I am often asked: "Where do you find the most appreciative audiences?"

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?"