E LECTURE-FIELD

My most dramatic experience occurred in a city in Michigan, where I was
making a temperance campaign. It was an important lumber and shipping
center, and it harbored much intemperance. The editor of the leading
newspaper was with the temperance-workers in our fight there, and he had
warned me that the liquor people threatened to "burn the building over
my head" if I attempted to lecture. We were used to similar threats,
so I proceeded with my preparations and held the meeting in the town
skating-rink--a huge, bare, wooden structure.

Lectures were rare in that city, and rumors of some special excitement
on this occasion had been circulated; every seat in the rink was filled,
and several hundred persons stood in the aisles and at the back of the
building. Just opposite the speaker's platform was a small gallery, and
above that, in the ceiling, was a trap-door. Before I had been speaking
ten minutes I saw a man drop through this trap-door to the balcony and
climb from there to the main floor. As he reached the floor he shouted
"Fire!" and rushed out into the street. The next instant every person
in the rink was up and a panic had started. I was very sure there was
no fire, but I knew that many might be killed in the rush which was
beginning. So I sprang on a chair and shouted to the people with the
full strength of my lungs:

"There is no fire! It's only a trick! Sit down! Sit down!"

The cooler persons in the crowd at once began to help in this calming
process.

"Sit down!" they repeated. "It's all right! There's no fire! Sit down!"

It looked as if we had the situation in hand, for the people hesitated,
and most of them grew quiet; but just then a few words were hissed up to
me that made my heart stop beating. A member of our local committee was
standing beside my chair, speaking in a terrified whisper:

"There IS a fire, Miss Shaw," he said. "For God's sake get the people
out--QUICKLY!"

The shock was so unexpected that my knees almost gave way. The people
were still standing, wavering, looking uncertainly toward us. I raised
my voice again, and if it sounded unnatural my hearers probably thought
it was because I was speaking so loudly.

"As we are already standing," I cried, "and are all nervous, a little
exercise will do us good. So march out, singing. Keep time to the music!
Later you can come back and take your seats!"

The man who had whispered the warning jumped into the aisle and stru