ten minutes," or whatever time he requires. Then those who cannot wait
so long will at once withdraw, the rest will settle down to listen and
harmony will be restored.

But woe to the speaker who forgets his pledge and thinks he may take
advantage of that restored quiet to go beyond the time he stated. Next
time he speaks before that audience and they become restless he will
have no remedy.

It is better to have your hearers say, "I could have listened another
hour," than "It would have been better if he had finished by ten
o'clock."

CHAPTER X

CHAIRMAN

Lecturers learn by experience that the chairman question may become at
times a very trying problem.

Many a meeting has been spoiled by an impossible chairman, and the
lecturer who wishes to have his work produce the best result will always
keep a keen eye on the chair, though, of course, he should not appear to
do so.

The functions of the chairman are mainly two: To introduce the speaker,
and to decide points of procedure. The latter function is only necessary
in delegate gatherings where all present have the right to participate.
The former applies where a speaker is visiting a town and is a stranger
to many in his audience.

In this case, when the chairman has told the audience who the speaker
is, where he comes from, what his subject will be, the occasion and
auspices of the meeting, his work is done, and the chairman who at this
point leaves the platform and takes a seat in the front row, should be
presented with a medal of unalloyed gold and his name should be recorded
in the municipal archives as an example to the lecture chairmen of
future generations.

How often has one seen a chairman during the lecture, conscious that he
is in full view of the audience, crossing his legs, first one way, then
the other, trying a dozen different ways of disposing of his hands with
becoming grace, fumbling with his watch chain, looking at his watch as
if the speaker had already overstepped his time, looking nervously at
his program as if something of enormous importance had been forgotten,
and doing a dozen similar things, most of them unconsciously, but none
the less continuously diverting the attention of the audience from the
speaker and his speech.

How pleasantly do I recall the chairman who came to my hotel and asked
me to write him a two-minute speech, which he committed to memory, but
promptly forgot before a crowded opera house and substituted fo