isement was inserted in
the papers. This manager later gave his opinion that, as a lecturer, I
was good, but that as a man, I was a little bit "stuck-up."

When you arrive in an American town to lecture, you find the place
flooded with your pictures, huge lithographs stuck on the walls, on the
shop windows, in your very hotel entrance hall. Your own face stares at
you everywhere, you are recognized by everybody. You have to put up with
it. If you love privacy, peace, and quiet, don't go to America on a
lecturing tour. That is what your impresario will tell you.

* * * * *

In each town where you go, you have a local manager to "boss the show";
as he has to pay you a certain fee, which he guarantees, you cannot find
fault with him for doing his best to have a large audience. He runs
risks; you do not. Suppose, for instance, you are engaged, not by a
society for a fee, but by a manager on sharing terms, say sixty per
cent. of the gross receipts for you and forty for himself. Suppose his
local expenses amount to $200; he has to bring $500 into the house
before there is a cent for himself. You must forgive him if he goes
about the place beating the big drum. If you do not like it, there is a
place where you can stay--home.

* * * * *

An impresario once asked me if I required a piano, and if I would bring
my own accompanist. Another wrote to ask the subject of my
"entertainment."

[Illustration: AS SANDY.]

I wrote back to say that my lecture was generally found entertaining,
but that I objected to its being called an entertainment. I added that
the lecture was composed of four character sketches, viz., John Bull,
Sandy, Pat, and Jonathan.

[Illustration: AS PAT.]

In his answer to this, he inquired whether I should change my dress four
times during the performance, and whether it would not be a good thing
to have a little music during the intervals.

Just fancy my appearing on the platform successively dressed as John,
Sandy, Pat, and Jonathan!

* * * * *

A good impresario is constantly on the look out for anything that may
draw the attention of the public to his entertainment. Nothing is sacred
for him. His eyes and ears are always open, all his senses on the alert.

One afternoon I was walking with my impresario over the beautiful
Clifton Suspension Bridge. I was to lecture at the Victoria Hall,
Bristol, in the