my first remark fell dead flat.

I have been introduced to audiences as Mossoo, Meshoe, and Mounzeer
O'Reel, and other British adaptations of our word _Monsieur_, and found
it very difficult to bear with equanimity a chairman who maltreated a
name which I had taken some care to keep correctly spelt before the
public. Yet this man is charming when compared with the one who, in the
midst of his introductory remarks, turns to you, and in a stage whisper
perfectly audible all over the hall, asks: "How do you pronounce your
name?"

Passing over chairman chatty and chairman terse, chairman eloquent and
chairman the reverse, I feel decidedly most kindly toward the silent
chairman. He is very rare, but he does exist and, when met with, is
exceedingly precious. Why he exists, in some English Institutes, I have
always been at a loss to imagine. Whether he comes on to see that the
lecturer does not run off before his time is up, or with the water
bottle, which is the only portable thing on the platform generally;
whether he is a successor to some venerable deaf and dumb founder of his
Society; or whether he goes on with the lecturer to give a lesson in
modesty to the public, as who should say: "I could speak an if I would,
but I forbear." Be his _raison d'etre_ what it may, we all love him. To
the nervous novice he is a kind of quiet support, to the old stager he
is as a picture unto the eye and as music unto the ear.

* * * * *

Here I pause. I want to collect my thoughts. Does my memory serve me? Am
I dreaming, or worse still, am I on the point of inventing? No, I could
not invent such a story, it is beyond my power.

I was once lecturing to the students of a religious college in America.
Before I began, a professor stepped forward, and offered a prayer, in
which he asked the Lord to allow the audience to see my points.

Now, I duly feel the weight of responsibility attaching to such a
statement, and in justice to myself I can do no less than give the
reader the petition just as it fell on my astonished ears:

"Lord, Thou knowest that we work hard for Thee, and that recreation is
necessary in order that we may work with renewed vigor. We have to-night
with us a gentleman from France [excuse my recording a compliment too
flattering], whose criticisms are witty and refined, _but subtle_, and
we pray Thee to so prepare our minds that we may thoroughly understand
and enjoy them."

"_But subtle