nd from this time on, the battle
raged between Parliament and platform. Later on we shall note the
results.

I am often interviewed by men, and sometimes by women, who desire to
reach the platform. They say to me: "What steps did you take?"

My answer is, I never took any; I stumbled, was picked up by
circumstances and pitched upon the platform.

At a picnic in a grove near Winchester, Ky., in 1869, a noted
temperance orator was to give an address. He failed to reach the grove
on time, and I was prevailed upon to act as time-killer until his
arrival. I was not entirely without experience, having belonged to a
debating society in a country school.

When I had spoken about thirty minutes, to my great relief, the orator
of the day made his appearance. The flattering comments upon my talk
induced me to accept other invitations to address temperance meetings,
and before I knew what had happened, the platform was under my feet,
calls were numerous and my life work was established. I suppose those
who consult me are encouraged to know a mere stumble directed my
course, and if so, by purpose and preparation they can surely succeed.

Some persons seem to think lecturing a very simple occupation,
requiring only a glib tongue, and a good pair of lungs. Several years
ago, I received a letter from a young man in which he wrote: "I heard
you lecture last week. I would like to become a lecturer myself. I
have no experience and very little education, but I have a very strong
voice and am sure I could be heard by a large audience. I have been
working in a horse-barn but am now out of a job. If I had a lecture, I
think I could make a living; besides I would get to see the country.
If you will write me one I will send you two dollars." I do not know
whether the young man gauged the price by the estimate of the lecture
he had heard me give, or his monetary condition, but if audacity is a
requisite for the platform, this young man was not entirely without
qualification.

This is an extreme case, and yet there are those whose minds are
storehouses of knowledge, who can no more become popular platform
speakers, than could the young man, who was ready to set sail on the
sea of oratory, with a lusty pair of lungs and a two dollar lecture.

Charles Spurgeon, the great London preacher, said: "I have never yet
learned the art of lecturing. If you have ever seen a goose fly, you
have seen Spurgeon trying to lecture."

Mr. Spurgeon called