iety; oh, just a
word before I sit down. Will all those who are leaving before the end of
the lecture kindly go out through the side door and step as quietly as
possible? Mr. Leacock."

Anybody who is in the lecture business knows that that introduction is
far worse than being called Mr. Learoyd.

When any lecturer goes across to England from this side of the water
there is naturally a tendency on the part of the chairman to play
upon this fact. This is especially true in the case of a Canadian like
myself. The chairman feels that the moment is fitting for one of those
great imperial thoughts that bind the British Empire together. But
sometimes the expression of the thought falls short of the full glory of
the conception.

Witness this (word for word) introduction that was used against me by a
clerical chairman in a quiet spot in the south of England:

"Not so long ago, ladies and gentlemen," said the vicar, "we used to
send out to Canada various classes of our community to help build up
that country. We sent out our labourers, we sent out our scholars and
professors. Indeed we even sent out our criminals. And now," with a wave
of his hand towards me, "they are coming back."

There was no laughter. An English audience is nothing if not literal;
and they are as polite as they are literal. They understood that I was a
reformed criminal and as such they gave me a hearty burst of applause.

But there is just one thing that I would like to chronicle here in
favour of the chairman and in gratitude for his assistance. Even at his
worst he is far better than having no chairman at all. Over in England a
great many societies and public bodies have adopted the plan of "cutting
out the chairman." Wearying of his faults, they have forgotten the
reasons for his existence and undertaken to do without him.

The result is ghastly. The lecturer steps up on to the platform alone
and unaccompanied. There is a feeble ripple of applause; he makes his
miserable bow and explains with as much enthusiasm as he can who he is.
The atmosphere of the thing is so cold that an 'Arctic expedition isn't
in it with it. I found also the further difficulty that in the absence
of the chairman very often the audience, or a large part of it, doesn't
know who the lecturer is. On many occasions I received on appearing a
wild burst of applause under the impression that I was somebody else.
I have been mistaken in this way for Mr. Briand, then Prime Mini