First, I would reply, in rural communities where the people are not
surfeited with entertainment. Second, I would say, applause does not
always mean appreciation. It is said "still water runs deep." In
Chickering Hall, New York, one Sunday afternoon a lady sat before me
whose diamonds and dress indicated wealth. A lad sat by her side. My
subject was, "The Safe Side of Life for Young Men." It was a
temperance address and the thought came to me; that lady is a wine
drinker and she is disappointed that I am to talk temperance. She did
not cheer with the audience, nor did she give any expression of face
that would indicate her interest, except that she kept her eyes fixed
upon the speaker. At the close she came to the platform and said: "I
brought my son with me and you said what I wanted him to hear; I thank
you," and with this she took my hand saying, "Again I thank you," and
turning away, left a coin in my hand.
I put it in my pocket, and on returning to the hotel found she had
given me a twenty dollar gold piece. That was gold standard
appreciation.
I am frequently asked: "What do you recall as the best introduction
you ever had?"
I have had all kinds, some amusing, but the one I cherish most was
given by Ferd Schumacher, the deceased oatmeal king of Akron, Ohio. He
came to this country from Germany. By industry and economy he
accumulated enough money to engage in making oatmeal. When he had
rounded up more than a million of dollars in wealth, the insurance ran
out on his great "Jumbo Mills" in Akron. The insurance company raised
the rate and while he was dickering with the company, the great plant
was swept away in a midnight fire. Mr. Schumacher was a very earnest
temperance man and was to introduce me for the W.C.T.U. in the large
armory the Sunday after the fire. It was supposed he would not be
present because of the severe strain and his great loss. But prompt to
the minute he entered the door, and 'mid the applause of sympathetic
friends he took the platform.
In presenting the speaker he said: "Ladies and schentlemen, I must be
personal for a moment while I thank the people of Akron for their
sympathy. I did not know I had so many good friends. But the mill vot
vos burned vos made of stone and vood and nails and paint. We come to
talk to you about a fire vot is burning up the homes, the hopes, the
peace of vimen and children and the immortal souls of men; vill you
please take your sympathy off of Ferd Schumacher and give it to Mr.
Bain while he talks about the great fire of intemperance."
I am opposed to indiscriminate immigration to this country, but if the
old world has any more Ferd Schumachers desiring to come to America,
may He who rules winds and waves, fill with harmless pressure the
billows on which they ride and give them safe entrance into our
country's haven.
Many inquire of me about the lyceum platform as a profession. My
answer is: "like the famed shield it has two sides." One who has a
lovely home and rarely leaves it said to me: "I envy you your
life-work. You get to see the country, visit the great cities, meet
the best people and get fat fees for your lectures." How distance does
lend enchantment to the view sometimes!
A few years ago we notified the bureaus not to make engagements away
from the railroads in the northwest during the blizzard months. A
letter came saying: "Enter Wessington College, outside of Woonsocket."
We supposed outside meant adjacent. Arriving at Woonsocket in a
blizzard I found Wessington seventeen miles away. Wrapped in robes I
made the drive, arriving about six o'clock in the evening. On arrival
I was informed that smallpox had broken out in the village. The hotel
had been quarantined but a room had been engaged for me in a private
home. While taking my supper my hostess said: "Would you know smallpox
if you were to see the symptoms?"
"Know what? Why do you ask that?" I asked.
She called attention to the face of her daughter who was serving the
supper. One glance and my appetite fled, as I said: "Excuse me,
please. I must get ready for my lecture," and I left the room. One
hour later I stood before a vaccinated audience with visions of
smallpox floating before me, and for days after I imagined I could
feel it coming.
Add to this experience midnight rides on freight trains, long drives
in rain, mud and storm, ten minutes for lunch at sandwich counter,
eight months of the year away from home--the only heaven one who loves
his family has on earth, and you have a taste of the side my neighbor
did not see.
There is, however, a bright side. Whoever can get the ear of the
public from the platform, has an opportunity to sow seed, the fruit of
which will be gathered by angels when he has gone to his reward. One
so long on the platform as I have been, cannot fail in having
experiences that gladden the heart, if he has done faithful service.
Out of hundreds I select one experience that should encourage all who
labor in the Master's vineyard. I had traveled two hundred miles in a
day to reach an engagement, and the last seven miles in a buggy over a
miserable road. I did not reach the village until nine o'clock.
Without supper and chilled by the ride, I threw off my wraps and
wearily made my way through the lecture. A little later in my room at
the hotel, while I was taking a lunch of bread and milk, a minister
entered and said: "You seem to be very tired." When I answered, "Never
more so," he replied: "I have a story to tell you which will perhaps
rest you."
Continuing he said: "Some twenty years ago, you lectured in a village
where there was a state normal school. It was Sunday evening. At the
hotel were three young men, and to see the girls of the college, these
young men went to the lecture. One was the only son of a wealthy
widow. He had not seen his mother for months. She had begged him to
come home, but he was sowing his wild oats and ashamed to face his
mother. That evening you made an earnest appeal to young men in the
name of home and mother. The arrow went to the heart of the wild young
fellow. On returning to the hotel he said to his companions: 'Come up
to my room, let's have a talk.' On entering the room he closed the
door and said: 'Boys, I want to open my heart to you. I am overwhelmed
with a sense of wrong-doing. I am done with the saloon, done with the
gambling table, done with evil associations. I am going home to-morrow
and make mother happy. Boys, let's join hands and swear off from drink
and evil habits; let's honor our manhood and our mothers.'
"Now for the sequel that I think will rest you. That wild boy is now a
wealthy man. I give you his name, though I would not have you call it
in public. He is a Christian philanthropist, and has never broken his
pledge. The second boy holds the highest office in the gift of this
government in a western territory, and the third stands before you
now, an humble minister of the gospel."
It did rest me. I would rather have been the humble instrument in
turning those three young men to a righteous life, than to wear the
brightest wreath that ever encircled a stateman's brow.
For such men as Sylvester Long, Roland A. Nichols, Robert Parker Miles
and Bishop Robert McIntyre to tell me my lectures helped to shape
their lives, fills my soul with joy as I face the setting sun.
Chance, the noted English engineer, built a thousand sea-lights,
shore-lights and harbor-lights. When in old age he lay dying, a wild
storm on the sea seemed to revive him by its association with his
life-work. He said to the watchers: "Lift me up and let me see once
more the ocean in a storm."
As he looked out, the red lightning ripped open the black wardrobe of
the firmament, and he saw the salted sea driven by the fury of the
hurricane into great billows of foam. Sinking back upon his pillows
his last words were: "Thank God, I have been a lighthouse builder, and
though the light of my life is fast fading, the beams of my lighthouse
are brightening the darkness of many a sailor's night."
When my life-work closes, and my platform experiences are ended, I
would ask no better name than that of an humble lighthouse builder,
who here and there from the shore-points of life's ocean, has sent out
a friendly beam, to brighten the darkness of some brother's night.