ago. The subject interested me, as I thought I knew
more about it than the lecturer himself, and Herkomer's delivery was
particularly good, but it was a "lecture" in the strict sense of the
word. We were scolded, and went away like whipped boys. When I stood on
that identical platform a few years afterwards _I_ scolded everybody--it
is the duty of the lecturer to do so.

A lecturer must be a personage altogether superior--this is essential.
If he does not possess this attribute, he must assume it. Modesty is
ineffective; mock-modesty is distasteful; you must instruct your
audience. The commonest platitudes will serve if you call it a
"lecture," and address them to an audience as if they were a lot of
school children.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

When a lecture-entertainment has been written, the question then is how
to deliver it. Now, with the exception of returning thanks for "art" or
"literature" or for "the visitors" now and then at a City banquet, I was
quite unaccustomed to public speaking. A friend of mine suggested I
should take lessons in elocution from "one of those actor fellows." "It
is not what you say but how you say it," he said to me. "Indeed!" I
replied, rather nettled. "Matthew Arnold had a wretched delivery, and I
think there was something in what he said." "True, but you are not a
Matthew Arnold, nor I should say a George Dawson either. So take lessons
in elocution, my boy, and save yourself and your audience." Therefore,
modestly I went to consult a professor of elocution with my lecture in
my pocket, feeling very much as I did when I first walked to school, or
to my first editor with my youthful artistic attempts. I had, by the
way, attended an elocution class and a drawing class in my school days,
but no boy was expected to learn anything from either.

It is curious to notice how parents willingly subscribe to t