ly vacant, he
remained motionless, looking at me, and for an hour and twenty minutes
seemed to say to me: "My poor fellow, you may do what you like, but you
won't 'fetch' me to-night, I can tell you." I looked at him, I spoke to
him, I winked at him, I aimed at him; several times even I paused so as
to give him ample time to see a point. All was in vain. I had just
returned, after the lecture, to the secretary's room behind the
platform, when he entered.

"Oh, that man again!" I cried, pointing to him.

He advanced toward me, took my hand, and said:

"Thank you very much for your excellent lecture, I have enjoyed it very
much."

"Have you?" said I.

[Illustration: THE OLD GENTLEMAN WHO WILL NOT SMILE.]

"Would you be kind enough to give me your autograph?" And he pulled out
of his pocket a beautiful autograph book.

"Well," I said to the secretary in a whisper, "this old gentleman is
extremely kind to ask for my autograph, for I am certain he has not
enjoyed my lecture."

"What makes you think so?"

"Why, he never smiled once."

"Oh, poor old gentleman," said the secretary; "he is stone deaf."

Many a lecturer must have met this man.

It would be unwise, when you discover that certain members of the
audience will not laugh, to give them up at once. As long as you are on
the platform there is hope.

I was once lecturing in the chief town of a great hunting center in
England. On the first row sat half a dozen hair-parted-in-the-middle,
single-eye-glass young swells. They stared at me unmoved, and never
relaxed a muscle except for yawning. It was most distressing to see how
the poor fellows looked bored. How I did wish I could do something for
them! I had spoken for nearly an hour when, by accident, I upset the
tumbler on my table. The water trickled down the cloth. The young men
laughed, roared. They were happy and enjoying themselves, and I had
"fetched" them at last. I have never forgotten this trick, and when I
see in the audience an apparently hopeless case, I often resort to it,
generally with success.

* * * * *

There are other people who do not much enjoy your lecture: your own.

[Illustration: THE CHAPPIES WHO WOULD NOT LAUGH.]

Of course you must forgive your wife. The dear creature knows all your
lectures by heart; she has heard your jokes hundreds of times. She comes
to your lectures rather to see how you are going to be received than to
listen to you. Besi