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 LOS ANGELES
 
 I
 
 i
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 THEIR PREPARATION 
 AND THEIR DELIVERY
 
 Speeches 
 
 Their Preparation and Their Delivery 
 
 By 
 
 Alexander Burton 
 
 Author of "Public Speaking Made Easy," etc., etc. 
 
 . » » i » • 
 
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 » • > » 
 
 .' : -•- 
 
 * .' .'. ' '.' '.'i '• ' 
 
 New York 
 Edward J. Clode
 
 COPYRIGHT, I92I, 1922, BY 
 EDWARD J . CLODE 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall 
 
 
 PKINTED m THE UNITED STATES OS AMERICA
 
 sn 
 
 
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 <L/fffer Dinner Speeches 
 
 Hd)^ to (i^lffake 'Them 
 
 Chapter I 
 INTRODUCrORT 
 
 N the Ingoldsby Legends, there is a 
 description of the monks, belonging to 
 a certain order. Thus: 
 
 ' Ne'er suffered to speak, think only in Greek, 
 ij " And subsist as the bears do by sucking their paws." 
 
 ' By contrary, this quotation bears on the 
 
 V 
 
 t art of after-dinner speaking. By contrary 
 
 "^^ indeed! For the company with which we 
 
 v^ are concerned is by no means silent, accord- 
 
 t ing to the discipline for the monks, nor does 
 
 ^ it do its thinking in Greek. Rather, it does 
 
 ^' little thinking in any language — as little 
 
 "^ as possible, and instead of the melancholy 
 
 [7] 

 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 travesty of eating by which monks and 
 bears seek to assuage the pangs of fasting, our 
 fortunate assembly is filled to repletion with 
 the best of food. 
 
 The final statement is of fundamental 
 importance in our consideration of post- 
 prandial oratory. The characteristic quality 
 of such oratory is determined by the mood of 
 those listening to the speaker, and the mood 
 itself is the product of the meal. When 
 persons have dined well, the activities of 
 digestion make a special demand on the blood 
 supply. In consequence, less blood circulates 
 in the brain, and intellectual energy di- 
 minishes. The whole result is a sense of well- 
 being, in which mental effort would prove 
 irksome, but which is agreeably disposed 
 toward the lighter forms of entertainment. 
 
 It is, then, for very positive and material 
 reasons that the art of after-dinner speaking 
 must be considered quite apart from oratory 
 in general. The orator for more serious oc- 
 casions must depend primarily on an in- 
 tellectual achievement, if he is to make any 
 
 [8]
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 success worth while. He must present an 
 orderly discourse, justified by sound reason- 
 ing. Without this logical basis of argument, 
 his persuasive skill and verbal eloquence are 
 barren things. The after-dinner speaker, 
 however, is confronted with a wholly different 
 task. It may be asserted, in fact, that his 
 entire duty is to entertain. The hour fol- 
 lowing on a feast is not a period for instruction 
 or edification: it is a period for enjoyment, 
 pure and simple. Let the emphasis be on 
 that word *' simple." Simplicity must be 
 the keynote of the entertainment offered by 
 the speaker. Here is no place for com- 
 plexities, for the intricacies of genius in argu- 
 ment. Whatever is said must be of a sort 
 that the hearers may follow fully without 
 any least suggestion of mental strain. When 
 the speaker compels his listeners to con- 
 centrate their minds in an effort to think 
 deeply, he interrupts the pleasant processes 
 of digestion, and that interruption reacts 
 emotionally on his audience, so disagreeably 
 that both the speech and speaker are dis- 
 
 [9]
 
 AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 liked. The brilliant idea/ the tremendous 
 appeal, the erudition of the scholar should be 
 rigorously barred from this interval of re- 
 laxation, ease and goodfellowship. The talk, 
 whatever its theme, must be harmonious to 
 the spirit of the occasion, or it will be a failure. 
 Perhaps the one word that may best char- 
 acterize the quality to be sought for this 
 form of speaking is geniality. This is well 
 illustrated in the person of Chauncey M. 
 Depew, whose ability as an after-dinner 
 speaker was of the highest order. His geni- 
 ality was always distinctive, in both manner 
 and words. It is a lamentable truth that 
 such geniality is often lacking. Its absence 
 means an address from which the reputation 
 of the speaker and the patience of his audience 
 alike suffer. The man with a message must 
 not rant it after dinner. Here is no place to 
 parade the atrocities in Armenia, or to recite 
 statistics that prove the salvation or damna- 
 tion of this or that. The response of the 
 listeners to these, and the like, at such a time, 
 will be either scowls or yawns.
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 It is evident, at the outset, that the require- 
 ment of geniality involves in itself as well 
 simplicity, to which reference has already 
 been made. For geniality demands sim- 
 plicitv as an essential to its character. The 
 pompous man is never truly genial, however 
 hard he may try to show himself in that 
 aspect. Similarly, the pompous manner is 
 fatal to the success of the after-dinner speaker 
 since it renders geniality impossible. The 
 necessary geniality is merely the sense of 
 well-keing within one's self extended outward 
 into unity with the happy mood of the com- 
 pany as a whole. The speaker must show 
 that he is at ease, that he is contented with 
 things in general, with himself and particularly 
 with his company. ^ Such geniality is not 
 difficult of attainment, for simplicity, sin- 
 cerity and practise are the only essentials. 
 
 One who is ambitious to achieve a reputa- 
 tion as an after-dinner speaker must appreci- 
 ate thoroughly the nature of his undertaking. 
 It is not his duty to prepare a serious oration 
 and to deliver it with fire and passion; his
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 part is merely to entertain; to that end he 
 should devote all his resources; and accord- 
 ing to the measure in which he entertains so 
 will be the measure of his success. He need 
 not limit himself to froth and frivolity, but 
 he must limit himself rigidly to the purpose*^ 
 of entertaining, and of entertaining.^ only. 
 There may be crumbs of information, of 
 learning, of sentiment, just as there may be 
 carav/ay seeds in a loaf of rye bread, but these 
 must be no more than scattered crumbs. It 
 must be borne in mind constantly that the 
 occasion for such speaking is a festive one. 
 The audience has satisfied its physical crav- 
 ings, and is in a condition of placid content- 
 ment, which will resent any serious disturb- 
 ance, but will welcome a gentle mental fillip 
 as a subtle sauce piquant to the feast. Savages 
 have always taken their food very seriously. 
 Civilized man tends to do the same. When 
 a really hungry person sits down to eat, con- 
 versation is a nuisance. To mingle dining, 
 dancing, prima donna, and worse, is a present- 
 day absurdity. In baronial halls of an earlier 
 
 [12]
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 age, where there was mighty feasting, talking 
 was usually taboo until the food had vanished. 
 Afterward, came speeches of welcome to 
 visitors at the board, and their responses, 
 boasting narratives of individual exploits, 
 toasts to beauty, all the varied expressions of 
 man as a social creature. Human nature 
 remains much the same throughout its count- 
 less guises. The breaking of bread together, 
 the sharing of salt, which has always been 
 sanctified in some measure among primitive 
 peoples, avails something still in the more 
 cultured world of to-day. Ordinarily, some 
 degree of fellowship at least is created among 
 those who sit together to eat, simply from the 
 fact of such association. The effect is en- 
 hanced when the gathering is made a par- 
 ticular function of importance. The time is 
 one for material enjoyment of a wholesome 
 sort. That enjoyment brings the assembly 
 into a receptive state, in which there is 
 readiness to welcome a final, finer pleasure 
 to be afforded by a speaker whose art is of a 
 sort to satisfy. The orator who realizes 
 
 C13]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 fully the meaning of this mood in his audience 
 responds to it, and exercises his arts of enter- 
 tainment in an address primarily simple and 
 genial, afterward distinctive and diverting ac- 
 cording to his individual ability. 
 
 LhI
 
 Chapter II 
 SIMPLICirr 
 
 THE after-dinner speaker should at 
 the outset recognize the virtue 
 of simpHcity in his art, and en- 
 deavor persistently to make it an 
 attribute of his own. This simplicity is of a 
 fundamental sort, and it should be extended 
 specifically in three applications. The first 
 of the three has to do with the manner, 
 generally considered, of the speaker, while 
 the second and third are concerned respec- 
 tively with the language employed in the 
 address and the substance — in other words, 
 the form and the idea. 
 
 Now, as to the manner of th& speaker. This 
 includes his personal appearance, in so far as 
 it is within his control; his bearing, facial 
 expression, position of the hands, and the 
 like; in fact, everything that goes to the 
 
 [is:
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 making up of appearance and demeanor. And 
 just here it is to be noted that the instructions 
 concerning simpKcity must be of a negative, 
 rather than a positive character. It is well 
 enough to declare that the speaker must as- 
 sume an easy and graceful posture. But it 
 is more difficult, if not quite impossible, to 
 describe in detail what constitutes an easy 
 and graceful posture. It is safe to urge that 
 the position assumed be a natural one, in 
 order to avoid the effect of self-consciousness 
 and evident artificiality. But along with 
 this, we must give particular counsel of the 
 negative kind, directions as to what should 
 not be done. Thus, the attitude, though 
 natural, should not be slouchy. The speaker 
 should be at pains to stand erect, with head 
 held well up. He should not stoop, or let 
 his head fall forward, or leave his eyes down- 
 cast. He must show by a certain dignity in 
 his pose his appreciation of the fact that for 
 the moment he is the object of interest to the 
 company. An awkward, listless or . bored^ 
 air would evidence a lack of respect, and of
 
 SIMPLICITY 
 
 itself create a preliminary prejudice against 
 the speaker. The hands should not be thrust 
 into the pockets. They should hang loosely 
 at the sides. Even the thrusting of one 
 within the breast of the coat is to be depre- 
 cated. They should not be permitted to 
 rest on the table ; there is too much likelihood 
 that if thus placed the fingers will presently 
 begin to toy with anything that chances to 
 lie within reach. When the nervousness of 
 a speaker is such that he cannot readily con- 
 trol the movements of his hands, he may 
 clasp them behind his back, and thus hold 
 them in order. He should take care also to 
 avoid resting his hands on the back of his 
 chair. Besides the awkwardness of this pos- 
 ture, it leads almost invariable to a jiggling 
 of the chair in a manner that might be highly 
 interesting if done by spooks at a seance, but 
 can only unpleasantly distract the attention 
 of the speaker's audience. In this connection, 
 it should be pointed out that a posture of 
 eas^ and dignity can be held only when there 
 is no excess of self-consciousness, and such 
 
 C17] 
 
 •V
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 excess of self-consciousness is escaped simply 
 by fixing the attention on the speech itself. A 
 real concentration maintained throughout on 
 his discourse will save the speaker from any 
 embarrassing consciousness of himself. 
 
 Just as the posture should be one of dig- 
 nified simplicity, so should the method of 
 delivery. Here, again, negative directions 
 are important. There must be no ranting. 
 The voice should be moderate, of no more 
 
 n-, . _ ' 
 
 volume than is necessary for distinctness. 
 There should be no tricks of delivery. Ora- 
 torical variations of pitch and inflection are 
 to be shunned. An ordinary conversational 
 tone suffices. The only change from the 
 usual manner of talking should be in an in- 
 creased distinctness of enunciation, and, of 
 course, particular care in the proper formation 
 of every phrase and sentence. 
 
 It should be observed in this connection 
 that the tendency of present-day oratory of 
 the more serious sort is distinctly toward the 
 same simplicity. Within recent years, there 
 has come an essential change in the methods
 
 SIMPLICITY, 
 
 of the best public speakers. The spread-eagle 
 style of speechmaking still survives, but it is 
 to be found chiefly in more remote com- 
 munities, where traditions are difficult to 
 overcome, and the populace demands of the 
 orator a turgid rhetoric delivered with all 
 the vocal and gesticulatory embellishments of 
 fiery eloquence. But the ablest speakers in 
 the chief centers of our civilization prefer a 
 simpler fashion of address, and rely chiefly on 
 the clearness and power of the argument 
 presented. Thus, while discoursing on the 
 gravest themes, they approach in manner 
 that which has been described as especially 
 suitable for the after-dinner speaker. The 
 chief difference lies in the quality of geniality, 
 concerning which there will be some discussion 
 in the chapter following. The genial quality, 
 which is essential to the successful after- 
 dinner speaker may, or may not, distinguish 
 the mode employed by the more serious orator. 
 But the after-dinner speaker may find a real 
 satisfaction in the trend toward simplicity 
 of all oratory. For by so much as he is able 
 
 [19]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 to attain skill in the lighter kind of speech- 
 making, he actually is preparing himself for 
 success in the more pretentious style of 
 oratory. The distinction between the two 
 in the matter of manner was most marked in 
 the past, but to-day the difference is slight, 
 and any excellence acquired in the one is 
 easily to be transferred to the other. 
 
 The third application of simplicity is to the 
 thought presented in the speech. It is to be 
 remembered that the audience is engaged in 
 the task of digestion, and these agreeable 
 physical processes should not be unduly dis- 
 turbed by violent appeals on the part of the 
 speaker to either the emotions or the intellect. 
 The single exception has to do with humor, 
 which seems to stimulate agreeably the di- 
 gestive action, and due attention will be 
 given to this fact later on. For the present, 
 our concern is with the necessity for sim- 
 plicity in constructing the outline of the 
 address. There should be nothing in the 
 least difficult for the audience to follow. In- 
 tellectual subtleties are not for such an oc-
 
 SIMPLICITY 
 
 casion. Indeed, the speech must be abso- 
 lutely free from anything calculated to tax 
 the brains of the listeners. Once thoroughly 
 appreciated, this fact greatly lightens the task 
 of preparing the after-din^ej: speech. The 
 novice (some who are not novices commit 
 the same fault) is likely to strain his mental 
 faculties in an effort to assemble ideas of an 
 impressive sort. He fancies that his address 
 should contain something remarkable in order 
 to impress his own ability upon his hapless 
 hearers. He therefore cudgels his wits to 
 find ideas such as he deems worthy of himself 
 and of the occasion. By so much as he suc- 
 ceeds in this undertaking, his speech becomes 
 ponderous and tedious. He should, on the 
 contrary, select a simple idea fitting to the 
 occasion and after this selection has been 
 made, he should determine an equally simple 
 way of introducing the topic, and of con- 
 cluding it. As will be shown further on, this 
 method is entirely adequate in all circum- 
 stances, and admits of endless variation as 
 
 the need arises. In addition, there remains 
 
 1:21:
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 only the matter of embellishmeiits. Par- 
 ticular attention will be given to this phase 
 of the subject in a subsequent chapter under 
 the heading of *'Wit and Humor." 
 
 When it so happens that a person absolutely 
 without experience is required to make a 
 speech, he is prone to be nervously appre- 
 hensive of making an ignominious failure. 
 Yet, he need have no such fear. In the first 
 place, he may comfort himself with the 
 realization that the audience will hardly 
 expect any eloquence from such a maiden 
 effort. And in the second place, the glib- 
 ness of a veteran orator would be rather 
 unbecoming, as well as unexpected, in the 
 speech of one wholly inexperienced. The 
 novice must not be unduly distressed over 
 any embarrassment he may feel in an un- 
 familiar situation, since the company will 
 appreciate his trouble and be sympathetic 
 in his behalf. Moreover, the display of 
 embarrassment is not unseemly in such cases. 
 The hesitating speech is not only tolerated, 
 but is approved and applauded. The single 
 
 [22]
 
 SIMPLICITY 
 
 requirement is that there should be a speech. 
 It is advisable that the beginner should ex- 
 hibit conspicuously the merit of brevity in 
 his address. In this wise, he makes the task 
 the easiest possible for both himself and his 
 hearers. It is better, too, that in his earliest 
 efforts the speaker should not depend on 
 extemporaneous utterances. After he has 
 spoken in public a few times, he will acquire 
 a fair degree of self-confidence, so that he 
 may venture to leave the exact fashioning ot 
 sentences to the moment of speaking them, 
 but in the initial attempts it will be expedient 
 to write down a very short address and to 
 memorize this perfectly. In subsequent 
 speeches, it is often advisable to mingle the 
 extemporaneous and the memorized > One 
 of the most frequent faults in the extempo- 
 raneous speaker is a glaring inability to stop. 
 It is a sad fact that innumerable admirable 
 speeches are spoiled by rambling on and on 
 long after they should have ended. The 
 extemporaneous orator in his pride is eager 
 
 to add a concluding sentence of particular 
 
 C23]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 power, and this sentence is always just beyond. 
 He tries for it, and tries again ad nauseam. 
 This error is most easily avoided by determin- 
 ing in advance the exact form of the final 
 sentence or paragraph. When this has been 
 memorized, the task of ending the speech 
 ceases to be troublesome. It is only necessary 
 to repeat the memorized bit, and then to sit 
 down. 
 
 [243
 
 Chapter III 
 GENIALirr 
 
 WHOEVER would succeed in 
 the art of after-dinner speak- 
 ing should take to heart his 
 need of geniality as an attri- 
 bute. The quality as it is meant here is of 
 wide application, and it should persist with- 
 out interruption throughout every address 
 delivered. It must not be limited merely 
 to externals, but it must be characteristic of 
 all details in the speech itself and even of the 
 substance of the thought. 
 
 Geniality must be conspicuous in the whole 
 personality of the speaker. And it is just 
 here that there is danger. The geniality 
 must be real: an artificial assumption of a 
 genial manner fails of its purpose. The 
 speaker's appearance of cheery kindliness 
 must come from a genuine feeling within him. 
 
 C25]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 It is true that the winning smile and beam- 
 ing glance may be cultivated, and the am- 
 bitious orator should cultivate them as- 
 siduously. But he should be careful to cul- 
 tivate as well even more diligently the genial 
 mood for himself, of which smile and glance 
 shall be the natural manifestation. Honest 
 feeling carries a magnetism of its own that 
 cannot be duplicated by any skill of hy- 
 pocrisy. Moods can be controlled by an 
 intelligent exercise of the will and faithful 
 practise. The speaker should attain such a 
 mastery over himself that whenever he rises 
 to address an audience he actually experiences 
 that feeling of geniality which is essential to 
 his success. 
 
 It is obvious that the genial manner is 
 requisite to an occasion of a festive sort. It 
 is not so obvious that the genial quality should 
 pervade as well the substance and the spirit 
 of the speech. Too many speakers err 
 in permitting wit to overcome kindliness. 
 Laughter may be provoked by clever sar- 
 casm and ironic personal allusions, but this 
 
 1:263
 
 GENIALITY 
 
 sort of brilliancy provokes a certain distrust 
 of the orator that reacts very unfavorably 
 upon his reputation. Equal laughter may be 
 excited by wit and humor that have no sting, 
 that leave no aftermath of bitterness. 
 
 So, the speaker who desires a reputation 
 of the best must see to it that the genial 
 quality be not lacking in every sentence he 
 utters. In a more intimate gathering, there 
 is much opportunity for references to this or 
 that person among the company and these 
 by the exercise of ingenuity based on knowl- 
 edge may be made very ami^sing indeed. 
 But never at the cost of^ynpleasantness to 
 one thus singled out. There must be no 
 malice. Every quip must be founded in good 
 nature, made inoffensive by kindliness. The 
 speaker will find here ample occasion for the 
 exercise of discreet judgment. Most of us 
 have our own pet foibles. Of some of these 
 we are proud; of others we are ashamed. 
 Allusions to the first please us, to the second 
 distress us. The speaker may find excellent 
 material in the first; he must scrupulously
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 avoid any reference to the second. The 
 condition of true geniality demands the en- 
 tertainment of all, the enjoyment of all, not 
 the amusing of some at the expense of others. 
 The point made here concerning the foibles 
 of persons is to be extended still further in 
 its application. The speaker. must carefully 
 avoid any topic .<)Yer which the company is 
 seriously divided in its opinions. He must 
 bear m mmd constantly that it is his part to 
 grace a festive occasion. Nothing could be 
 more tactless than to introduce a theme 
 provocative of bitter feeling among his 
 hearers. If he retains carefully in his con- 
 sciousness the necessity for geniality, he will 
 escape such errors of taste. Even where a 
 particular subject has been assigned to the 
 speaker, and this subject is one over which 
 ill feeling exists, it is always possible by the 
 exercise of ingenuity so to treat the topic 
 as to render it harmless. In every instance, 
 this method should be followed, or the 
 speaker himself will suffer in the public 
 
 estimation. Wit and humor are of vital 
 
 £28]
 
 GENIALITY 
 
 importance to the genial effect of a discourse, 
 as we shall point out in the following chapter. 
 And both wit and humor may be savage and 
 cruel, or they may be amiable and joyous. 
 The amusement of the evil sort must be 
 conscientiously excluded at all times by the 
 speaker who is desirous of an honorable fame. 
 But there are no bounds except those im- 
 posed by his own abilities as to the availa- 
 bility of that wit or humor which is free from 
 any least trace of malice. 
 
 Let us now consider more extensively this 
 most important phase of our subject. 
 
 C29]
 
 Chapter IV 
 WIT AND HUMOR 
 
 WIT and humor are, or at least 
 should be, characteristic of 
 the after-dinner speech. The 
 importance of this quality in 
 the lighter form of oratory cannot be over- 
 estimated. 
 
 We have no concern with the rather 
 difficult distinctions that may be drawn be- 
 tween wit and humor. As a matter of fact, 
 definitions in this regard are usually rather 
 confusing, if not inaccurate. It is enough 
 for our purpose to realize that wit is dependent 
 on an intellectual activity, while humor may 
 have its source in circumstances. For ex- 
 ample, there was a humorous situation when 
 the cottage gate displayed an imposing sign: 
 ''Beware the dog," and there was nowhere 
 any evidence of the alleged dangerous creature. 
 
 C30]
 
 WIT AND HUMOR 
 
 But the absurdity of the situation was em- 
 phasized by wit when a passer-by rewrote 
 the sign to read: "Ware be the dog?" It 
 is pure humor in the story of the absent- 
 minded professor who, on returning home 
 is confronted by a new maid and is informed 
 by the servant, unknowing his identity, that 
 ■the, professor is out. He thereupon sits down 
 gri the doorstep patiently to await his own 
 return. Here simply the situation in itself is 
 ludicrous. There is no intellectual activity 
 involved. On the contrary! On the other 
 hand, pure wit is displayed in a story that 
 has to do with Choate in his younger days. 
 On one occasion, he was engaged in trying a 
 case in Westchester County, which lies ad- 
 jacent to New York City. The opposing 
 attorney referred to the " Chesterfieldian ur- 
 banity" of his adversary. Choate, in reply- 
 ing, spoke casually of the "Westchesterfieldian 
 suburbanity" of the other lawyer. 
 
 It is often said that the pun is the lowest 
 form of humor, but this allegation, like most 
 generalities, is untrue. Actually, a pun may 
 
 L3i2
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 be good or it may be bad. The disfavor with 
 which it is regarded is due to the fact that a 
 punning habit is of all things tiresome. One 
 guilty of this vice makes his plays on words 
 in season and out of season with no care as to 
 whether or not the idea presented be of an 
 amusing sort. Yet in just this point is in- 
 volved the value or the worthlessness of any 
 pun. When the play on words presents an 
 idea that in itself is diverting, the wit is 
 admirable. When the verbal juggling offers 
 no suggestion that is amusing, the pun is 
 absolutely without excuse. There is excel- 
 lent wit in the story told above of Choate, yet 
 it is only punning. So, too, the merit in the 
 story of the changed sign concerning the dog 
 lies in the pun. But in each instance, the 
 pun itself is of a kind to provoke laughter. 
 
 So much attention to the meaning of wit 
 and humor is demanded as preliminary be- 
 cause of the vital part they must play in the 
 success of an after-dinner speaker. The as- 
 pirant to honors in this field should make no 
 mistake in regard to the prime need of ability 
 
 C323
 
 WIT AND HUMOR 
 
 to amuse his audience. Let him remember 
 all that has been said concerning the require- 
 ment for geniality. The same argument 
 reaches out with even greater emphasis to 
 insist on the employment of wit and humor 
 in every such address. We have to do with 
 a festal occasion, and the spirit of that oc- 
 casion is to be interpreted chiefly always by 
 mirth. Pathos and tears are permissible for 
 marriages and funerals, but they hamper 
 digestion, and are totally out of place after 
 dinner. The proper adjuncts to follow feast- 
 ing are smxiles and laug:hter. Ripples of 
 merriment, or even more gusty cachinnations, 
 help, rather than hinder, the digestive proc- 
 esses. It is for the speaker to employ all his 
 arts toward amusing his audience, toward 
 moulding their mental state to a well-being 
 in harmony with the physical. It is some- 
 times asserted that the after-dinner speaker 
 should by no means limit himself to funny 
 stories, but should rather present a well- 
 thought-out address containing serious ideas. 
 Objection to humor as the chief ingredient in 
 
 [33]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 the discourse is based on a total misunder- 
 standing as to the spirit of the occasion. 
 There are opportunities a plenty for the 
 presentation of serious ideas without lugging 
 them to the banquet hall. The postprandial 
 hour is solely for pleasure, not for heavy 
 thought. The speaker must bear this fact 
 in mind constantly, and never, by ill-timed 
 gravity thwart the mood of the company. 
 In consequence, he is to make his main reliance 
 on wit and humor in every such address. In- 
 deed, it is almost impossible for him to err 
 by being too funny. It was all very well for 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes to write a poem in 
 which, after describing the ill effects of over- 
 much laughter by the printer's boy reading 
 the author's verses, to assert that "since then 
 I've never dared to be as funny as I can." 
 The ambitious speaker need have one last 
 qualm of fear in this regard. He may safely 
 dare his utmost in the way of being funny, 
 and by so much as he is successful in his 
 efforts his fame will increase, and the de- 
 mands for his presence will multiply. 
 
 [34]
 
 WIT AND HUMOR 
 
 One who intends to make a habit of after- 
 dinner speaking should devote himself very 
 earnestly to the art of story-telling. For 
 this, the first essential is an adequate supply 
 of the stories themselves. There is, fortu- 
 nately, no lack of these. Excellent stories are 
 being told constantly by word of mouth, by 
 the newspapers and in the magazines, of which 
 many have a special humorous department. 
 But, unless one has strafned himself particu- 
 larly to retain memory of the stories he hears 
 or reads, and has grown skilled in recalling 
 them at will so that they may be available 
 whenever desired, he will do well in the be- 
 ginning to make a business of remembering 
 by means of notes and clippings. It is ad- 
 visable for the tyro to employ a scrap book as 
 a convenient and comprehensive aid to recol- 
 lection. Whenever he chances on a good 
 story in his reading, he captures it for his own 
 by cutting it out and pasting it in the book. 
 He will be astonished by the rapidity with 
 which his collection increases in bulk, and 
 likewise by the variety offered in the as- 
 
 [35]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 sembled tales. A few weeks of industry will 
 supply a humorous repertory of no mean 
 extent, and persistance in the practise will 
 soon afford a sufficient stock for all possible 
 occasions. It may be desirable, also, for 
 the sake of convenience to include in the 
 scrap book brief written notes of any good 
 stories heard. This method has the advan- 
 tage of simplicity, since all the material is 
 gathered between the covers of a single 
 book. 
 
 There should be no attempt at classification 
 of the stories. And this for two reasons. 
 The first reason is that any effort toward 
 arrangement of the various anecdotes would 
 seriously complicate the labor involved and 
 render it onerous. The second reason is that 
 no advantage is derived from such classifica- 
 tion. This fact might easily be questioned by 
 the inexperienced person, but actually it 
 cannot be controverted. As a matter of fact, 
 a true classification of stories cannot be made 
 without repetitions to the point of absurdity. 
 The essential character of any story lies in the 
 
 [36:
 
 WIT AND HUMOR 
 
 application of it. Let us demonstrate this 
 by an example. 
 
 A kindly old lady visiting the zoo was 
 present at the feeding of the lions. She 
 regarded the huge cats sympathetically, and 
 at last ventured a question to the keeper: 
 
 "Isn't that a very small piece of meat to 
 give to the lions?" 
 
 The keeper answered with sincere polite- 
 ness — of intention: 
 
 "Well, mum, it may seem like a very small 
 piece of meat to you, mum, but it seems like 
 a very big piece of meat to the lions, mum." 
 
 Now, here is an anecdote that is sufficiently 
 amusing for the scrap book. Moreover, it is 
 of a sort that lends itself excellently for pur- 
 poses of illustration. How, then, shall we 
 classify it? Of course, it may be slipped into 
 the L columns with the caption, "Lions." 
 Thus indexed, the story will be available 
 whenever there is need of one that has to do 
 with lions. But — \ The usefulness of this 
 particular tale is by no means limited to that 
 particular subject. In reality, the character 
 
 C37]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 of the story is determined by its application. 
 And this application is not limited to one thing; 
 the scope of application is broad, as may be 
 seen almost at a glance, and it becomes still 
 broader under further scrutiny. Thus, the 
 story may be used in connection with the 
 subject of kindness, for the old lady's question 
 was begotten of sympathy. Or it may be 
 used in connection with error, for she had a 
 mistaken notion as to what was required by 
 the beasts. Or it may be used in connection 
 with the subject of politeness, for the keeper 
 meant to be very polite indeed. Or it may 
 be used in connection with the subject of 
 exactness, for the keeper was laboriously 
 exact in his reply. Or it may be used in con- 
 nection with the subjects of meat, food in 
 general, the appetites of animals or of old 
 ladies, or the manners of men and women and 
 brutes, civic improvements as represented 
 by the zoo in the park and so forth, and so 
 forth. To index properly such a story would 
 require its repetition under many headings. 
 In truth, the experienced after-dinner 
 
 C38:
 
 WIT AND HUMOR 
 
 speaker knows very well that the requirement 
 of chief importance is the really good story. 
 Once this is secured, it is possible by the 
 exercise of a little ingenuity to make it ap- 
 plicable to almost any subject. For there 
 are many phases of thought in even the 
 simplest of tales, and the application depends 
 wholly on just which phase may be selected 
 by the speaker for emphasis. 
 
 So, in the scrap book, there is no occasion 
 for an index. Whenever a story is desired, 
 it is easily to be found by glancing over the 
 columms. Presently, one will be discovered 
 of which the humor at this moment strikes a 
 particularly responsive chord. The searcher 
 makes this his choice, and studies it in order 
 to find just how he can apply it to his pur- 
 pose. This task will not prove difficult. In 
 fact, the concentration required is likely to 
 suggest ideas available for his use, so that the 
 time thus employed will be well worth while. 
 
 C 39.3
 
 Chapter V 
 TELLING A STORT 
 
 TO the speaker who would excel In 
 after-dinner oratory, it is essential 
 that he should be able not only 
 to tell a good story, but also to 
 tell it exceedingly well. Ability in this di- 
 rection is an art by itself. It is true that 
 certain persons appear to possess a natural 
 knack as raconteurs. Here, as elsewhere, 
 natural aptitude plays an important part. 
 But one who feels himself lacking in a par- 
 ticular talent of this sort may comfort himself 
 with the knowledge that in story-telling as 
 in other things practise makes perfect. It is 
 by no means necessary to be born with the 
 knack. It can be cultivated, and a real 
 ability developed by persistent exercise. In- 
 deed, we may incline to a belief that the 
 knack seemingly inherent in some persons is 
 
 C403
 
 TELLING A STORY 
 
 actually the result of constant practise. For 
 an individual who is fond of story-telling is 
 likely to be forever following his bent, and he 
 thus assiduously exercises his skill, and in- 
 creases it to the utmost possible. On the 
 other hand, one who has never made a 
 habit of story-telling is, of course, seriously 
 hampered when he attempts the unfamiliar 
 task. Yet, he may possess an excellent 
 equipment mentally and temperamentally. 
 Like any machine, however, it cannot operate 
 at its best until after a certain amount of use. 
 Any person of average ability can readily 
 perfect himself in the art of story-telling. 
 Intelligent practise is the only requirement. 
 
 The first necessity in relating any story 
 is an exact understanding of its point. A 
 blunder that we hear almost daily from 
 someone is the omission of a detail essential 
 to making the point clear. No story can be 
 effective when the narrator is compelled to 
 tack on at the end an apologetic, "Oh, I for- 
 got to say ," or, "I should have men- 
 tioned ," or the like. Not only must 
 
 [413
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 the point of the story as it is made in the 
 climax be exactly understood and as exactly 
 presented, but every detail of an essential 
 kind that precedes must be noted as well 
 and given its place in the narration. In the 
 story as to the feeding of the animals, for 
 example, the point is in the two sentences 
 exchanged by the old lady and the keeper. 
 The precise wording is vital in this case, be- 
 cause of the amusing manner in which the 
 two statements are opposed. The single 
 feature of the preceding part that is impera- 
 tive is the fact that a woman was present 
 during the feeding of lions. The scene might 
 be shifted to the menagerie of a circus with- 
 out affecting the point of the story. But the 
 hearers myst be told that a woman witnessed 
 the lions* meal. In this particular story, that 
 one fact is the only significant detail. The 
 teller might include other circumstances at 
 his pleasure in order to extend the length of 
 the story or perhaps to make it more amusing 
 or more effective in a special application. 
 Thus, he might describe the old lady as a 
 
 C4O
 
 TELLING A STORY 
 
 country woman who had cooked through 
 many years for a family of husky menfolks. 
 Her personal experience with their appetites 
 would serve to explain her conviction that 
 the supply for the lions was stingy. It is 
 obvious that such embellishment would not 
 affect in any degree- the point of the story. 
 
 Where a tyro in after-dinner speaking is 
 beset by fear of confusion at the critical 
 moment that might induce a clumsy or wrong 
 statement of the point of the story, he should 
 insure himself against the possibility of such 
 a mishap by memorizing that part of the 
 anecdote. In the tale of the lady and the 
 lions, the two sentences of the dialogue alone 
 suffice. With these firmly fixed in memory, 
 the speaker knows that he cannot boggle his 
 story. Even when the point seems a rather 
 complicated affair, scrutiny of the story will 
 reveal the actual essentials, which are usually 
 few in number and easily remembered. The 
 non-essentials, as has been pointed out, may 
 be varied as desired. No attempt should be 
 made to memorize these, since their precise 
 
 [43]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 form is unimportant comparatively. More- 
 over, the necessity for a memorization will 
 soon pass, for after a little experience in 
 story-telling, it will be found that the point 
 itself is the feature by which each tale is 
 known in the recollection. 
 
 The practice in the art should be carried 
 on industriously until perfect ease of narration 
 is acquired. This involves nothing more 
 difficult than the telling of stories as frequently 
 as possible. When a story has been selected 
 as being really laughable, it should be ex- 
 amined carefully in the manner indicated 
 above, first, in order to impress the point 
 itself upon the memory, and, second, to 
 determine the significant features that lead 
 up to the point. Next, there should be an 
 attempt at telling the story to one's self when 
 alone, speaking it aloud as if before an audi- 
 ence. This practise may be repeated as 
 often as convenience permits, until the recital 
 is made smoothly and with certainty. But 
 in such repetitions care should be taken not 
 to fall into a set form of words, except perhaps 
 
 [44]
 
 TELLING A STORY 
 
 in stating the point itself. Variations in the 
 manner of phrasing and of the narration gen- 
 erally afford capital discipline for facility in 
 speaking, which will prove very useful. Fin- 
 ally, the practise in this same story should be 
 extended to trying its effect on other persons. 
 At the outset, it will probably be advisable 
 to experiment on a single individual. This 
 has the advantage of being less embarrassing, 
 and also of offering more opportunity for 
 subsequent repetitions. After it has been 
 told to one person, it should be told again 
 to another, and so on until fluency is at- 
 tained. Then, a second story should be 
 used similarly; first studied, second told to 
 one's self, third to others. And so on with 
 yet other tales until narration is developed 
 into an art equally agreeable to both the 
 speaker and his listeners. 
 
 The aspirant to distinction as an after- 
 dinner speaker must not fail to appreciate 
 the importance to him of ability as a story- 
 teller. He must remember what has been 
 said heretofore concerning his duty to enter- 
 
 [45]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 tain the company he addresses. The story 
 that really amuses an audience is the very 
 best form of entertainment. It is one that 
 remains with the hearer, who is able to carry 
 away with him the pleasure he has experi- 
 enced and even to pass it on to others who were 
 not so fortunate as to be present. The 
 veriest novice can succeed in his first ap- 
 pearance as a speaker if he does nothing more 
 than tell a really good story, no matter how 
 short. It will be enough if he simply stands 
 up and speaks distinctly the few words of the 
 story itself, and then sits down. If the 
 humor is really good, there will be laughter in 
 response, and the novice will have achieved 
 a sufficient success in his maiden effort. I 
 have seen this done more than once. The 
 story being good, there needs no application 
 of it, no explanation as to why it is told, or 
 what bearing it has on the occasion. The 
 single requirement is the telling of a story, 
 provocative of laughter. The audience is all 
 eagerness to laugh, and welcomes the op- 
 portunity, and gives its sincere approval to 
 
 [46]
 
 TELLING A STORY 
 
 the teller of it. Of course, it is more elegant, 
 and is expected of the trained speaker, that^ 
 there should be a graceful introduction and 
 a clever apphcation, but nothing is expected 
 of the novice, and, in consequence, the bare 
 story alone perhaps astonishes and surely 
 gratifies the listeners. The beginner should 
 by no means disdain this simple method of 
 first facing an audience. It is a vastly better 
 route to success than the preparation of an 
 elaborate address, which will probably lack 
 pithiness and is likely to entangle him in 
 difficulties during the delivery. Moreover, 
 the modesty displayed in the simple telling 
 of a short story reacts in his favor. Criticism 
 is disarmed, which might be provoked by a 
 more pretentious attempt. 
 
 When the beginner has experimented with 
 a brief story related before an audience, and 
 finds himself free from any great degree of 
 embarrassment when speaking, he may safely 
 undertake a short introduction to the story, 
 carefully thought out in advance, but not 
 memorized as to the wording. And he may 
 
 [47]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 now exercise his ingenuity in explaining very 
 briefly in just what way the story may be 
 appHcable to the occasion for the feast. In 
 these earUer efforts, brevity should be the 
 rule. When ease and fluency are attained, the 
 address may be lengthened slightly, along 
 those lines to be indicated in later chapters, 
 and made also to include a number of stories. 
 But, as fluency and eloquence increase, con- 
 stant restraint must be exercised to guard 
 against the vice that so commonly accom- 
 panies these virtues — talking too much. 
 That brevity is the soul of wit should be 
 taken to heart by every after-dinner speaker. 
 
 C48]
 
 Chapter VI 
 PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 
 
 IN the preparation of any address designed 
 for an after-dinner audience, the first 
 concern, of course, must be the selection 
 of the particular subject to be treated, 
 unless this shall have been already assigned 
 to the speaker along with the request for his 
 services. The subject, when left to the dis- 
 cretion of the orator for his selection, must be 
 chosen with care, so that it shall be one in 
 harmony with the purposes of the gathering. 
 Definite instruction as to this feature cannot 
 be given, since the actual circumstances in 
 each case must be carefully considered. It 
 can only be pointed out that the theme must 
 be an appropriate one. Too often, indeed, the 
 after-dinner speaker in his address suits his 
 own convenience or desires in determining a 
 topic, rather than the preference of his audi- 
 
 C49]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 ence. The result of such an error is necessarily 
 unpleasant. The listeners remain listless at 
 the best, or distinctly annoyed at the worst, 
 and their mood reacts to the discrediting of 
 the orator. So, at the outset, the speaker 
 must see to it that his selection of a subject be 
 prudently made, that the theme be one 
 certain to enlist the sympathetic attention 
 of his hearers, that, in short, it be pleasing 
 to them, calculated, to entertain. Some 
 further suggestions^ as to the choosing of the 
 subject will be given in a later chapter. It 
 is enough for the present to impress on the 
 speaker the need of strict propriety to the 
 occasion in making the selection. 
 
 When the topic has been selected, the next 
 requirement has to do with the form of the 
 discourse. It should be divided into three 
 parts: the first, the introduction; the second, 
 the body; the third, the conclusion. The 
 task now is to determine the nature of the 
 opening remarks. These should be of a grace- 
 ful sort, not too serious. But care should 
 be taken to avoid a conspicuous lack of 
 
 [so]
 
 PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 
 
 dignity here, which might seem to reflect 
 unfavorably on the importance of the gather- 
 ing. The introduction ,fhay be merely a few 
 words of agreeable compliment to the com- 
 pany, or a brief reference to the cause of this 
 assembly, or both. Then should follow a 
 statement of the subject selected for the 
 address, and a simple straightforward explana- 
 tion of why it was chosen. The speaker here 
 merely recites tersely the reasons that in- 
 fluenced him to decide on the topic. Or, in 
 this same connection, if the subject was as- 
 signed to him instead of being left to his 
 discretion, he may summarize what he be- 
 lieves to be the reasons that determined the 
 choice. All of this preliminary matter, it 
 must be remembered, is to be very short. 
 There must be no dawdling over the intro- 
 duction. There should be only a few ideas, 
 and these should be expressed in the most 
 straightforward fashion possible. The phras- 
 ing should be as smooth as the speaker's 
 ability permits, but it should be plain, rather 
 than ornate, and there should be no juggling 
 
 Csi]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 of words by which a single idea is repeated 
 from two to half-a-dozen times. 
 
 Next, the speaker in his preparation must 
 concentrate on the body or principal part of / 
 the address. Here, again, no specific teach- 
 ing is available, since the particular circum- 
 stances of the occasion must affect the treat- 
 ment vitally. It suffices to say that brevity 
 must still remain the chief virtue. The 
 theme may properly admit of serious treat- 
 ment, or of sentimental, but the speaker must 
 exercise a judicious restraint, else he will 
 weary his audience. The formal designation 
 of this part as the body of the address must 
 not be allowed to mislead. The body, in 
 fact, may be a very tiny one. It may be 
 expedient to limit this portion to only a few 
 carefully considered sentences. For it must 
 be remembered that the aim of the speaker 
 is to entertain, to divert, rather than to in- 
 struct or to edify. Therefore, he must con- 
 tract to the utmost that part of his speech 
 which is out of character with the main pur- 
 pose. The serious note, so to speak, must 
 
 C5*]
 
 PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 
 
 be sounded very lightly. But, thus sounded, 
 it serves excellently by way of contrast in 
 preparation for the amusing sequel. 
 
 This sequel is the story, and should, most 
 emphatically,,,, b^ anMsmgr* Technically, the 
 story forms the conclusion of the address, 
 following the body. But, if we were to ana- 
 lyze the speech according to values, the 
 conclusion — the story — would prove to be 
 the actual body of the discourse. Here, 
 beyond any question, the tail wags the dog, 
 and the better the tale, the bigger the wag. 
 
 The story itself should be introduced by 
 a few words suggesting the manner in which 
 it is applicable to the speaker's topic. But 
 care is to be exercised not to reveal or even 
 suggest the point of the story in thus intro- 
 ducing it. The telling of the story itself 
 should be made as effective as possible. The 
 narrative must be shorter or longer according 
 to the ability of the speaker to make it 
 humorous throughout. If he has the art 
 to make it truly diverting sentence by sen- 
 tence as he proceeds, he may expand a brief 
 
 [53 3
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 incident into a considerable narrative, and 
 make the telling as a whole laughable and 
 enjoyable. Indeed, the practise in story- 
 telling as previously outlined has for its pur- 
 pose the acquirement of such art on the part 
 of the speaker. His ideal should be not only 
 to tell a good story, but so to relate the story 
 as to make its every word effective. The be- 
 ginner must limit himself to essentials. But 
 with increased proficiency in speaking and 
 especially with developed facility in humorous 
 expression, the speaker is free to fill out the 
 story according to his will. The only condi- 
 tion imposed is that all the padding be in 
 itself of a sort to entertain and amuse the 
 audience. For example, in the tale of the 
 Lady and the Lions the novice must limit 
 his account to the essentials, in the manner 
 already pointed out in reference to this story. 
 But the speaker, who is sure of himself and 
 his art, is not so restricted. He is at liberty 
 to enlarge the narrative to any extent of 
 which he is capable, so long as his account 
 is of an amusing sort. He may describe the 
 
 1154]
 
 PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 
 
 old lady, what she wears, her way of looking 
 at the lions, her life at home, her years of toil 
 in catering in the kitchen to the voracity of 
 men. Or he may devote himself to a whimsi- 
 cal account of the life of a keeper, who finds 
 among the wild beasts of the menagerie a 
 tranquility denied him at home by wife and 
 rolling pin. Or he may make a passing refer- 
 ence to the lions themselves, declaring that this 
 animal won its proud position as king of the 
 beasts by its ability to roar louder than any 
 other creature, which is in line with a method 
 of attaining greatness much in vogue also 
 among mankind. In fine, the speaker may 
 indulge at will his wit and humor, if these be 
 genuine. 
 
 The outline given above is for the simplest 
 form of an address. But the principles gov- 
 erning this construction are to be maintained 
 in a more complex discourse. Thus, after 
 the introduction in the manner already de- 
 scribed, the body of the address may be divided 
 up into two or more brief portions. In such 
 case, each section should be followed by a 
 
 [55]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 conclusion, which is the funny story. The 
 effect is, of course, to make the address more 
 pretentious and of greater length, because a 
 number of stories are told instead of the one. 
 Ordinarily, this is the method to be followed. 
 It is to be noted, however, that the serious or 
 sentimental portions thus separated by the 
 stories are to be held to a rigid brevity. The 
 speaker must never forget that his highest 
 achievement is the diverting of his audience 
 by excellence in his array of wit and humor 
 before them. With this consciousness al- 
 ways maintained, he is able to secure the best 
 possible effect. The period that follows the 
 laughter provoked by a story is used for a 
 crisp statement of the graver sort, and after- 
 ward another story is presented. The al- 
 ternations serve each to emphasize the effect 
 of the other. But the note of mirth must 
 be always dominant. 
 
 It seems fitting at this point to offer a word 
 of advice to the speaker anent the advantages 
 sometimes of bringing his address to an un- 
 expectedly abrupt end. This course is ex- 
 
 [56]
 
 PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 
 
 pedient when some particular story is greeted 
 with an excessive outburst of merriment on 
 the part of the audience. Naturally, when a 
 number of tales are included in the speech, 
 it is intended to arrange them in the order 
 of comparative merit, with the best for the last. 
 Of course, none that is without distinctly 
 amusing qualities is to be employed, but, even 
 so, some are sure to excite more laughter by 
 the hearers than do others. Therefore, the 
 speaker plans carefully so to place them as to 
 make the various narratives increasingly ef- 
 fective. Nevertheless, in spite of judicious 
 carefulness in this regard, it sometimes hap- 
 pens that one of the earlier stories in a series 
 arouses most enthusiastic applause and 
 laughter. My advice is that when such a 
 spontaneous success is achieved, he should 
 accept it as a direct providence, and then and 
 there sit down. It is altogether improbable 
 that any of the subsequent stories would make 
 an equal or superior hit. To continue, al- 
 most inevitably, would involve an anticlimax, 
 which is always injurious to an orator's 
 
 CS7]
 
 .AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 prestige. It may, and doubtless will, seem a 
 bitter hardship to the speaker to forego utter- 
 ance of those other gems of sentiment and 
 humor so artfully prepared. But, if he be 
 wise, he will forget his pride in these to 
 rejoice in the impression he has already 
 created on the company. Often, some cir- 
 cumstance wholly unknown to the speaker 
 may influence the situation and score for 
 him an advantage that he could not foresee. 
 
 Out of my own experience, I am able to 
 give a capital illustration of how chance may 
 interfere in a speaker's behalf to gain an 
 effect beyond his wildest hopes. I was called 
 on to deliver an address after a fraternity 
 banquet at the university. There had been 
 a hotly contested foot-ball match that after- 
 noon between the University and a rival in- 
 stitution in which the University won. I 
 was aware of this fact, of course, but as the 
 sequel will show I was by no means aware of 
 certain vital facts relating to the victory. 
 I had perhaps six or eight anedcotes grouped 
 mentally when I rose to speak, with the 
 
 [58]
 
 PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 
 
 necessary plausible excuses for stringing them 
 together. Also, the arrangement of the stories 
 had been carefully considered by me, so that 
 each in turn should appear more meritorious 
 than its predecessor. 
 
 i There was applause enough to satisfy me 
 for the first anecdote and for the second. I 
 then related the third. It had to do with a 
 christening. On the way to the church, the 
 milk escaped from the baby's bottle, and 
 made a frightful mess of the christening robe. 
 The mother was in despair but there was 
 no time to remedy the calamity. It was 
 with shamed embarrassment that she placed 
 her offspring in the arms of the young clergy- 
 man who officiated at the font. As a matter 
 of fact, the curate had troubles of his own that 
 rendered him almost, if not quite oblivious 
 to the bedraggled condition of the infant. 
 It was his first baptismal service, and it was 
 all very trying to his piety, especially the 
 holding of the babe securely within the clutch 
 of one arm and hand as required by the 
 ritual in order that the other hand might be 
 
 [593
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 free for dipping and sprinkling the water. 
 He stumbled somehow through the pre- 
 liminary portion of the service. Then, as 
 he clutched the child fiercely with the one 
 arm, he whispered to the mother: 
 
 "What name?" 
 
 She, good soul, was in an agony of dis- 
 comfort over the baby's disreputable condi- 
 tion. Since that occupied her thoughts to 
 the exclusion of all else, she failed utterly to 
 understand the whisper, and supposed that 
 the clergyman was protesting against the de- 
 plorable untidiness of her progeny. She hur- 
 ried to whisper an excuse — an explanation: 
 
 "Nozzle come off! Nozzle come off!'* 
 
 "What?" demanded the puzzled curate. 
 
 And again the distracted mother whispered 
 desperately: 
 
 "Nozzle come off! Nozzle come off!" 
 
 There was no time for further investigation. 
 So as he dipped his fingers Into the water, he 
 spoke aloud with a sonorous fervor that filled 
 all the place, and eke astonished all the con- 
 gregation : 
 
 [60]
 
 PREPARATION OF AN ADDRESS 
 
 "Nozzlecomeoff Snyder, 1 baptize thee in 
 the name of the Father and of the Son and 
 of the Holy Ghost." 
 
 There was a riot. I had thought on the 
 instant, pandemonium broke loose. The air 
 was filled with shouts and cheers. Through 
 the din, I could make out many voices crying: 
 "Nozzlecome off Snyder!" I sat down. I did 
 not understand just what had happened, but 
 whatever it was it had happened, and this was 
 no time for further speechmaking. The boys 
 were on their feet now, weaving and milling 
 about the room. The older alumni were 
 shaking with the laughter in their chairs and 
 roaring approval. The yelling became rhyth- 
 mic, and the burden of it was, "Nozzlecomeoff 
 Snyder!" . . . My own name sounded with 
 cheers. But the great paean was, *'Nozzle- 
 comeoff Snyder!" 
 
 I had made a hit — a stupendous hit. 
 
 There was not a doubt of it. The ending 
 
 of my speech, to me so utterly unexpected, 
 
 was a most magnificent triumph. As to the 
 
 why of it, I had not the faintest idea. Then, 
 
 [61]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 presently, I saw a husky lad borne aloft on 
 the shoulders of his fellows, who danced in 
 serpentine to the measure of a weird chant: 
 "Nozzlecomeoff Snyder! Nozzlecomeoff 
 Snyder!" 
 
 Little by little, understanding dawned on 
 my bemused wits. Pure chance had thus 
 glorified my effort to entertain. Perhaps I 
 sighed secretly over those excellent stories 
 that would remain untold. But I thanked 
 my lucky stars for the accident that had led 
 me to make Snyder the family name of the 
 mussed-up infant. And, though 1 had not 
 known the fact, it was Snyder who, that 
 afternoon by a tremendous run, had won the 
 match for the university — Snyder, of our 
 fraternity, now grinning sheepishly at me 
 from his position on the shoulders of his 
 fellows. . . . And the absurd nickname stuck. 
 To his intimates, he is still Nozzlecomeoff 
 Snyder to-day. 
 
 [62]
 
 Chapter VII 
 MENTAL MEMORANDA 
 
 IT is important to the speaker that he 
 should be free from any possibihty of 
 forgetting the various heads for his dis- 
 course, whether this be long or short. 
 But he should not permit himself any depend- 
 ence on written notes during the time of his 
 appearance before an audience. He may 
 make use of pencil and paper at will in the 
 preparation of his remarks, but his reliance 
 on the written word must cease when the task 
 of preparation is ended. It is all very well 
 for a clergyman to have recourse to written 
 notes while speaking from the pulpit, or even 
 to read his entire sermon, since such evidence 
 of serious preparation for the occasion is 
 befitting the gravity of time and place. It 
 is quite otherwise with the speaker whose 
 
 [63 ]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 appearance follows the hour of feasting. Here, 
 the atmosphere is one of good-will and jollity, 
 and any sign of actual effort on the speaker's 
 part stands out conspicuously in opposition 
 to the prevailing spirit of the gathering. kThe 
 moment that written memoranda are con- 
 sulted, the act operates to antagonize the 
 seeming spontaneity that should characterize 
 the undertaking of the speaker. No matter 
 how elaborate may have been the study 
 privately given by him in advance to the 
 elaboration of his remarks, to the contriving 
 of witty sallies and humorous illustrations, 
 there must be no trace of this serious work in 
 the sprightliness of the finished product. 
 The use of notes presents undeniable proofs 
 of a laborious getting ready for the task, and 
 completely dispels the pleasing illusion on the 
 part of the audience as to the extemporaneous 
 character of the speaker's eloquence. 
 
 As a matter of fact, mental notes that are 
 thoroughly dependable are readily made. 
 With a little practise, the employment of 
 them becomes more convenient and simpler 
 
 • [64]
 
 MENTAL MEMORANDA 
 
 than reliance on the written memoranda. 
 The method is, briefly, as follows: 
 
 It is a law of the mind in the operation of 
 memory that the concrete is preferred to the 
 abstract. There is vagueness in abstract 
 ideas, which renders them difficult to fix and 
 distinguish in the recollection; while the 
 concrete object is something exact, of which 
 the mental impression is sharply outlined. 
 Ordinarily, the chief agent in memory is 
 visualization. The mind fashions a picture, 
 and this picture of the thing to be remembered 
 is stored away, to be reproduced as demanded 
 by recollection. The abstract idea cannot, 
 of course, be pictured in the mind, and for 
 that reason the memory of abstractions is 
 difficult; but the escape from a dilemma here 
 is easy enough. It is necessary only to sub- 
 stitute something concrete that shall serv^e as 
 the representative of any abstraction it is 
 required to recall at will. This device is well 
 adapted to fulfill the requirements of the 
 speaker in memorizing the various ideas of 
 
 an address. There is always something that 
 
 [65]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 will suffice as a material symbol of an imma- 
 terial idea. Something that when recalled 
 will inevitably bring with it ample suggestion 
 of the desired thought. Thus, a mental 
 picture of the Capitol at Washington would 
 serve as a concrete memory to recall the 
 subject of the government of the United 
 States. The Capitol building is a definite 
 thing, and as such capable of being pictured 
 by the brain. The Government of the United 
 States, on the other hand, is an abstract idea, 
 of which no picture can be formed in the 
 mind. But the association of ideas operates 
 under another law of memory, so that in such 
 an instance the concrete object, which is so 
 intimately associated with the idea, becomes 
 an efficient symbol of that idea, and its 
 presence in the memory carries with it 
 memory also of the abstraction. If the 
 speaker has as one of the heads in his address 
 the Government of the United States, the 
 mental picture of the Capitol is an ample 
 guarantee for recollection of the subject. 
 
 In the formation of the mental pictures 
 
 [66]
 
 MENTAL MEMORANDA 
 
 necessary in this method, care must be taken 
 to concentrate on each one. An effort must 
 be made to shut everything else out of con- 
 sciousness for a few moments, while the at- 
 tention is wholly fixed on the particular con- 
 crete object to be remembered. The greater 
 the concentration, the stronger the memory. 
 Such concentration is, indeed, the chief factor 
 in memory. It may be forced by outward 
 circumstances, as where some scene of fright- 
 ful peril in a person's experience is indelibly 
 engraved in remembrance. Or the concen- 
 tration may come from joyous interest, and 
 establish a recollection almost equally per- 
 manent. But, too, the concentration should 
 be subject to the control of the will, and it is 
 so uniformly in the person of good memory. 
 Any speaker who finds his ability to remember 
 too tricky for dependence, may be sure that 
 the fault lies in a lack of concentration. This 
 lack must be corrected. The task is not 
 too difficult, and the rewards make the labor 
 involved well worth while. 
 
 In the use of the concrete symbols, their 
 
 C67]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 orderly arrangement in the memory is secured 
 by subjecting them to the mental law con- 
 cerning the association of ideas. Let us sup- 
 pose, for example, that a speaker at a civic 
 banquet wishes to refer to the thriving con- 
 dition of the schools, the churches, the in- 
 dustries, and to the patriotic response of the 
 city under the demands of war, along with a 
 humorous story for the finish. He must 
 select a concrete object as the symbol for 
 each idea. Obviously, a school house with 
 the children issuing gives a sufficient picture 
 to suggest the topic of the schools, and simi- 
 larly, a church and a mill properly represent 
 the churches and the industries. The pa- 
 triotic zeal of the town may be symbolized 
 by a soldier in uniform. It should be noted 
 that the various pictures are to be made as 
 real as possible in the mental impression. It is 
 here that concentration is especially import- 
 ant in order to obtain an exact effect. Finally, 
 there must be the choosing of a concrete sym- 
 bol that shall inevitably bring to mind the 
 
 amusing anecdote. By way of example, let 
 
 [68]
 
 MENTAL MEMORANDA 
 
 us imagine that the speaker concludes his 
 tribute to the city by a word of appreciation 
 or regret over the presence or absence, as the 
 case may be, of gondolas on the artificial 
 water in the park. His memory of this point 
 will be adequately supplied by the mental 
 picture of a gondola. When he reaches this 
 place in his speech, he will by some such refer- 
 ence introduce his story told good-naturedly 
 at the expense of the local board of aldermen, 
 somewhat after this style : 
 
 When the subject of park improvements 
 was debated, Alderman Meeks urged the 
 purchase of a dozen gondolas to be placed 
 in the lake. Alderman Rafferty spoke in 
 hearty support of the project, but suggested 
 an amendment, in the interests of economy. 
 
 "For why," he concluded earnestly, "should 
 we be at the expinse of buyin' an intire dozen 
 of gondolas? Would it not be betther, now 
 Oi ax ye, to buy a pair, a male an' a female, 
 an' to let nature take its coorse?" 
 
 For the purposes of memorization in this 
 instance, the speaker now has five concrete 
 
 [69:
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 objects. It next becomes necessary for him 
 to establish a memory of these in their order. 
 It is now that he is to employ the association 
 of ideas in connection with the mental pic- 
 turing. The first topic is the schools, which 
 is represented by the photograph in the brain 
 of a schoolhouse with the children issuing from 
 it. The next topic is that of the churches for 
 which a church building stands as the symbol. 
 These two pictures are to be brought together. 
 With the eyes shut, there must be concentra- 
 tion on the schoolhouse scene and at the same 
 time on a church standing at the right side 
 of the school. These two buildings in con- 
 junction must be seen distinctly. It will be 
 found that afterward recollection of the school 
 will bring with it recollection of the church. 
 The appearance of either picture in the mind 
 will involve the appearance beside it of the 
 other. When the first two symbols have 
 been thus paired, the symbols for the second 
 and third topics of the speech must be simi- 
 larly presented in association within the mind. 
 The new picture shows nothing of the school, 
 
 [70]
 
 MENTAL MEMORANDA 
 
 but the church is again present and on its 
 right in the mental picture stands the mill, 
 which typifies the industries of the town. 
 Next, this mill and the soldier in uniform are 
 joined as subjects for the brain's concentra- 
 tion. The last pair includes the soldier and 
 the gondola. If such pairing of the symbols 
 and concentration on the successive pairs is 
 properly done, there can be no failure of the 
 memory. Instantly, at thought of the school- 
 house, the church also appears. As the school 
 is shut from the picture, the mill appears to 
 the right of the church. In like fashion, the 
 soldier tags after the mill. When the mill 
 vanishes, the gondola comes to accompany the 
 man in uniform. 
 
 This system of arranging the symbols in 
 order may be employed for any number of 
 topics. It is necessary only first to determine 
 the choice of a concrete object that shall 
 clearly suggest the topic, and then, second, to 
 concentrate on the paired symbols, in the 
 manner indicated above, whatever may be 
 their number. 
 
 [71]
 
 Chapter VIII 
 AN HISTORICAL ADDRESS 
 
 LET us, for the purpose of illustrating 
 further the principles already ex- 
 plained, consider the case of a 
 speaker who has been designated 
 to deliver an address at a banquet commem- 
 orating an important historical event. Assume 
 that the occasion is a celebration of Colum- 
 bus Day, and that to the speaker has been 
 assigned a particular subject, for example, 
 "Our Country." He is now to prepare an 
 outline of his address. 
 
 In the first place, the speaker is to hold 
 firmly in mind that his duty is to entertain, 
 rather than to parade learning, to teach, or 
 otherwise to edify his hearers. He may 
 be sure, also, that other speakers of the 
 evening will provide more than a sufficiency 
 of serious speeches with depressing effect. He 
 
 [72]
 
 AN HISTORICAL ADDRESS 
 
 himself will not be guilty of the like fault. 
 But he is confronted with a subject of high 
 dignity, one naturally suggesting a treatment 
 earnest and profound, a display of the noblest 
 eloquence. Nevertheless, the speaker must 
 deny the lure of this lofty theme, and by an 
 effort of ingenuity so contrived that it shall 
 serve as a pretext for the amusing discourse 
 he meditates. The result of such resolve 
 might be something like the following: 
 
 After addressing the presiding officer by 
 his title for the occasion, whatever it may be, 
 and the company, the speaker may proceed: 
 
 "I had prepared some v/eighty reflections 
 on 'Our Country' — without meaning any 
 reflections on our country. But most of the 
 things I had meant to say have already been 
 said by the speakers before me, or soon will 
 be by the others to follow, I suspect. I have, 
 however, one quite important thought left to 
 me, which I shall now mention. It has to do 
 with the very interesting fact that eggs is, or 
 maybe are, eggs. Yet, what a difference! 
 For, as everybody knows, eggs are either good 
 
 [73]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 or bad. On rare occasions, they are better; 
 usually, they are worse. But, while this 
 truth is familiar to all, most persons fail to 
 appreciate eggs in their higher aspects. It is 
 my purpose to show how eggs may be signifi- 
 cant historically. I propose to offer an egg 
 as a symbol to indicate the greatness of our 
 country in its humor. Its value thus is em- 
 phasized by contrast with the egg of Colum- 
 bus. Columbus, when no other could balance 
 the egg on its small end, achieved success by 
 smashing the shell into a flat base. At once, 
 the egg became famous. It appears through- 
 out subsequent history as an illustration of 
 smashing efficiency. I desire to offer as a 
 rival for its fame another egg, an American 
 egg, a humorous egg. There was nothing 
 funny about Columbus and his egg, but Bill 
 Nye's egg was the very dickens. 
 
 "First of all, we must note the fact that 
 Nye's egg wasn't really an egg: it was his 
 head. Everybody knows that the great 
 humorist was bald. Not only so, he was bald 
 as an egg. People told him so, and, anyhow, 
 
 [74]
 
 AN HISTORICAL ADDRESS 
 
 he knew it himself. The baldness on the 
 outside of his head preyed on the inside of it, 
 and to be rid of that trouble he concocted a 
 story, probably on the theory that open con- 
 fession soothes grief. The tale was to this 
 effect : 
 
 "Once, in the midst of an African desert. 
 Bill Nye was captured by horrible savages. 
 They were not Cannibals, or, if so, they were 
 finicky about bald humorist, who probably 
 would make tough eating. Anyhow, they 
 did not wound or slay their victim: they 
 merely buried him in the sand to the neck, 
 and left him alone with his thoughts. 
 
 **For two days, that hapless bald pate 
 cooked under the torrid rays of the African 
 sun. The contents became addled which 
 perhaps was just as well in view of the event 
 that next occurred. 
 
 "A female ostrich came out of the horizon, 
 and since there was nothing else to see she 
 at once espied the glistening cranium showing 
 above the sand. She galloped toward it joy- 
 ously, thrilled by a maternal instinct. 'My 
 
 [75]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 long-lost egg!* she clucked. She sprinted, 
 she arrived, she squatted — in fact, she set 
 herself to set. The man was powerless to 
 resist the mistaken efforts of the motherly 
 creature. His position was humiliating, but 
 the shade was welcome. 
 
 "I am not just certain concerning the 
 period of incubation for ostrich eggs. But, 
 whatever that period may be, we may believe 
 that this faithful bird observed it scrupulously. 
 At due intervals, under the impulse of that 
 wonderful force called instinct, she stood up 
 and clawed industriously at the bald head, 
 to insure an even development of the chick. 
 When, at last, the time limit was reached, the 
 ostrich, with motherly eagerness, scratched 
 and pecked at the hairless skull in a manner 
 truly unpleasant. But Nye concentrated all 
 his remaining energies in a desperate resist- 
 ance, and refused to hatch. 
 
 **The humorist concluded the narrative 
 abruptly by declaring: 
 
 *'*And from that day to this I have never 
 dared to look a hen in the face!'" 
 
 [76]
 
 AN HISTORICAL ADDRESS 
 
 Now, undeniably, this brief form of address 
 contains nothing save the veriest nonsense. 
 But such nonsense, uttered with a certain 
 whimsicaUty of manner, is well calculated to 
 afford highly appreciated relief to an audience 
 a trifle wearied by more learned and weightier 
 discourses. The effect will be that the speaker 
 is remembered with pleasure as one who con- 
 tributed genuine entertainment to the occa- 
 sion. In fine, the effect will be to enhance 
 the speaker's reputation in the way he most 
 desires, as that of one who has the ability to 
 speak lightly, gracefully and amusingly on 
 any subject, before any gathering. 
 
 In']
 
 Chapter IX 
 ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 
 
 IT has already been made sufficiently clear 
 that the chief aim of the after-dinner 
 speaker should be to entertain the com- 
 pany, and that such entertainment should 
 find its main reliance in the wit and humor of 
 the address. This fact must never be lost 
 sight of. The speaker is constantly in danger 
 of being too serious in his remarks. Often, 
 the occasion itself is such as to encourage the 
 parade of heavy utterances by the orator. 
 This is especially the case on anniversaries, or 
 whenever an historical interest is attached to 
 the occasion. The tendency then is to dis- 
 course at length on the particular event com- 
 memorated, to discuss the significance of it, 
 and to draw from it such lessons as it may 
 offer. But this tendency should be resisted 
 
 [78]
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 
 
 by the speaker who desires to attain a reputa- 
 tion for particular ability in the art of after- 
 dinner oratory. There are always those who 
 exploit the serious phases of any occasion, 
 and indeed they are so numerous as often to 
 make tedious the gatherings at which they are 
 present. In consequence, the speaker in 
 lighter vein readily achieves a very real dis- 
 tinction, an honorable fame for the unfailing 
 merit of his addresses. It is recommended, 
 therefore, that the humorous contents of the 
 speech be the deep concern always in its 
 preparation. This by no means forbids the 
 most graceful eloquence, or the presentation 
 of the most brilliant thoughts of the graver 
 sort, but it insists that the entertaining quality 
 which provokes smiles and laughter be the 
 principal feature in every instance. Thus, 
 on an anniversary, the speaker may properly 
 briefly sketch the event commemorated, and 
 make clear some aspect of its meaning. When 
 a person is the principal speaker, it becomes 
 fitting that he should give a larger attention 
 to this serious portion of the speech. Dis- 
 
 [79]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 cretion in this regard must be employed, ac- 
 cording to the particular circumstances. Even 
 so, however, the wit and humor are by no 
 means to be neglected. Yet, the after-dinner 
 speech, it must be remembered, is in a class 
 by itself. In considering it, we should not be 
 led astray by confounding it with the graver 
 forms of oratory. Sometimes, it is true, the 
 two varieties of speech-making must be inter- 
 mingled in a single address as in the case to 
 which reference has just been made. Never- 
 theless, the after-dinner speaker must reso- 
 lutely resist the temptation to become ora- 
 torical in the heavier sense of the word. Nor 
 must he belittle the honor to be attained in 
 his own field. He can be entertaining with 
 no loss of dignity, and by his skill he may win 
 an enviable reputation, of which any man 
 might well be proud. Moreover, he may find 
 a very real happiness in the consciousness 
 that his efforts give happiness to others. To 
 please and divert a body of hearers and to send 
 them away with enduring memories of en- 
 joyment is surely no ignoble task. It con- 
 
 [So]
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 
 
 trasts to great advantage against the weariness 
 engendered by many a graver orator. 
 
 Always, the preparation by the speaker 
 must devise some ingenious expedient for the 
 introduction of the story or stories. He must 
 contrive to emphasize an aspect of his subject 
 that may be logically related to the anecdote. 
 This matter of the application is, in fact, his 
 justification for the entertaining narrative. It 
 requires, sometimes, careful consideration to 
 discover in just what manner a preferred story 
 may be related to a certain subject, with 
 which it has no apparent connection. But 
 practise in this regard will develop speedily a 
 fair degree of facility, and this, in turn, will 
 grow into a resourcefulness by which the 
 speaker becomes competent to take any good 
 story and adapt it to the exigencies of any 
 subject as required. Thus, the use of the 
 name Snyder made the anecdote of a christen- 
 ing hilariously applicable to the circumstances 
 of a football triumph, though pure chance here 
 did the work of adaptation. 
 
 Of course, there are often stories that of 
 
 [8i]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 themselves are suitable especially to certain 
 occasions, so that no ingenuity is required in 
 establishing their appropriateness. The fol- 
 lowing are examples of anecdotes in which the 
 applicability is obvious. 
 
 The first illustration has to do with a speech 
 made after a Christmas Dinner. It should 
 be noted here that the hour following the feast 
 is not the time for the expression of lofty 
 thoughts. It may be assumed that the re- 
 ligious character of the season has been given 
 due attention elsewhere. It is now the period 
 for genial social enjoyment, and only a very 
 few words, if any, should be spoken in serious 
 mood. But, by way of introducing a par- 
 ticularly appropriate story, short reference 
 may be made to the significance of the giving 
 of gifts in celebrating this great feast day of 
 the church and to the kindly mjrth of Santa 
 Claus. This serves directly to justify the 
 illustrative story, which may be indicated as 
 follows, although it should be elaborated in 
 the telling according to the ability of the 
 
 speaker to make it amusing throughout: 
 
 [82]
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 
 
 A little boy returned home with a black 
 eye. In response to the solicitous questioning 
 of his mother, he admitted that he had had 
 a fight with one of his fellows, whom he had 
 thrashed. He explained that the disagree- 
 ment had had its origin in the fact that the 
 other boy denied the existence of Santa 
 Claus. 
 
 The mother reflected that perhaps her son 
 had now reached an age when one of the 
 tender illusions of childhood must speedily 
 be shattered rudely by others, if not gently 
 by herself. So, she took the little fellow on 
 her lap, and revealed to him the fact that the 
 good old saint was indeed no more than a 
 creation of kindly fancy. The boy listened in 
 silence, and it was still without a word of 
 comment that he got down from his mother's 
 lap, and went to the door. But, in the door- 
 way, he turned with a question: 
 
 '*Say, ma! have you been foolin' me all this 
 time about the devil, too.'"' 
 
 Similarly, on Washington's Birthday any 
 story that has to do with lying is applicable 
 
 [83]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 by reason of George's record for truth telling 
 in the episode of the cherry tree. Indeed, 
 always, applicability is obvious concerning 
 opposites, just as here there is the relationship 
 between lying and truth telling. But, as 
 will be found on reading, this story from its 
 point is particularly pertinent. 
 
 One of the visitors to a home for colored 
 orphan children observed one of the pickan- 
 ninies neatly trussed to a bed-post. Some- 
 what indignant at the form of punishment, 
 she inquired of an attendant concerning the 
 offense committed by the culprit. 
 
 "He's been lyin', ma'am," was the ex- 
 planation. "He's always a-lyin'. He shore 
 is the very worstest, lyin'est nigger I ever did 
 see." 
 
 "What's his name?" the visitor demanded. 
 
 And the attendant answered: 
 
 "George Washington, ma'am." 
 
 It is not advantageous to multiply examples 
 in regard to stories where the point is plainly 
 related to the subject matter of the address. 
 But illustrations of the manner in which a 
 
 [84]
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES 
 
 story may be related to a subject with which, 
 at first glance, it has apparently nothing to 
 do, are well worth further attention of the 
 part of the speaker, since they will serve in 
 some measure to stimulate his own ingenuity. 
 Such illustrations by means of various stories 
 and of suggestions as to their possible applica- 
 tion will be found in the next chapter. 
 
 C85]
 
 Chapter X 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 WHILE a perfectly satisfactory- 
 effect may be secured by the 
 employment of a story in 
 which the point quite ob- 
 viously applies to the subject matter of the 
 address, it is a fact that oftentimes a special 
 hit may be scored through the ingenious 
 adaptation of an anecdote to some matter 
 with which, seemingly at first, it is totally 
 unrelated. The wise speaker selects a story, 
 one that in itself is the very best possible. 
 He bases his choice solely on the merit of the 
 tale as one sure to delight his audience. He 
 is then confronted with the further task of 
 reconciling the story to his subject matter. 
 In doing this, he must discover some method 
 by which the narrative may be made logically 
 
 appropriate in illustration of his thought. 
 
 [86]
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 And just here comes a curious and gratifying 
 reward of labor. For oftentimes, even usu- 
 ally, in questing for a rational excuse in the 
 joining of tale and theme, his thoughts will 
 be stirred to an activity out of which issue 
 ideas interesting and valuable. It is in this 
 wise that he may gain much material of a 
 cleverly whimsical sort, of which otherwise 
 he would never have thought. The seeking 
 to justify a purely artificial relation begets 
 products that are very frequently astonishing 
 and amusing. Humor itself is many times 
 merely a form of the grotesque. The juxta- 
 position of things not naturally thus asso- 
 ciated in the mind is often the cause of 
 laughter. For that matter, the orderly and 
 logical mind is not likely to display great 
 humorous ability. A lack of soundness in 
 the mental processes may manifest in mad- 
 ness, or in — humor of the grotesque sort. 
 For example, the ordinary man of sound mind 
 does not naturally think of practising a thing 
 and of not practising it in a single action. 
 The contradiction is so opposed to good sense 
 
 [87 3
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 that the thought does not even enter his mind. 
 But not so of the humorist. The absurd, the 
 impossible, is spontaneous in his brain. Mark 
 Twain wrote in an autograph album: "Never 
 tell a lie." At the end of the sentence, he 
 placed a star. At the bottom of the page, 
 the star was repeated for a foot-note, which 
 read: "Except for practise." Here is a crazy 
 contradiction that is very laughable. But a 
 really logical brain could never conceive the 
 like. Even more extravagant was the decla- 
 ration of a mad gentleman of Verona. This 
 lunatic was harmless, and was permitted to 
 wander at will. On one occasion, he paid a 
 visit to a resident of the city, to whom he 
 explained that he was the angel Michael. A 
 year later, he called at the same house a 
 second time. He now explained to his host 
 that he was the angel Gabriel. The host 
 ventured a remonstrance: 
 
 "But you told me last year that you were 
 the angel Michael, and now you say that you 
 are the angel Gabriel. How do you explain 
 
 that? You can't be both of them!" 
 
 [88]
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 "Oh, yes, I am," the madman cheerfully 
 replied, without the slightest trace of hesita- 
 tion. "But by different mothers." 
 
 As he experiments with the establishment 
 of artificial relation between tale and text, 
 the speaker will constantly find ideas of a 
 more or less absurd or whimsical character 
 presented for his consideration, and out of the 
 mass he will be able to avail himself of thoughts 
 that will help to establish his reputation for 
 cleverness. 
 
 , Let us, then, consider somewhat carefully 
 a few stories of which the natural application 
 is obvious, with a view of discovering other 
 ways in which its significance may be made 
 available. 
 
 There is an amusing story of an Irishman 
 and a ghost. Pat was making his way through 
 a wood at night, when he suddenly felt a draft 
 of cold air, and, on looking up, saw before 
 him a ghost. The spectre showed every evi- 
 dence of amiability, for he was nodding and 
 grinning in the most pleasant and sociable 
 manner imaginable. The man, however, re- 
 
 C89]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 fused to be bamboozled by any overtures from 
 a source so ghastly. He turned and fled 
 down the path at top speed. He went rushing 
 onward until his breath came only in stran- 
 gling gasps. Yet, a horrified glance over his 
 shoulder showed the ghost floating easily 
 alongside, still nodding and grinning with an 
 air of dreadful jollity. At last, Pat, utterly 
 spent, dropped on a log by the path, and sat 
 sweating and panting, in a tremor of mingled 
 fatigue and terror. And presently he looked 
 up, to see the ghost sitting on the other 
 end of the log. The uncanny apparition con- 
 tinued bobbing its gruesome head and mow- 
 ing with the utmost good nature. And now 
 words issued from the phantom, a sibilant 
 whisper that echoed coldly in the Irishman's 
 heart. 
 
 "That was a fine run we had," said the 
 ghost. 
 
 "Yis, sorr," Pat'agreed, in a trembling voice. 
 "And as soon as I catch me brith, we'll have 
 another!" 
 
 Now, here is a story that is obviously con- 
 
 [90:
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 cerning a ghost, and it might be appropriately 
 told by a frivolous speaker at a banquet of 
 the Society for Physical Research, if that 
 grave body of inquisitors ever indulges in such 
 a material pastime as feasting. But such 
 obvious applicability of the story is by no 
 means the limit of its possible usefulness. 
 On the contrary, its very obviousness in this 
 direction detracts somewhat from its merit. 
 It becomes more effective when applied to a 
 subject not so directly implied by the situa- 
 tion. It might be used advantageously to 
 illustrate the quality of persistence, or the 
 courage for repeated effort in the face of trial 
 and failure. So, too, it might serve to em- 
 phasize moral bravery as opposed to physical 
 cowardice. But it would give an excellent 
 flavor if introduced in a talk on forestry. 
 The speaker might then air his learning by 
 some remarks as to religious antiquities, such 
 as the tree-worship of ancient races and the 
 classical spirits of the wood, dryad and 
 hamadryad and their various relatives and 
 so lead to the weird spell exercised by sylvan 
 
 [91]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 shades. He might cite the fact that a boy 
 whistles to keep his spirits up when passing 
 a graveyard at night or when going through 
 the woods, and for the same reason in each 
 case. At this point, the speaker will have suffi- 
 ciently established a relation between the 
 forest and ghosts, and his story will seem 
 entirely appropriate. 
 
 The like method is to be employed in every 
 case. 
 
 A New England couple celebrated their 
 diamond wedding. They were not only very 
 old; they were also very healthy. To one 
 of the guests at the celebration who was ex- 
 claiming over the old lady's rosy cheeks and 
 brisk movements the ancient bride declared 
 proudly : 
 
 "Amos and me are mighty peart. There 
 ain't nothin' much ever troubled Amos, 
 'cept a spell of rheumatiz last winter. And 
 I ain't had a sick day for more'n fifty years — 
 'cept one day arter Amos done dosin' with 
 what the Doctor give him, an' I took what 
 was left in the bottle, to save it." 
 
 [92]
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 The obvious application of this story is to 
 the subject of thrift, since the old woman 
 has no earthly need of medicine, but feels it 
 her duty to avoid any waste of something 
 bought and paid for. Probably she felt a 
 certain satisfaction even in being sick, since 
 thus she got something for her money. But 
 the application of the story might be extended 
 to subjects wholly unrelated with thrift. It 
 could be used to illustrate the popular fond- 
 ness for patent medicines. It would entertain 
 at a dinner of the Druggists Association. It 
 equally would amuse the medical fraternity. 
 Moreover, by emphasizing various phases of 
 the story, it might be told with effect on 
 almost any occasion. A few words as to the 
 preciousness of diamonds and the rarity of 
 diamond jubilees would provide an adequate 
 introduction at a dinner of the Jewellers' 
 Society. Of course, it could easily be adapted 
 to a wedding feast or any wedding anniversary. 
 
 Another story of thrift as the ruling passion 
 even in the face of death may be cited. 
 
 A New England wife, who had attained 
 
 [93 ]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 local celebrity for the immaculateness of her 
 housekeeping regarded her husband with stern 
 disapproval. The old man was abed and 
 suffering acutely. The physican had an- 
 nounced that the illness must terminate fatally. 
 The man rolled and tossed in a vain effort to 
 find relief from pain. It was this activity 
 on his part that excited the wife's disapproba- 
 tion. She addressed him presently in a 
 voice of cold authority : 
 
 "John Henry, you needn't kick and squirm 
 so, an' wear them best sheets out, even if you 
 bea-dyin'I" 
 
 Here, again, no limitation as to the possible 
 usefulness of the story is imposed by its direct 
 applicability. By a necessary touch here or 
 there in the narrative, it may be made suitable 
 to a great number of occasions. It could 
 illustrate the sternness of the Puritan char- 
 acter, and be given appropriately after a 
 Plymouth Rock dinner. Or it could be 
 quoted to drygoods dealers. It might even 
 be applied in illustration of any ruling passion, 
 or stern adherence to duty at the cost of 
 
 [94]
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 tenderness in the very face of death. It 
 might well rejoice a bachelor's club or a house- 
 keeper's league. Probably, it would be relished 
 by the Amalgamated Undertakers. And so, 
 and so on. The possibilities are by no menas 
 exhausted. 
 
 The stories given above are short, yet the 
 manner in which their application may be 
 varied has been clearly shown. The capacity 
 for adaptation is increased in longer narratives, 
 since these afford an opportunity to include 
 any desired reference in the setting by which 
 it may be made harmonious to the needs of 
 the occasion. 
 
 A certain gentleman was one of a party of 
 visitors to a lunatic asylum. He was much 
 impressed by many features of the institution, 
 but particularly by the seeming sanity ex- 
 hibited by most of the inmates. One patient 
 especially attracted his favorable regard. In 
 a conversation of some length, the unfortunate 
 man showed an intelligence much above the 
 average, and there was nothing in speech or 
 manner to suggest a mind deranged. The 
 
 C9S]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 visitor and the maniac walked about the 
 building together, and at last the inmate 
 became confidential in response to the sym- 
 pathetic attention of his listener. Explained 
 that the avarice of relatives had been the 
 actual cause of his incarceration in this insti- 
 tution for the insane. He had detected the 
 plot against him, and in order to oppose it 
 he had secretly converted a large amount of 
 securities into banknotes and gold, with the 
 idea of thus possessing funds in case his 
 property should be tied up by legal proceedings 
 against him. Secretly, at dead of night, he 
 buried this sum of money in a secluded spot 
 known only to himself. Then, unfortunately, 
 the unexpectedly swift action of his enemies 
 brought. his plans of defense to naught. He 
 was seized and shut up in the lunatic asylum, 
 and as yet he had been unable to make use 
 of the money hidden by him. He now pro- 
 posed to the visitor that the latter should aid 
 him in his extremity. He offered to give full 
 directions for finding the buried treasure, with 
 a furthef offer of one-half the amount as a 
 
 [96]
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 gift, provided the other half should be devoted 
 to obtaining his release from confinement. 
 
 The visitor was skeptical as to the truth of 
 the story, but he maintained an air of credulity 
 to avoid any danger of exciting the lunatic 
 unduly. He listened sympathetically, and 
 finally, in response to the other's urging, agreed 
 to act in his behalf. He accepted the proff^ered 
 gift of half the mone}^, and solemnly promised 
 to employ the remainder toward securing the 
 freedom of its owner. The lunatic then gave 
 explicit instructions for finding the spot where 
 the money had been buried. The visitor 
 vowed to lose no time in retrieving the treasure 
 and in applying it to the proposed project. 
 
 As the two men walked on together, the 
 crazed one was insistent that the other should 
 not forget his promise, and the visitor re- 
 iterated his assurances that he would not 
 fail. 
 
 Presently, the party of guests assembled 
 on the veranda, about to take their departure. 
 The man who had promised to seek the hidden 
 funds was standing at the head of the high 
 
 [97]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 steps leading to the driveway, when the 
 lunatic again approached, sidling up to him 
 stealthily, in a manner at once crafty and 
 suspicious. 
 
 "You won't forget?" he whispered threat- 
 eningly. 
 
 "No, no, certainly not," the visitor declared 
 hastily, with nervous emphasis. 
 
 "You're sure.? You won't forget.'"' the 
 crazy man demanded again. 
 
 "I won't forget," was the earnest reply 
 soothingly spoken. 
 
 The visitor turned to descend the steps. 
 On the instant, he received a kick that sent 
 him tumbling to sprawl on the gravel of the 
 driveway. 
 
 "What on earth did you do that for?" he 
 cried out wrathfully as he scrambled to his 
 feet. 
 
 The maniac grinned down in high glee from 
 his place at the head of the steps. 
 
 "That," he exclaimed crisply, "is in case 
 you forget!" 
 
 In an instance such as this, the narrative 
 
 L983
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 is of a sort to permit elaboration of details to 
 any desired extent. Such elaboration may 
 be so directed as to make the story applicable 
 to a chosen theme, whatever that theme may 
 be. The very fact that the tale has no 
 distinctively obvious quality as did the anec- 
 dotes of thrift given above, affords it a 
 character of an elastic sort, bendable as 
 desired. Thus it might be twisted to apply 
 as an illustration to the subject of etiquette, 
 for it is a rule of propriety in visiting an 
 insane asylum to humor the patients, never 
 to antagonize them. But it illustrates also 
 the necessity for discretion, even of caution, 
 in our acts of politeness or kindness, lest we 
 receive a kick. And the story is easily 
 related to such subjects as state institutions 
 in general, the duties of official visitors, the 
 vagaries of crazed persons, the lure of buried 
 treasure, the laws concerning the confinement 
 of the mentally diseased. By making the 
 visitor really believe the lunatic's yarn, the 
 way is opened to various other applications, 
 concerning such matters as credulousness, 
 
 C99]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 avarice, rewards and punishments, high hopes 
 and bitter disillusion. Other adaptations 
 might be effected by changes in the setting of 
 the narrative. By locating the asylum in a 
 particular place, it becomes suited to any 
 gathering in the region adjacent. By dis- 
 tinguishing the visitor as a plumber or a 
 master mason, a relationship is established 
 that fits it for the assembly of either plumbers 
 or masons. And, here again, the list of 
 possible applications is not exhausted. Rather, 
 the illustrations are intended only as sug- 
 gestions of the manner in which the useful- 
 ness of certain story may be varied. The 
 actual scope of such variation is limited only 
 by the seeker's ingenuity. 
 
 It seems well to give the speaker a few 
 words of advice concerning the choice of his 
 stories. It may surprise him to be told that 
 it is usually more expedient to choose the 
 old tale rather than the new. The reasons 
 for this are twofold. In the first place, the 
 new story travels the rounds with a celerity 
 
 truly amazing. Means of communication are 
 
 Cioo]
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 so multiplied in the modern community, and 
 social intercourse is so constant that the latest 
 humorous anecdote is speedily made known 
 to almost every one. Therefore, if the speaker 
 put his reliance on the story of the moment, he 
 is likely to have it fall flat. The audience 
 has already laughed itself weary of this par- 
 ticular jest. In the second place, the anti- 
 quated narrative has been dead and buried so 
 long that on its resurrection it is recognizable 
 by few, if any hearers. As a matter of fact, 
 certain essentially amusing situations are 
 forever cropping up in our humorous narra- 
 tives. The characters involved and the 
 setting of dialogue or action are varied to 
 meet the requirements of contemporary en- 
 tertainment, but the substance of the plot 
 remains the same. It has been sarcastically 
 declared that all jokes may be traced to 
 three originals, though constantly paraded 
 under multitudinous disguises. It is not true, 
 nor would it be true if the number were set at 
 three hundred. But the exaggeration itself 
 serves to impress on us an appreciation of the 
 
 [loi]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 fact. The real identity of a humorous in- 
 cident survives through countless changes of 
 appearance. To a careful student of humor, a 
 story is rarely, if ever, quite new. At the 
 best, it is merely a new dressing for an old 
 point. And since the special form of the 
 tale serves only as the vehicle for its humor, 
 the old story is fully the equal of the new in 
 its amusing quality, and there is more likeli- 
 hood that the ancient garb will appear strange 
 to to-day's audience. I remember one story 
 that pleased me mightily when I was a boy. 
 I found it in the humorous department of a 
 standard magazine, of which there were bound 
 files in the library of my home. The issue of 
 the magazine was under date of the early 
 sixties. I have repeatedly told that story, 
 with unfailing success; it seemed always 
 agreeably new to the audience. But about 
 ten years ago I decided to tell this anecdote 
 no more for a long time. The reason was 
 that in a new number of the same magazine 
 I found the story repeated almost word for 
 word in the humorous department, just as 
 
 C 102 ]
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 half a century earlier. And the magazine still 
 has a large vogue. I knew that this republi- 
 cation would place the story before so many 
 readers as to render it unsatisfactory for my 
 purposes. But by and by I shall use it again. 
 
 Often, too, there is a wholesome simplicity 
 in the primitive narrative that may well cause 
 preference of it over later, more sophisticated 
 versions. For example, at a wedding break- 
 fast I would not care to relate some of the 
 newest anecdotes dealing with the marriage 
 relation. There is a suggestion of decadence 
 in them that might be deemed offensive on 
 such an occasion, and quite properly so 
 deemed. But I would not hesitate to relate 
 the dialogue between the two soldiers on the 
 eve of battle : 
 
 Jack and Jim, as they lay on their blankets 
 looking up at the stars, were moved to 
 solemn thoughts before the dread possibilities 
 of the morrow. At last, after a long silence 
 Jim questioned his comrade. 
 
 "Jack, how did it come about that you 
 decided to go to war.?" 
 
 [103]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 Jack pondered for a little, and then gave a 
 straightforward explanation. 
 
 *'Well, you see, I was always fond of rows 
 and ructions and all kinds of fighting and 
 such, and I wa'n't married, and so I come." 
 Then, after an interval, he propounded the 
 question in his turn: 
 
 "Jim, how's happen you decided to go to 
 war.?" 
 
 Jim swallowed a few times and presently 
 spoke in a level, rather tired voice. 
 
 "Well, Jack, you see as how it was like this. 
 I never did like rows and ruction and fighting 
 and such like, and I was married, and I loved 
 peace and quietness, and I had a wife and 
 eight children, and so I come!" 
 
 Similarly, too, I should have no scruples 
 in relating before the bridal pair an anecdote 
 of Grandpa Doolittle. He was a good man, a 
 substantial farmer and a deacon in the church 
 in the early days of Vermont. But some 
 busy bodies of his own generation had been 
 heard to allege that the poor man was hen- 
 pecked. One evening, a little Hiram Doo- 
 
 C104]
 
 THE APPLICATION OF STORIES 
 
 little, the old man's grandson, broke off the 
 study of his lessons to ask a question. 
 
 "Oh, gran'pa, what great war began in 
 .1812?" 
 
 The old deacon mused for a few moments, 
 then suddenly straightened and answered with 
 unaccustomed vigor: 
 
 "18 1 2 — 1 812? Why, that's the year I 
 married your grandma!" 
 
 And at the same marriage feast, I might 
 venture to tell of the self-assertive husband, 
 who, had been chased from cellar to garret 
 and back to the family bed-room by his very 
 high-spirited wife pljang a broom. The un- 
 fortunate man sought refuge by crawling 
 under the bed. \ As the wife prodded at 
 him with the broom-handle she vociferated 
 shrilly: 
 
 "William Henry Peck, you come out from 
 under that bed." 
 
 But William Henry, while he fended the 
 
 broomstick from his ribs as best he could with 
 
 his hands, announced in muffled, but firm 
 
 accents: 
 
 [105]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 "I won't come out, Mariah ! I will be mas- 
 ter in my own house !" 
 
 It is suggested to the speaker that he should 
 exercise great caution in repeating any par- 
 ticular story. It is advisable for him to make 
 a practise of using an anecdote once, and once 
 only in his public addresses. He may assume 
 that the stories he tells are quoted by those 
 who hear them, that they even find their way 
 into the public press. In short, by his use 
 of them, he places them in the category of 
 new stories, and the warning given above 
 against the employment of these applies 
 henceforth. More than one speaker has at- 
 tained an unenviable notoriety by injudicious 
 repetitions of a favorite story. There is no 
 excuse for such folly, since the supply of 
 material is practically inexhaustible. When- 
 ever repetitions are made they should be 
 separated by long intervals of time, preferably 
 of years. 
 
 Cio6]
 
 Chapter XI 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 IN the old days, it was the custom to drink 
 deeply after dinner in the baronial hall, 
 and the custom of that convivial period 
 established an etiquette that was aped in 
 more modest establishments — an etiquette, 
 indeed, that has in some features survived to 
 our own time. This is especially true in 
 the matter of toasts. The drinking bout was 
 recognized as an occasion for jollity. But 
 there is no gaiety in a bibulousness which is 
 silent. So, minstrels tuned harps and voices 
 for the entertainment of the revelers, and tales 
 were told, and many bumpers drained to the 
 honor of gods and men and gallant deeds. 
 Thus, the practise of offering toasts was 
 developed. The social aspect of the custom 
 gave it the strength through which it became 
 almost universal among civilized men, through 
 
 C 107]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 which it survives to some extent even among 
 those who resist the lure of wine. This 
 anomaly is truly like the play of "Hamlet'* 
 with Hamlet left out, but the sentiment of 
 prohibition, while rejecting liquor, will retain 
 its most graceful feature, the offering of toasts. 
 In giving a toast, the speaker simply names 
 some person or thing as a subject to be 
 honored by the company in a draft of wine. 
 The plainest form for the toast is, of course, 
 the mere naming of the person or thing to 
 receive the tribute of the ceremony. From 
 this point of simplicity, the speaker may 
 extend his remarks in any manner he chooses. 
 He may pay a compliment, either ingenious 
 or sincere or both, to the subject of his toast 
 or he may deliver a considerable eulogy, or 
 he may discuss particularly any phase of the 
 subject that appeals to him. Usually, it is 
 better to reserve actual naming of the subject 
 for the conclusion of the remarks. And to 
 the designation thus at the end, there may be 
 added a sentiment, a phrase briefly summing 
 
 up the virtues of the theme. For example, 
 
 [loS]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 in offering as a toast the word "Home," a 
 favorite sentiment has been, "the father's 
 kingdom, the child's paradise, the mother's 
 world." 
 
 This quotation brings us to a consideration 
 of what is most expedient in the matter of 
 sentiments to be used in the offering of toasts. 
 The toast itself presents no difficulty. It is 
 no more and no less than the naming of any- 
 subject it proposed to honor. But in the 
 matter of the sentiment there is more difficulty, 
 since it should be made distinctive, yet 
 within the restrictions of the best taste. The 
 custom has been in the past to formulate 
 sentiments of a rhetorical sort, ornate, flam- 
 boyant. For all patriotic toasts, the spread- 
 eagle character was in high favor. The effort 
 generally was toward something high-sounding 
 or ostentatiously clever. To-day, our taste 
 is rather for simplicity in both the thought 
 and the form of the sentiment. In this 
 respect, just as with oratory in all its other 
 phases, the tendency is toward directness of 
 
 thought and plainess of expression. So, it is 
 
 C 109]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 advisable for the speaker to meet the mood of 
 the hour by scrupulous avoidance of mere- 
 tricious adornment of artificial. It is far 
 better to make the sentiment the expression 
 of a simple and sincere feeling, expressed in 
 the fewest possible words, and these words of 
 a sort understandable by all. His best method 
 is to carefully think out the particular thought 
 to be emphasized, and then to give it a phras- 
 ing of his own, direct and explicit. He must 
 sedulously resist any temptation toward gran- 
 diloquence in his statement. The sentiment 
 should ring true, if it is to be effective. It is, 
 therefore, necessary that it should be the 
 expression of a real feeling, a sincere tribute. 
 Such sincerity is most convincing in the 
 plainest garb of words. Ornament is likely 
 to obscure its genuine quality. 
 
 The sentiment may often be given to ad- 
 vantage in the form of a quotation. Poems 
 offer the best opportunity for admirable 
 selections. It is for this reason that a com- 
 pilation of quotations in verse is included in 
 
 the present volume. The choice of these 
 
 [no]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 selections has been carefully made with a view 
 to their practical usefulness for a great variety 
 of occasions. Preference has been given to 
 those poets in our language whose work is 
 most generally known and esteemed. There 
 are two causes sufficient to justify such 
 preference for those authors long and widely 
 celebrated to others whose vogue is of the 
 moment and, perhaps usually, merely transi- 
 tory. Such poets as Byron and Burns are 
 universall}' known and esteemed. Hardly 
 an audience anywhere but would have at 
 least some smatterings of knowledge con- 
 cerning their works. The case would be quite 
 otherwise in the average company were the 
 poet quoted to be one who had achieved the 
 latest eccentricity in free verse. Even his 
 or her name would be unknown, and the 
 effusion itself would be utterly unintelligible. 
 It is important to remember that an audience 
 does not relish being confounded by its own 
 ignorance through the tactlessness of a speaker. 
 For this reason, a distinct advantage is se- 
 cured by employing a quotation from an 
 
 [III]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 author who is at least theoretically familiar 
 to the listeners. They complacently accept 
 the verses of Longfellow, whose poetry was 
 memorized by them in the district school, 
 while they might, and probably would, resent 
 the strange cadences of a writer whose name 
 even was wholly strange in their ears. 
 
 The second reason for the preference given 
 to the poets of highest repute is found in the 
 fact that uniformly their mode of expression 
 is gratifyingly direct and lucid. It must be 
 remembered that the speaker recites the 
 quotation to the audience just once. He is 
 not delivering a lecture on the poet; he does 
 not analyze the verses phrase by phrase in 
 order to explain their exact significance. The 
 single repetition of the words is the only op- 
 portunity afforded for the conveyance of the 
 poet's thought. This condition has been 
 carefully considered throughout in determin- 
 ing those quotations best adapted to the 
 speaker's purposes. This involves no denial 
 of the merits possessed by the many poets 
 rejected in the preparation of the list. Theif 
 
 [112]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 virtues, indeed, are many; oftentimes, from 
 the strictly poetical standpoint, far superior 
 to those represented here. Their fault, so 
 far as the speaker's need is concerned, is that 
 they are more difficult to understand. The 
 speaker has to consider the availability of a 
 quotation by the responsiveness to it of his 
 audience. A beauty hidden is no beauty to 
 the observer; the beautiful tliought is a futile 
 thing if it be unintelligible. 
 
 For the greater convenience of the speaker, 
 the list of quotations is presented under 
 topical headings. These headings are arranged 
 topical headings. These headings are ar- 
 ranged in alphabetical order, so that the entire 
 list is self-indexed. The headings themselves 
 constitute a body of toasts suitable for a 
 great variety of occasions, and in each in- 
 stance the particular heading is followed by 
 one or more quotations of poetry suitable for 
 use as a sentiment in connection with the 
 toast. 
 
 The speaker should bear in mind that often 
 it may be preferable to limit the sentiment to 
 
 [113 3
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 a single line, or even phrase, of a stanza, 
 instead of offering the whole quotation. More- 
 over, he need have no hesitation in paraphras- 
 ing any thought of the poet that makes a 
 special appeal to him. Thus, he may find in 
 the list a stimulant to his own fancy that will 
 enable him to formulate the sentiment in his 
 own words. Used in the manner indicated, 
 the list of quotations will, it is hoped, prove 
 very serviceable to the speaker in the task 
 of preparation. 
 
 E114]
 
 Toasts and Sentiments
 
 "Toasts and Sentiments 
 
 AMERICA 
 
 All With Thee 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes are all with thee. 
 Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
 Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 
 Are all with thee, are all with thee. 
 
 - LOWELL 
 
 A Unity 
 
 One flag, one land, one heart, one hand. 
 One nation evermore! 
 
 — HOLMES 
 
 C117]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 Breathes There A Man 
 
 Breathes there a man with soul so dead. 
 Who never to himself hath said, 
 
 This is my own, my native land? 
 Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 
 
 As home his footsteps he hath turned. 
 
 From wandering on a foreign strand? 
 If such there breathe, go, mark him well; 
 For him no minstrel raptures swell; 
 High though his titles, proud his name, 
 Boundless his wealth as wish can claim. 
 Despite those titles, power and pelf. 
 The wretch, concentered all in self. 
 Living, shall forfeit fair renown. 
 And, doubly dying, shall go down 
 To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 
 Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 
 
 — SCOTT 
 
 * 
 
 Country and Flag 
 
 To her we drink, for her we pray, 
 
 Our voices silent never; 
 For her we'll fight, come what may, 
 
 The stars and stripes forever! 
 
 — DECATUR 
 [118]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 My Native Land 
 
 My native land! I turn to you, 
 
 With blessing and with prayer, 
 Where man is brave and woman true, 
 
 And free as mountain air. 
 Long may our flag in triumph wave 
 
 Against the world combined. 
 And friends a welcome — foes a grave, 
 
 Within our borders find. 
 
 — MORRIS 
 
 Our Country 
 
 Our Country, may she always be in the right — • 
 but right or wrong — Our Country. 
 
 — DECATUR 
 
 Where the Heart Is 
 
 Our country is that spot to which our heart Is 
 bound. 
 
 — VOLTAIRE 
 
 CII9]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 BEER 
 
 Into the Can 
 
 Who'd care to be a bee and sip 
 Sweet honey from a flower's lip 
 When he might be a fly and steer 
 Head first into a can of beer? 
 
 - ANON. 
 
 * 
 
 The Remedy of Grief 
 
 Such power hath beer. The heart where Grief 
 
 hath cankered 
 Hath one unfaiHng remedy — the tankard. 
 
 SAXE 
 
 BRANDT 
 
 The Liar 
 
 If wine tells truth, and so have said the wise; 
 It makes me laugh to think how brandy lies. 
 
 — holmes 
 
 [120]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 CONTENTMENT 
 
 Girl and Friend and Pitcher 
 
 The wealthy fool with gold in store 
 
 Will still desire to grow richer, 
 Give me but these, I ask no more — 
 
 My charming girl, my friend, and pitcher. 
 
 My friend so rare., my girl so fair. 
 With such, what mortal can he richer? 
 
 Give me but these, a fig for care. 
 
 With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher. 
 
 From morning sun, I'd never grieve 
 
 To toil a hedger, or a ditcher. 
 If that when I come home at eve, 
 
 I might enjoy my friend and pitcher. 
 
 My friend so rare, my girl so fair. 
 With such, what mortal can he richer? 
 
 Give me hut these, a fig for care. 
 
 With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher. 
 
 [121]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 Tho* Fortune ever shuns my door — 
 I do not know what can bewitch her — 
 
 With all my heart can I be poor, 
 
 With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher. 
 
 My friend so rare, my girl so fair, 
 With such, what mortal can be richer? 
 
 Give me hut these, a fig for care,. 
 
 With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher, 
 
 — ANON. 
 • 
 
 Sambo's Toast 
 
 Little ter-day an' Httle ter-morrer, 
 Out o' meal an' bound ter borrer; 
 Hoe cake an' dab o' dough, 
 Dash her down and say no mo*. 
 Peace at home and pleasure abroad, 
 Please your neighbor an' sarve the Lord. 
 
 God bless you! 
 
 — anon. 
 
 * 
 
 The Little Needs 
 
 A little health, a little wealth, 
 
 A little house and freedom. 
 
 With some few friends for certain ends, 
 
 But little cause to need 'em. 
 
 — anon. 
 
 C122]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 DEATH 
 
 Dead All Over 
 
 While we live, let's live in clover, 
 
 For when we're dead, we're dead all over. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 DINING 
 
 The One Essentla.l 
 
 We may live without poetry, music and art, 
 We may live without conscience and live without 
 
 heart, 
 We may live without friends; we may live without 
 
 books; 
 But civilized men cannot live without cooks. 
 We may live without books, — 
 What is knowledge but grieving. 
 We may live without hope, — what is hope but 
 
 deceiving. 
 We may live without love, — what is passion but 
 
 pining; 
 But where is the man who can live without dining? 
 
 — MEREDITH 
 
 CI23]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 DRINKING 
 
 The Old Convivial Glow 
 
 I FEEL the old convivial glow (unaided) o'er me 
 stealing — 
 
 The warm, champagny, old particular, brandy- 
 punchy feeling. 
 
 A HOLMES 
 
 FRIENDSHIP 
 
 Good Fellows 
 
 A GLASS is good, and a lass is good, 
 And a pipe to smoke in cold weather; 
 
 The world is good and the people are good, 
 And we're all good fellows together. 
 
 — o'keefe 
 
 Here's to Those 
 
 Here's to those I love; 
 
 Here's to those who love me; 
 
 Here's to those who love those I love. 
 
 And here's to those who love those who love me. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 C124]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 Most Prized 
 
 Old books, old wine, old nankin blue — 
 
 All things, in short, to which belong 
 
 The charm, the grace, that time makes strong. 
 
 All these I prize, but {entre nous) 
 
 Old friends are best. 
 
 — DOBSON 
 
 The Four Blessings 
 
 Oh! Be thou blest with that heaven can send, 
 Long health, long youth, long pleasure — and a 
 friend. 
 
 — POPE ' 
 
 The Four Hinges 
 
 Here's to the four hinges of Friendship, 
 Swearing, Lying, Stealing and Drinking. 
 
 When you swear, swear by your country; 
 When you lie, lie for a pretty woman; 
 
 When you steal, steal away from bad company; 
 And when you drink, drink with me. 
 
 — ANON.
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 The Loving Cup 
 
 And let the Loving-Cup go round, 
 
 The cup with blessed memories crowned, 
 
 That flows when e'er we meet — my boys. 
 
 No draught will hold a drop of sin, 
 
 If love is only well stirred in 
 
 To keep it sound and sweet — my boys. 
 
 To keep it sound and sweet. 
 
 — HOLMES 
 
 GIRLS 
 
 Prettiest Last 
 
 You may run the whole gamut of color and shade 
 A pretty girl — however you dress her — 
 
 Is the prettiest thing that ever was made. 
 And the last one is always the prettiest. 
 Bless her! 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 GOODNESS 
 
 One Grand Sweet Song 
 
 Be good, and let who will be clever, 
 Do noble things, not dream them all day long. 
 And thus make life, death and that vast forever 
 One grand sweet song. 
 
 — anon. 
 
 [126]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 HAPPINESS 
 
 A Twin 
 
 All who joy would win 
 
 Must share it: — Happiness was bom a twin. 
 
 BYRON 
 
 HOME 
 
 The World of Love 
 
 A WORLD of strife shut out, and a world of love 
 shut in. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 To Those Who Have Passed 
 
 Oh! here's to other meetings 
 
 And other greetings then, 
 And here's to those we've drunk with, 
 
 But never can again. 
 
 — anon. 
 
 [127]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 KISSES 
 
 And Again! 
 
 Give me kisses! Nay, 'tis true 
 I am just as rich as you; 
 And for every kiss I owe, 
 I can pay you back, you know. 
 
 Kiss me, then 
 
 Every moment and again. 
 
 SAXE 
 
 Neglect 
 
 How should great Jove himself do else than this 
 To win the woman he forgets to kiss. 
 
 PATMORE 
 
 No, Never! 
 
 I ne'er could any lustre see 
 
 In eyes that would not look at me 
 
 I ne'er found nectar on a lip 
 
 But where my own did hope to sip. 
 
 — SHERIDAN 
 [128]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 Propinquity 
 
 Tis sweet to think that where'er we rove, 
 We are sure to find something blissful and dear. 
 And that when we are far from the Hps that we 
 
 love 
 We've but to make love to the lips that are near. 
 
 — MOORE 
 
 Sweeter By Far 
 
 You will find, my dear boy, that the dearly prized 
 kiss, 
 
 Which with rapture you snatched from the half- 
 willing Miss, 
 
 Is sweeter by far than the legalized kisses 
 
 You give the same girl when you've made her 
 a Mrs. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 • 
 
 Sweetest Memorial 
 
 When age chills the blood, when our pleasures 
 
 are past — 
 
 When years fleet away with the wings of the 
 
 dove — 
 
 [129]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 The dearest remembrance will still be the last. 
 Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love. 
 
 — BYRON 
 
 The Remedy 
 
 Never a lip is curved in pain 
 
 That can't be kissed into smiles again. 
 
 — HARTE 
 
 LAUGHTER 
 
 Coffin-Nails 
 
 Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt, 
 And every grin, so merry, draws one out. 
 
 WOLCOTT 
 
 Laugh and be Fat 
 
 Laugh and be fat, sir, your penance is known; 
 They that love mirth let them heartily drink 
 Tis the only receipt to make sorrow sink. 
 
 — JOHNSON 
 
 C130]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 Laugh At All 
 
 Laugh at all things, 
 
 Great and small things, 
 Sick or well, at sea or shore; 
 
 While we're quaffing. 
 
 Let's have laughing, 
 Who the devil cares for more? 
 
 BYRON 
 
 LIQUOR 
 
 Ally of Genius 
 
 Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain, 
 With grammar and nonsense and learning; 
 Good liquor, I stoutly maintain 
 Gives genius a better discerning. 
 
 — GOLDSMITH 
 
 LONG LIFE 
 
 Paradox 
 
 Here's that we may live to eat the hen 
 That scratches on our grave. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 C131]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 LOVE 
 
 Better to Have Loved and Lost 
 
 I HOLD it true, what'er befall, 
 I feel it when I sorrow most; 
 
 'Tis better to have loved and lost, 
 Than never to have loved at all. 
 
 TENNYSON 
 
 If ! 
 
 Here's to those who'd love us 
 
 If we only cared. 
 Here's to those we'd love 
 
 If we only dared. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 • 
 
 His Own 
 
 Here's to the man who loves his wife. 
 
 And loves his wife alone. 
 For many a man loves another man's wife, 
 
 When he ought to be loving his own. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 C 132 ]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 Love Laughs at Law 
 
 O, RANK is good, and gold is fair, 
 And high and low mate ill; 
 
 . But love has never known a law, 
 Beyond its own sweet will. 
 
 — WHITTIER 
 
 Time Wasted 
 
 The cup that is longest untasted 
 ^ -^ May be with our bliss running o'er, 
 And, love when we will, we have wasted 
 An age in not loving before. 
 
 — WILLIS 
 
 To Celt A 
 
 Drink to me only with thine eyes. 
 
 And I will pledge with mine; 
 Or leave a kiss but in the cup, 
 
 And I'll not look for wine. 
 The thirst that from the soul doth rise, 
 
 Doth ask a drink divine; 
 But might I of Jove's nectar sup, 
 
 I would not change from thine. 
 [133 ]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 I sent thee late a rosy wreath, 
 
 Not so much honouring thee, 
 As giving it a hope that there 
 
 It could not withered be. 
 But thou thereon didst only breathe. 
 
 And sent'st it back to me: 
 Since when it grows, and smells, I swear. 
 
 Not of itself, but thee. 
 
 — JOHNSON 
 
 To-day 
 
 Time is short, life is short, 
 
 Life is sweet, love is sweet, use to-day while you 
 
 may; 
 Love is sweet, and to-morrow may fail; 
 Love is sweet, use to-day. 
 
 — CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 
 
 To Each, A Mate 
 
 To every lovely lady bright, 
 I wish a gallant faithful knight; 
 To every faithful lover, too 
 I wish a trusting lady true. 
 
 — SCOTT 
 
 C134]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 To Thee 
 
 Here's a sigh to those who love me, 
 And a smile to those who hate; 
 And whatever sky's above me, 
 Here's a heart for every fate. 
 Were't the last drop in the well, 
 As I gasped upon the brink, 
 Ere my fainting spirit fell, 
 *Tis to thee that I would drink, 
 
 — BYRON 
 
 Unrequited Love 
 
 A MIGHTY pain to love it is, 
 And 'tis a pain that pain to miss; 
 But, of all pains, the greatest pain, 
 Is to love, but love in vain. 
 
 — COWLEY 
 
 * 
 
 When Heaven Opens 
 
 O tender longing! sweet hope! the golden 
 time of first love — the eye sees the heaven open 
 while the heart is silent in blissfulness. 
 
 — SCHILLER 
 
 [135:
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 A Crown of Blessing 
 
 Look down you gods, 
 
 And on this couple drop a blessed crown. 
 
 — SHAKESPEARE 
 
 OLD AGE 
 
 The Good Die Young 
 
 The good die young — Here's hoping that 
 you may live to a ripe old age. 
 
 — anon. 
 
 OLD TIMES 
 
 In Memory 
 
 I DRINK it as the Fates ordain it, 
 
 Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes; 
 
 Fill up the lonely glass, and drain it 
 In memory of dear old times. 
 
 — THACKERAY 
 
 CI36]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 PRESENT 
 
 My Hour 
 
 The past was bad, and the future hid its good or 
 
 ill untried, O; 
 But the present hour was in my power, and so I 
 
 would enjoy it, O. 
 
 BURNS 
 
 PROsPERirr 
 
 For Me, For You 
 
 A CHEERFUL glass, a pretty lass, 
 A friend sincere and true; 
 Blooming health, good store of wealth, 
 Attend on me and you. 
 
 — anon. 
 
 QUAKER TOAST 
 
 Me and Mine, Thee and Thine 
 
 Here's a health to me and mine. 
 Not forgetting thee and thine; 
 
 C137]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 And when thee and thine 
 Come to see me and mine, 
 
 May me and mine make thee and thine 
 As welcome as thee and thine 
 Have ever made me and mine. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 SLEEP 
 
 A Fair Good-Night 
 
 To all, to each, a fair good-night, 
 
 And pleasant dreams and slumbers light! 
 
 — SCOTT 
 
 SOLDIERS 
 
 A Woman's Toast 
 
 The soldiers of America, 
 Their arms our defense. 
 Our anns their recompense — 
 Fall in, men; fall in! 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 C138]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 STJRS AND STRIPES 
 
 Our Flag 
 
 The Lily of France may fade, 
 The Thistle and Shamrock wither, 
 
 The Oak of England may decay. 
 But the Stars shine on forever. 
 
 SUMMER 
 
 To June and Summer Time 
 
 When blue bells ring their merry chime 
 Announcing June and summer time 
 And dancing brooks their carols sing 
 Prophetic of the passing spring 
 We'll pluck a golden buttercup 
 And with the dew we'll fill it up, 
 And drink a health to happy hours — 
 To singing birds; to fragrant flowers. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 [139]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 TEMPERANCE 
 
 A Welcome Back 
 
 A MAN may drink, and no be drunk; 
 
 A man may fight, and no be slain; 
 A man may kiss a bonnie lass. 
 
 And aye be welcome back again. 
 
 BURNS 
 
 Moderation In All Things 
 
 I TAKES my pipe, I takes my pot; 
 
 And drunk I am never seen to be; 
 Fm no teetotaler, or sot, 
 
 And as I am I mean to be. 
 
 — GILBERT 
 
 WATER 
 
 The True Toper 
 
 A FIG then for Burgundy, Claret or Mountain, 
 
 A few scanty glasses must limit your wish; 
 
 But he's the true toper that goes to the fountain, 
 
 The drinker that verily "drinks like a fish!" 
 
 — hood 
 [140]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 WINE 
 
 All In Drink 
 
 We'll have it all in drink; let meat and lodg- 
 ing go; they are transitory and show men merely 
 mortal. 
 
 — BEAUMONT and FLETCHER 
 
 And Another 
 
 Here's to a long life and a merry one, 
 A quick death and a happy one, 
 A good girl and a pretty one, 
 A cold bottle and another one. 
 
 — anon. 
 
 Another Day 
 
 Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter. 
 Sermons and soda-water the day after. 
 
 BYRON 
 
 • 
 
 Bottle and Friend 
 
 Here's to a bottle and an honest friend; 
 What would you wish for more, man.? 
 
 [141]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 Who knows before his Hfe may end 
 What his share may be of care, man. 
 
 — BURNS 
 
 • 
 
 Drink and Be Merry 
 
 Drink, my jolly lads, drink with discerning, 
 Wedlock's a lane where there is no turning; 
 Never was owl more blind than lover; 
 Drink and be merry, lads; half seas over. 
 
 — MULOCK 
 
 Fill High! 
 
 Then fill the cup, fill high! fill high! 
 
 Nor spare the rosy wine, 
 If death be in the cup, we'll die — 
 
 Such death would be divine. 
 
 — LOWELL 
 
 For the Hour-Glass 
 
 Say, why did Time 
 His glass sublime 
 
 Fill up with sands, unsightly. 
 
 [ 142 ]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 When wine he knew 
 Runs brisker through 
 
 And sparkles far more brightly? 
 
 — MOORE 
 
 Had I The Power 
 
 O, LITTLE fishes of the sea, 
 
 Had I the power divine, 
 I'd turn you into silver cups, 
 
 And your sea to purple wine. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 In the Goblet Alone 
 
 Fill the goblet again; for I never before 
 
 Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to 
 
 its core. 
 Let us drink; who would not? since through life's 
 
 varied round 
 In the goblet alone no deception is found. 
 
 — BYRON 
 
 [143]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 No Sting 
 
 Friend of my soul! this goblet sip — 
 
 'Twill chase the pensive tear; 
 *Tis not so sweet as a woman's lip, 
 
 But O! 'tis more sincere. 
 Like her delusive beam, 
 
 'Twill steal away the mind; 
 But unlike affection's dream. 
 
 It leaves no sting behind. 
 
 — MOORE 
 
 * 
 
 Our Sun 
 
 This bottle's the sun of our table. 
 
 His beams are rosy wine; 
 We, planets that are not able 
 
 Without his help to shine. 
 
 — SHERIDAN 
 
 * 
 
 Pegasus 
 
 If with water you fill up your glasses. 
 You'll never write anything wise; 
 
 For wine is the horse of Parnassus, 
 Which hurries a bard to the skies. 
 
 — MOORE 
 
 C144]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 Salvation 
 
 Strong ale was ablution. 
 Small beer persecution, 
 
 A drum was memento mori; 
 But a full-flowing bowl 
 Was the saving his soul, 
 
 And port was celestial glory. 
 
 — BURNS 
 
 The Big-Bellied Bottle 
 
 No churchman am I for to rail and to write; 
 No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight; 
 No sly man of business contriving a snare, 
 For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care. 
 
 — BURNS 
 * 
 
 The Bumper 
 
 Fill the bumper fair! 
 
 Every drop we sprinkle 
 O'er the brow of care 
 
 Smoothes away a wrinkle. 
 Wit's electric flame 
 
 Ne'er so swiftly passes 
 [145 3
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 As when through the frame 
 
 It shoots from brimming glasses. 
 
 — MOORE 
 
 The Captain's Taste 
 
 Did you ever hear of Captain Wattle? 
 He was all for love and a little bottle. 
 
 — dibden 
 
 * 
 
 The Loving Cup 
 
 Thus circling the cup, hand in hand, ere we 
 drink. 
 Let sympathy pledge us, through pleasure, 
 through pain. 
 That, fast as feeling but touches one link. 
 Her magic shall send it direct through the 
 chain. 
 
 MOORE 
 
 • 
 
 The Wife's Query 
 
 Then fill a fair and honest cup, and bear it 
 
 straight to me; 
 The goblet hallows all it holds, what e'er the 
 
 liquid be, 
 
 C146]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 And may the cherubs on its face, protect me 
 
 from the sin 
 That dooms me to those dreadful words, "My 
 
 dear, where have you been?" 
 
 — HOLMES 
 
 * 
 
 To Folly 
 
 Now, down with care and blithely swear 
 
 A truce to melancholy; 
 Let each good soul fill up his bowl 
 
 And drink a toast to folly! 
 
 — POWELL 
 
 * 
 
 To Joy 
 
 Then fill the glass — away with gloom, 
 Our joys shall always last; 
 For hope will brighten days to come. 
 And memory guild the past. 
 
 — MOORE 
 
 * 
 
 To Noah 
 
 So a cup ere we part to the man of our heart. 
 Old Noah, the primitive grower of wine; 
 And one brimming cup (nay, fill it quite up). 
 To the angel who gave him the seed of the vine. 
 
 — SAXE 
 
 C147]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 Twin Aches 
 
 'TwEEN woman and wine a man's lot is to smart. 
 For wine makes his head ache, and woman his 
 heart. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 While Able 
 
 Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm able. 
 Till all my companions sink under the table. 
 
 — GOLDSMITH 
 
 While You May 
 
 Drink to-day and drown all sorrow;' 
 You shall perhaps not do't to-morrow; 
 Best while you have it, use your breath. 
 There is no drinking after death. 
 
 — BEAUMONT and FLETCHER 
 
 :i48]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 WOMAN 
 
 All Together 
 
 Let her be clumsy, or let her be slim, 
 Young or ancient, I care not a feather; 
 
 So fill up a bumper, nay, fill to the brim. 
 Let us toast all the ladies together. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 A Reasonable Woman 
 
 I know the thing that's most uncommon; 
 
 (Envy be silent and attend) 
 I know a reasonable woman. 
 Handsome, and witty, yet a friend. 
 
 — POPE 
 
 * 
 
 A Woman Perfected 
 Earth's noblest thing — a woman perfected. 
 
 — LOWELL 
 
 [149]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 Except 
 
 Here's to woman, the sweetheart, the wife, 
 The delight of our firesides by night and by 
 day. 
 
 Who never does anjrthing wrong in her life, 
 Except when permitted to have her own way. 
 
 — HALLECK 
 
 Excuse for the Glass 
 
 Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen, 
 
 Here's to the widow of fifty. 
 Here's to the flaunting extravagant queen. 
 
 And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. 
 
 Let the toast pass. 
 Drink to the lass, 
 ril warrant she* II -prove an excuse for the glass. 
 
 Heres' to the charmer whose dimples we prize. 
 Here's to the maid who has none, sir. 
 Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, 
 And here's to the nymph with but one, sir. 
 
 Let the toast pass. 
 Drink to the lass, 
 rU warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass, 
 
 [ISO]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow, 
 Now to her that's as brown as a berry. 
 Here's to the wife with a face full of woe. 
 And now to the damsel that's merry. 
 
 Let the toast pass^ 
 Drink to the lass^ 
 ril warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. 
 
 For let 'em be clumsy, or let *em be thin. 
 Young or ancient, I care not a feather. 
 So fill up up your glasses, nay, fill to the brim, 
 And let us e'en toast 'em together. 
 
 Let the toast pass, 
 Drink to the lass, 
 ril warrant she* II prove an excuse for the glass. 
 
 — SHERroAN 
 
 • 
 
 Garland of Love 
 
 Honored be woman ! she beams on the sight, • 
 Graceful and fair, like a being of light, 
 Scatters around her wherever she strays, 
 Roses of bliss on our thorn-covered ways — 
 Roses of paradise fresh from above. 
 To be gathered and twined in a garland of love. 
 
 — HOOD
 
 >» 
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 Her Charms 
 
 She is pretty to walk with, 
 She is pretty to talk with, 
 And pleasant, too, to think on. 
 
 — SUCKLING 
 
 * 
 
 Her Contrariety 
 
 Here's to woman, the source of all our bliss* 
 
 There's a foretaste of heaven in her kiss; 
 
 But from the queen upon her throne, to the maid 
 
 in the dairy. 
 They are all alike, in one respect — "contrary. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 * 
 
 Her Eyes 
 
 Here's to the girl with eyes of blue. 
 
 Whose heart is kind and love is true; 
 Here's to the girl with eyes of brown, 
 
 Whose spirit proud you cannot down; 
 Here's to the girl with eyes of gray. 
 
 Whose sunny smile drives care away; 
 Whate'er the hue of their eyes may be, 
 
 I'll drink to the girls this toast with thee! 
 
 — ANON. 
 C152]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 Her Fickleness 
 
 I'm convinced a woman can 
 
 Love this, or that, or any other man; 
 
 This day she's melting hot. 
 
 To-morrow swears she knows you not; 
 
 If she but a new object find, 
 
 Then straight she's of another mind. 
 
 — SUCKLING 
 
 Her Place 
 
 They talk about a woman's sphere as though it 
 
 had a limit; 
 There's not a place on earth or heaven, 
 There's not a task to mankind given. 
 There's not a blessing or a woe, 
 There's not a whispered yes or no, 
 There's not a life or birth, 
 That has a feather's weight of worth — 
 Without a woman in it. 
 
 — ANON. 
 
 ri53]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 In the Home 
 
 Woman! with that word. 
 
 In the green bower of home. 
 
 Truth, beauty, love, in her adored. 
 And earth's lost paradise restored. 
 
 Life's dearest hopes and memories come; 
 
 — HALLECK 
 
 Look On Her Face 
 
 Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers strike, 
 And like the sun they shine on all alike. 
 Yet graceful ease and sweetness void of pride 
 Might hide her faults if belles had faults to hide. 
 If to her share some female errors fall 
 Look on her,, face and you'll forget them all. 
 
 — POPE 
 
 • 
 
 Naval Toast 
 
 Here's to our sweethearts and our wives; 
 May our sweethearts soon become our wives 
 And our wives ever remain our sweethearts. 
 
 — anon. 
 
 LiS4]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 Pearl of All Things 
 
 O PEARL of all things, woman ! Adored by the 
 
 artist who created thee. 
 
 — schiller 
 
 Place Aux Dames 
 
 And when a lady's in the case 
 
 You know all other things give place. 
 
 — GAY 
 
 * 
 
 Superlative 
 
 O FAIREST of creation! last and best 
 Of all God's works! Creature in whom excelled 
 Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, 
 Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet. 
 
 — MILTON 
 
 • 
 
 The Lasses 
 
 And nature swears, the lovely dears 
 Her noblest work she classes, O; 
 Her 'prentice hand she tried on man, 
 And then she made the lasses, O. 
 
 — BURNS 
 
 CiS5]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 The Modern Woman 
 
 At last 
 
 She rose ufjon a wind of prophecy, 
 
 Dilating on the future. 
 
 — TENNYSON 
 
 The Paragon 
 
 I FILL this cup to one made up 
 
 Of loveliness alone, 
 A woman of her gentle sex 
 
 The seeming paragon; 
 To whom the better elements 
 
 And kindly stars have given 
 A form so fair that, like the air, 
 
 'Tis less of earth than heaven. 
 
 Her health! And would on earth there stood 
 
 Some more of such a frame, 
 That life might be all poetry. 
 
 And weariness a name. 
 
 — pinkney 
 
 C156]
 
 TOASTS AND SENTIMENTS 
 
 The Supreme Faithfulness 
 
 Talk about the devotion of the sex, but the 
 most faithful attachment in Hfe is that of a 
 woman in love — with herself. 
 
 — LYTTON 
 
 Those Eyes 
 
 Those eyes whose light seemed rather given 
 
 To be adored than to adore — 
 Such eyes as may have looked from heaven, 
 
 But ne'er were raised to it before. 
 
 MOORE 
 
 To THE Composite Her 
 
 Now, with wine as is due, let the honors be paid, 
 Whilst I give my hand, heart and head; 
 
 Here's to her, the fond mother, dear partner, kind 
 maid. 
 Who first taught me to love, woo and wed. 
 
 — HOOD 
 
 C157]
 
 AFTER DINNER SPEECHES 
 
 To Thee 
 
 While there's life on the lip, while there's warmth 
 
 in the wine, 
 One deep health Fll pledge, and that health shall 
 
 be thine. 
 
 — MEREDITH 
 
 • 
 
 Whom Each Loves Best 
 
 Drink ye to her that each loves best; 
 
 And if you nurse a flame 
 That's told but to her mutual breast. 
 
 We will not ask her name. 
 
 — CAMPBELL 
 
 CiS8]
 
 FORMS FOR SPEECHES
 
 FORMS FOR SPEECHES 
 
 'ERE are presented numerous 
 forms of speeches, suitable for use 
 on various occasions. Each is 
 complete in itself, and merely re- 
 quires memorizing. These set addresses have 
 been very carefully prepared by one who is 
 accustomed to speech-making, and they will, 
 therefore, be found satisfactory, since they 
 have the proper character for oral delivery, 
 which is something quite different oftentimes 
 from the quality that distinguishes the written 
 discourse. The addresses are distinctly of a 
 sort that may be delivered with the effect of 
 being extemporaneous. 
 
 Care has been used to make the form in 
 every instance of the broadest possible char- 
 acter. Owing to this fact, their usefulness is 
 greatly extended, without close restrictions of 
 
 [i6i]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 time and locality. Indeed, any one of the 
 collection might be available for occasions 
 other than that designated by the heading. 
 Moreover, pains have been taken to avoid 
 repetitions, and by reason of this fact two or 
 more of the forms may be joined to make a 
 single discourse when the occasion demands 
 an oration. The choice of subjects has been 
 made with a view to listing those of chief 
 importance, and it results from this that a 
 great variety of occasions not specifically des- 
 ignated by the titles are, nevertheless, so 
 related to them that the set forms will prove 
 available unfailingly. 
 
 The general nature of the addresses Is some- 
 what serious, since this is fitting to many of 
 the particular occasions included in the list. 
 It will be noted, however, that there are 
 lighter touches when these are justified by the 
 occasion. In addition, it must be borne in 
 mind that these forms put no restraint on the 
 ambitious speaker. They are intended for the 
 convenience of anyone who finds himself 
 under the necessity of delivering an address 
 
 [162]
 
 FORMS FOR SPEECHES 
 
 while unprepared either from inclination or 
 inability. They are purposely made short 
 enough to permit of easy memorizing, while 
 they are still long enough fully to answer the 
 requirements of the occasion. But individual 
 preference and ability may choose to adapt 
 them and to enlarge them. Especially, an 
 ambitious speaker may avail himself of the 
 material here offered, and yet make it really 
 his own by such alterations and additions as 
 shall appeal to him. In this direction, the 
 most important point will be the improve- 
 ment of any particular address by appropriate 
 references to local conditions and matters of 
 timeliness. Thus, in an address on Decora^ 
 tion Day, specific mention of the valor dis- 
 played by the soldiery in that community 
 where the exercises are held. So, too, at a 
 family reunion there should be some enum- , 
 eration of the exploits of members of the 
 clan, and these narratives may be either grave 
 or gay, preferably both. It is well to pay a 
 tribute to the greatness of the famous divine 
 or the bravery of the doughty general^ but it 
 
 [163]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 is also well to cite a mythical relation who 
 beat all his eight wives, or of the real ancestor 
 who was hanged for sheep-stealing. In any- 
 way possible, there should be an effort to deck 
 the bare form with allusions of a familiar 
 kind, calculated to interest and please the 
 hearers, to arouse in them a personal sympa- 
 thy with the speaker's thought. 
 
 In the preceding portion of this volume, 
 ample instruction has been given as to the 
 method for making use of the funny story in 
 a speech. Those directions are all equally 
 applicable in connection with these set forms. 
 For example, at the outset of an address on 
 Lincoln's Birthday, it would be quite suit- 
 able to tell any preferred humorous anecdote, 
 and follow it by the statement that the story 
 has been attributed to Abraham Lincoln. 
 This would be true, in all probability, since 
 the number of good stories credited to that 
 great man is beyond all counting. Of course, 
 in such case, the law of timeliness must be 
 regarded. It would not do thus to quote a 
 tale of flying machines or submarines or radio- 
 
 [164]
 
 FORMS FOR SPEECHES 
 
 telephones. Similarly, essentially any story 
 that is really amusing may be made applicable 
 to the particular occasion by the use of a little 
 ingenuity, following the instructions pre- 
 viously given on the subject. 
 
 Use is to be made at pleasure of any de- 
 sired extracts from the list of toasts and sen- 
 timents, for the purpose of adorning the 
 address on any particular occasion. 
 
 [165]
 
 NEW YEAR'S DAY 
 
 THE New Year! The dates of the 
 calendar are as the milestones for 
 man's journey through life. On a 
 certain day in a certain year, a child 
 was born; the child grows to maturity, lives 
 out its appointed span, and then, on a certain 
 day in a certain year, dies. The vital events 
 are noted according to the calendar. Births, 
 marriages and deaths are recorded in the fam- 
 ily Bible — in the bureau of vital statistics. 
 Life is measured by its years. Every year is 
 a cycle complete in itself, a cycle of months, 
 weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds. New 
 Year's Day is both a beginning and an end. 
 It marks the conclusion of one such cycle, 
 it marks the beginning of another. Thus, 
 the day has a peculiar, a striking signifi- 
 cance for every individual. This anniver- 
 sary compels the deep attention of every 
 
 [166I
 
 NEW YEAR'S DAY 
 
 one of us. It compels us to reflect on 
 the cycle that is ended, and, as well, to 
 consider carefully the new cycle that is open- 
 ing. Naturally, there is review of the past, 
 anticipation of the future. We are blest in- 
 deed if we are able to gain wisdom from a 
 study of our experiences through the days 
 that are gone, and to apply that wisdom in 
 the ruling of our conduct through the days to 
 come. Such wisdom is garnered not only 
 from happiness, but also, and in chief meas- 
 ure, from the bitterest trials of life. Often, 
 indeed, a clear vision looks back over the 
 years, and beholds in the most grievous sor- 
 rows so difficultly endured the means whereby 
 character was purified, whereby the spirit 
 grew and took on strength to achieve. 
 
 Just because the New Year carries with it 
 this impulse to examine the past and to plan 
 the future, it is inevitably a time of keen re- 
 grets as well as of high aspirations. A can- 
 did survey of things done must show even the 
 best among us faults both of commission and 
 of omission. It follows, of course, that in 
 
 [167]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 planning the future, the repetition of such 
 faults is denied a place. Hence, New Year 
 resolutions. 
 
 Now, New Year resolutions are good or 
 bad according to the circumstances. Of 
 course, the particular resolve may be taken 
 for granted as meant to be an improvement 
 in conduct. The quality of good or bad, 
 therefore, so far as we are concerned has to 
 do with the future history of the resolution. It 
 being admitted that the resolution itself is 
 admirable it is a good resolution if it is kept; 
 it is a bad resolution if it is broken. The 
 reason is that lieing is a vicious thing. The 
 breaking of a promise is the worst sort of lie- 
 ing. The breaking of a promise to one's self 
 has a guilt all its own. It means a flabby will. 
 The flabby will is a foe to righteousness. To 
 be sure, many persons of strong will are evil, 
 but we may be sure that no weak and vacillat- 
 ing person can be a saint. The late Professor 
 James, the eminent psychologist, was vehe- 
 ment in denouncing the evil of broken reso- 
 lutions by reason of their destructive effect 
 
 [i68]
 
 NEW YEAR'S DAY 
 
 on the will power. It is better for the char- 
 acter to make no resolutions for the New 
 Year, if any is to be broken. A single reso- 
 lution carefully maintained is excellent: a 
 dozen broken are not only absurd, they are 
 profoundly injurious to the maker and breaker 
 of them. The desire for improvement is a 
 wholesome thing, and its manifestation at the 
 New Year season deserves every encourage- 
 ment. But enthusiasm for reform should be 
 checked by prudence. Before the pledge is 
 made, the cost of fulfillment should be most 
 carefully considered, and there should be an 
 honest estimate of the courage required of the 
 ability to deny habit and desire for the sake 
 of principle. The resolution deliberately 
 formed and conscientiously carried out is of 
 vast value in the building of character. 
 
 At this season, as another year begins, we 
 take comfort from the fact that we are still 
 alive, and we celebrate joyously. The spirit 
 of the occasion is exhibited in family re- 
 unions, in community gatherings, in social 
 gaieties of diverse sorts. The whole nation 
 
 [169]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 honors the opening of the New Year as a 
 national festival. And not our nation alone. 
 Through all history, all races have alike done 
 honor to the date that marked the beginning 
 of their year. Though that date itself has 
 varied v^^idely, the spirit animating different 
 peoples has always been the same. That spirit 
 is the one that now animates us. There is a 
 deeper feeling than that of which I have 
 spoken, which has to do with religion. Stress 
 is laid on this in every church, and it is a fact 
 that all the religions of the world have sanc- 
 tified this season. 
 
 Reference to other calendars remind me that 
 our own is not perfect, We have changed it 
 often enough, but it is still defective. Once 
 in four years, we must add an extra day in 
 February to keep our dates harmonious with 
 those of nature. But that defect gives a sin- 
 gle touch of variety to the otherwise monot- 
 onous repetitions of the calendar year. 
 Incidentally, leap year has the traditional 
 merit of generously offering opportunity to 
 all love-lorn maiden ladies. 
 
 £ 170]
 
 NEW YEAR'S DAY 
 
 My friends, let us aspire, yet fairly within 
 the measure of our powers; let us resolve 
 yet discreetly; above all let us achieve. 
 
 To the New Year, our endeavor, our at- 
 tainment! 
 
 [171]
 
 LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY 
 
 NO holiday could be more worthy 
 than this. It is devoted to the 
 memory of a man who is unique in 
 history. He was one to whom came 
 a most tremendous opportunity for service to 
 his fellows; he was one who proved himself 
 adequate to the mastery of a situation of su- 
 preme trial. 
 
 It is well to reflect with appreciative care 
 on the character of Abraham Lincoln. He 
 was such a product of our American Democ- 
 racy as no other country could duplicate. 
 He typified in his person that possibility of 
 achievement which is our pride. His origin 
 was of the humblest; he enjoyed in his youth 
 no advantages whatsoever, as we understand 
 the term. Poverty would have left him to 
 illiterate obscurity, but for the fact that he 
 possessed a burning desire to go forward, on- 
 
 C172]
 
 LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY 
 
 ward, upward. He had, too, an inexhaustible 
 energy with which to fight for the attainment 
 of his desire. He won education by sheer force 
 of perseverance, a perseverance that was in- 
 domitable. Who of us but has a mental pic- 
 ture of the lanky youth poring over a borrowed 
 book in the night hours, reading by the un- 
 certain light of the fire on the cabin hearth. 
 There is inspiration to every ambitious 
 young man in the life story of Lincoln. It 
 would seem, indeed, that there was nothing in 
 his favor. Surely no one ever had less aid 
 from his environment for the building of a 
 career; no one ever had set before him more 
 and greater obstacles in the race for suprem- 
 acy. Lincoln's one mighty asset was the 
 noble spirit that was within him. It was a 
 spirit keen to strive, indomitable, righteous. 
 It was this spirit that drew other men to him, 
 that made them appreciate and honor both 
 his powder and his love of the right. It was 
 this spirit that compelled the trust of a mul- 
 titude of his fellows, who turned over to him 
 guardianship of our nation. How he dis- 
 
 [173]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 charged his duties through years of bloody 
 stress is a record so simple that it is familiar 
 to every schoolboy, and it is a record so won- 
 derful that all true men do reverence to the 
 name of Abraham Lincoln. His whole life 
 stands in a beauty all its own for devoted 
 service to his country and to his fellow men. 
 His death was the final sacrifice on the altar 
 of patriotism. 
 
 Let us, then, remember this martyred presi- 
 dent with a loving veneration that shall thrill 
 us to deeper appreciation of the blessings that 
 are ours, that shall thrill us also to a keener 
 realization of our duties as fellow citizens of 
 that great man, to more earnest fulfillment. 
 
 [^74]
 
 SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY 
 
 ALL the world loves a lover. Saint 
 Valentine specialized in just that 
 sort of thing. A noble career for 
 a saint, if you ask me. For what 
 is there more interesting than the infinite 
 vagaries of true love? And it is only in be- 
 half of true lovers that the saint bestirs him- 
 self. 
 
 It is, indeed, love that makes the world go 
 round. Love, in the right use of the word, 
 is always true love. Not only does love make 
 the world go round, it makes life worth liv- 
 ing — simply love, nothing else, makes beau- 
 tiful the whole universe. Life is, in fact, a 
 dreary, sordid and fruitless grind without it. 
 Merely to eat and to drink, to be clothed, 
 to toil at the gaining of such necessities are 
 pursuits gross and earthly in themselves that 
 bring the doer to nothingness of themselves. 
 
 [175]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 They become ennobled when love is the mo- 
 tive underlying every activity. Such love 
 may be of home and family, of country, of 
 duty, of one's fellow man, of God. In its 
 noblest expression, it may be all of these. 
 
 The kindly old saint, however, confines his 
 interest to the love affairs of a man and a maid. 
 He is broad enough, let us hope, to make age 
 no barrier. He is tolerant toward the man 
 who is so young that we more experienced 
 ones term his emotion calf-love, or even 
 puppy-love. And the saint is tolerant, also, 
 to the maid whom we brutally term old. We 
 are not so charitable. We are likely to sneer 
 when the choice of lovers does not meet our 
 personal ideas of what is fitting. We refer 
 to May and December when there is differ- 
 ence of years. We are scornful concerning the 
 lover with one foot in the grave, so to speak, 
 and the other slipping. And, too, we are fond 
 of saying: *'Now, what can he see in her?" 
 or: 'What can she see in him?" The old 
 Indian was more philosophical in his appre- 
 ciation of variousness in mankind, for he 
 
 [176]
 
 SAINT VALExNTINE'S DAY 
 
 thanked the Great Spirit that all red men were 
 not as he, since in that case every other brave 
 would have wanted his squaw. It might be 
 well for us to copy after Saint Valentine in 
 gentle tolerance of the foibles of other folks 
 in their fancies. 
 
 Let us give thanks to Saint Valentine. We 
 need him. More power to his arm — to his 
 brain. The lovers need him to smooth the 
 way to marriage. They need him still more to 
 smooth the way after they are married. Of 
 old, romances wrote of a youth and a maiden, 
 but ended the chronicle with the announce- 
 ment: "Thus they were married and lived 
 happy ever afterward." Nowadays, the nov- 
 elists begin with the marriage, and exploit 
 their living unhappy ever afterward up to 
 the divorce court. The modern romance de- 
 lights in seizing on a couple old enough to 
 know better, and making them do worse. 
 
 I doubt not that this very day Saint Valen- 
 tine is growing thin. It must be a strenuous 
 time for him with grandmama bunny-hugging 
 in the cabaret, and silly chits, of flapper age, 
 
 [177]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 but now so powdered and rouged and bobbed, 
 with little time for lessons in their business 
 of vamping Tom, Dick and Harry. Never- 
 theless, though he may grow thin. Saint Val- 
 entine will save the situation, will restore 
 sound sense to his proteges. He will be able 
 to do this because, in spite of all extrava- 
 gances of the moment, the hearts of old and 
 young alike are still sound. They are so sound 
 that they will function normally, which means 
 that lovers will continue to love deeply, to 
 trust completely, to hope absurdly, to marry 
 foolishly, to live wisely — perhaps to die con- 
 tentedly. 
 
 Hail blessed Saint Valentine 1 
 
 [178]
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON'S BIRTH- 
 DAY 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON, the 
 Father of Our Country. The 
 term in itself is one of supreme 
 honor, of love, of reverence. 
 Every parent finds a personal satisfaction in 
 the right achievement attained by his own 
 offspring. In a sense, what is wrought by the 
 children is the performance of the parents. 
 The intimate relation that always exists be- 
 tween parent and child is such that to claim 
 it voluntarily is a final proof of deepest af- 
 fection. It is thus that our nation has borne 
 witness to its love for Washington. It has 
 called him father. That designation is of 
 itself full evidence of the veneration with 
 which the citizens of these United States have 
 always regarded, and do still regard, and will 
 continue to regard, the man to whose saga- 
 cious leadership they chiefly owe their being. 
 
 [179]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 In his "Outline of History," the English 
 writer, Wells, confines comment on Washing- 
 ton to the statement that the man was lazy. 
 Such an assertion smirches the reputation of 
 Wells, not of Washington. Its absurdity is 
 patent to any intelligent person — except Wells. 
 George Washington was the Commander-in- 
 Chief of our army during the Revolutionary 
 War. The task imposed on him in this posi- 
 tion was no light one. On the contrary, his 
 duties imposed on him a burden sufficient to 
 crush body, mind and spirit of any save the 
 strongest. Here was no place for indolence. 
 No lazy man could have marshaled our tat- 
 tered and hungry troops to victory. The re- 
 quirement was for a general against whom 
 physical fatigue was powerless, whose mind 
 was competent to devise a way out of the 
 worst perils, whose spirit remained undaunted 
 in every crisis. And afterward, as our Presi- 
 dent, this man of destiny could still find no op- 
 portunity for that ease of which the English 
 writer has so curious a fancy. In that early 
 period of our history, even as to-day, the 
 
 [i8o]
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY 
 
 presidency ofifered of sinecure. The life of 
 the Chief Executive day by day was of the 
 fullest, with every moment of the waking 
 hours occupied by the necessities of control 
 for that great enterprise, a daring scheme of 
 government new to the history of the world. 
 Then, as now, the life of the President was 
 one of arduous and unceasing toil. Back of 
 all else, there was then, just as there is to-day, 
 the strain of a tremendous responsibility. The 
 head of our Government can never be a lazy 
 man, nor ever could. 
 
 Moreover, apart from the exigencies of the 
 position itself, we must bear in mind the fact 
 that the lazy man can never become the leader. 
 Indolence cannot long disguise itself. The 
 slothful individual is known as such to his 
 fellows. It is inevitable that they should re- 
 ject his guidance in the conduct of afifairs. 
 Even a political boss cannot be a lazy man. 
 Were he such, he could never attain domi- 
 nance over his party. Political control de- 
 mands not only shrewdness, but also energy 
 enough to be always busy. No more can the 
 
 [i8i]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 Statesman indulge a liking for idleness. 
 Statesman and politician alike must be zeal- 
 ous in action if they would attain their ends. 
 It is safe to declare that no lazy man could 
 ever be so much even as nominated for the 
 office of President of the United States. 
 
 As the parent finds pleasure in the great 
 things accomplished by a child, so the spirit 
 of the Father of Our Country must feel both 
 joy and triumph, along with much wonder, 
 over the progress of this nation; he may well 
 find gratification in the development of the 
 nation. Though our faults be many, our 
 greatness cannot be denied. Washington 
 guarded and led what was by comparison a 
 handful of men dwelling in the wilderness. 
 Those whom he set on the way have gone 
 forward through the years resolutely; they 
 have never faltered or turned back. They 
 have fashioned the wilderness into a land of 
 richness beyond any that the world has known. 
 The remote settlements of a new world have 
 grown to be the greatest power among all the 
 nations of the earth. 
 
 [182]
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY 
 
 There are millions in this land to-day where 
 were scant thousands in the time of Washing- 
 ton. But we can never be too many to do him 
 honor. We are fabulously wealthy now where 
 we were poverty-stricken in the time of Wash- 
 ington, but we can never be too rich to remem- 
 ber the beginnings of our prosperity, to 
 remember the man that molded destiny in 
 our behalf. 
 
 George Washington the Father of Our 
 Country. We, his children, are humbly grate- 
 ful to his memory. 
 
 [183]
 
 DECORATION DAY 
 
 THIS is the day on which we assem- 
 ble to bear witness that we remem- 
 ber our dead. Those whom we 
 thus now hold in memory have a 
 claim upon our reverence that is of the 
 strongest. Yet, this claim does not come 
 from any kinship; it is not due to ties of 
 blood ; it is not derived even from friendship ; 
 it is not concerned with personal relationships. 
 The claim issues from the fact that these dead 
 gave the full strength of their manhood, gave 
 their very lives even, for a righteous cause. 
 They fought and died for the salvation of the 
 nation in which we enjoy citizenship. It was 
 their toil and torment and passing that upheld 
 the Government in a time of mortal crisis, so 
 that it has endured through the years, and 
 stands to-day in splendid security. In great 
 measure, if not indeed wholly, we owe these 
 
 ri8+]
 
 DECORATION DAY 
 
 dead heroes both the peacefulness and the 
 power of these United States. 
 
 It is well that the slow flight of the years 
 lessens little by little and finally destroys the 
 bitterness that must characterize partisan 
 strife. To-day, we may declare with grateful 
 pride that the heart of North and South is 
 truly one part. There is no longer any spirit 
 of battle between sections of our country. The 
 old wounds have healed, a kindly Time has 
 almost completely obliterated even the scars 
 of former conflict. With our eyes open to a 
 clearer vision, we of the one nation under- 
 stand the honest valor of all who battled in 
 the Civil War. It is easy now to understand the 
 zeal of the North, so suddenly and so swiftly 
 aroused against the practice of slavery, for 
 slavery was not an institution in the North. 
 There was nothing to offset full appreciation 
 of the injustice wrought against the victims 
 of such servitude. But we can understand 
 equally the feeling of the South, where genera- 
 tions of custom sanctioned the holding of 
 slaves. We remember in justification of the 
 
 r 185 ]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 practice that throughout all the ages of his- 
 tory slavery had been deemed a matter of 
 course, not only by rudest savages, but as 
 well by those peoples of highest culture. The 
 development of a sense of justice in this regard 
 developed only in modern times, and then very 
 slowly. It is characteristic of human nature 
 that those not directly concerned with the in- 
 stitution were in every instance most ardent 
 toward its abolition. In France, the extrava- 
 gancies of the revolutionary spirit that cul- 
 minated in the reign of terror in the closing 
 years of the eighteenth century, included the 
 freeing of the slaves in the French Colonial 
 possessions. Here, we note again, that there 
 was no slavery in France itself to serve as a 
 check on the enthusiasts. Indeed, it is hardly 
 a matter for pride to any lover of human 
 progress, that the change so admirable in 
 itself was, nevertheless, effected by fanatics 
 who enthroned the guillotine, who exalted 
 courtesans for the high altars in the churches, 
 who dragged the Bible through the streets tied 
 to the tail of an ass. The British freed their 
 
 [i86]
 
 DECORATION DAY 
 
 slaves more slowly — happily, more sanely. It 
 seems a pity that we could not have reached 
 the right in this matter peacefully, without 
 the horrors of a bloody war between brothers. 
 Yet, there is a purifying of the spirit that 
 comes forth out of the evils of strife. We must 
 believe that such a baptism of blood is a sac- 
 rament of regeneration for the nation. At 
 least, we know that the individuals who fought 
 and died were surely in some measure thus 
 consecrated. These dead, in memory of whom 
 we are gathered, are sacred to us. They will 
 remain sacred to us so long as the generations 
 honor the supreme virtues of manhood : valor 
 and sacrifice. 
 
 [187]
 
 FOURTH OF JULY 
 
 THE Fourth of July is the anniver- 
 sary that commemorates that day in 
 1776 on which came into being 
 the Declaration of Independence. 
 It has won for itself the distinction of being 
 known as *^the day we celebrate." And 
 fittingly, for the Fourth of July is not only 
 our most joyous, but also our most sacred 
 festival. It is the souvenir of the birth of our 
 nation. It may be said of it jocularly that it 
 is the occasion when we most enthusiastically 
 twist the Lion's tail, and let the Eagle scream. 
 It is the day when we are prone to boast of 
 the triumph that our hardy ancestors won 
 over the veteran troops of an empire, and to 
 vaunt ourselves over the magnificent progress 
 that has marked the change from the thirteen 
 colonies to the greatest of world powers. It 
 is, indeed, but just that we should thus exult 
 over past prowess and present achievement. 
 
 [188]
 
 FOURTH OF JULY 
 
 The nation has accomplished stupendous 
 things in the way of advancement, and we 
 may take credit to those of our race who have 
 here wrought a work so mighty and so endur- 
 ing. 
 
 Yet, the flight of the years has effected a 
 radical change in our sentiment toward the 
 country against the tyranny of which we 
 fought. Every schoolboy to-day knows that 
 the evils imposed on the Colonists were due 
 to the rapacity of the monarch, not to the ill- 
 will of the people, and that the best sentiment 
 of English statesmen was bitterly opposed to 
 the policies of King George toward the 
 colonies of the crown. The English of that 
 age realized, just as they realize now, that the 
 war was a hideous blunder; they understood 
 the injustice of it. 
 
 It was a flaming resentment against injus- 
 tice that set burning the forces of the revo- 
 lution in our Western World. Our fore- 
 fathers were goaded to revolt by the unfair- 
 ness with which they were treated by the 
 Government overseas. Their protest was 
 
 [189]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 against taxation without representation. That 
 protest went from words to deeds, and its final 
 provision is visible in the peace and power of 
 this land to-day. The patriots of 1776 and 
 those bitter years that followed did not take 
 up arms in behalf of any theory: they battled 
 to remedy unjust conditions imposed upon 
 them by a despotic authority. Our warriors 
 were not animated by hatred of the monarch- 
 ical form of government, or by love for a 
 democratic system. They were driven to 
 rebellion by circumstances that menaced their 
 well being unjustly; they dared the combat in 
 behalf of their material rights. The men of 
 that age, whether individuals of the common 
 people, or their leaders, their statesmen, their 
 generals, had no conception of democracy 
 with the meaning given to the word to-day. 
 But they understood fully the difference be- 
 tween right and wrong, and they were willing 
 to shed their blood, to give their lives to de- 
 fend the right that was theirs. 
 
 Our present development of democracy has 
 been from a growth of exceeding slowness. 
 
 [190]
 
 FOURTH OF JULY 
 
 By reason of that slowness, the growth has 
 been sure. Moreover, the tedious delay in 
 advancement has made every gain infinitely 
 precious; it has given the people opportunity 
 to realize the exact advantage of every gain, 
 and thus to appreciate with deepest grateful- 
 ness each succeeding benefit. We of the 
 Anglo-Saxon race have been studying for a 
 thousand years the problems of a liberal gov- 
 ernment and of individual rights. They have 
 studied, and, too, they have struggled. There 
 were wars in the British Isles, as well as the 
 final war waged on this continent, and every 
 battle was in some measure the march of a 
 forward movement. 
 
 The slowness of the process has given to 
 us a development of character that tends to- 
 ward making us worthy of the blessings that 
 have been bestowed upon us. The priceless 
 gain from all its struggles has been the growth 
 of character. We of the race have striven for 
 our liberties through many generations of 
 struggle, and we have earned them. Because 
 we have thus fought and thus difficultly ob- 
 
 [191]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 tained, we understand our liberties. We do 
 not merely perceive the superficial things that 
 are represented by the law, or by the machin- 
 ery of government, but we know the truth 
 that lies beneath the surface, and is, in fact, 
 the foundation on which our whole social 
 structure is reared. We not only know this 
 truth as a matter of intelligent perception, 
 but we feel it — crystallized as a dominant 
 sentiment from inherited experience. 
 
 No other race of to-day has an inheritance 
 so splendid. Within recent years, the island 
 kingdom of the Japanese was opened to civil- 
 ization. That race, with amazing adapt- 
 ability, has taken to itself many of the strange 
 things thus offered, but the effect is wholly 
 superficial, if not altogether flimsy, at best 
 merely material. The Japanese, however 
 imitative they may be, have never lived 
 through the ages of struggle to attain; their 
 generations have not received the baptism of 
 blood, liberty's sacrament. They may lay 
 hold on the outward form; they cannot pos- 
 sess the inward and spiritual grace. 
 
 [192]
 
 FOURTH OF JULY 
 
 It is this inward and spiritual grace that is 
 our glory. On this the day we celebrate, it is 
 well to exult in the noble achievements of our 
 race, of which this day is a triumphant symbol. 
 But it is better still to feel within us a quicken- 
 ing of the spirit — that spirit which burned 
 so hotly within the bosoms of our patriot 
 fathers. It is a spirit that must flame always 
 to consume injustice, to destroy the dross that 
 would hide or tarnish the right. It is the 
 spirit that makes mighty for righteousness, 
 that makes strong to battle not only for the 
 rights of one's self, but with equal zeal for 
 the rights of his fellows. 
 
 The spirit of 1776. May it live ever in us, 
 and in the generations that are to follow. 
 
 [ 193]
 
 LABOR DAY 
 
 LABOR DAY is new on the calendar 
 of annual festivals. Yet, though the 
 organization of the workers into 
 unions is of recent occurrence, the 
 principle thus expressed has in certain phases 
 been a factor throughout all the history 
 of the world. Men everywhere and always 
 have recognized the truth that in union there 
 is strength. Essentially, every class has 
 made constant effort to avail itself of those 
 advantages afforded by the association of its 
 members for purposes either defensive or 
 offensive. Thus, to give an illustration from 
 the top of the social structure, ruling sover- 
 eigns have been wont to form alliances with 
 other potentates for the sake of increased safety 
 or power. Similarly, the ruling class of a 
 nation was joined in a nobility that carried 
 special privileges, and the whole class was 
 
 [ 194 1
 
 LABOR DAY 
 
 zealous against any infringement on their 
 superior rank. Lower in the social scale were 
 the guilds, which were actually groups of 
 particular merchants or artisans. Even the 
 apprentices were leagued together for the 
 common good. The farmers, even, have not 
 disdained such joining of their forces for mu- 
 tual aid, and the granges have possessed a 
 large measure of influence in the past; they 
 remain of a definite importance in the present. 
 Such banding together has by no means been 
 limited to our Anglo-Saxon race: it has been 
 a feature in the social constitution of all coun- 
 tries, in all times. It has, perhaps, its most 
 striking manifestation in the caste system of 
 India. The Hindoo mixes the social status 
 with religion. The whole population was 
 classified in forgotten ages, so long ago that 
 the sacred legions tell of how each separate 
 class issued from a particular part of the God 
 Bramah. That caste system has remained 
 fixed through the centuries. Each native 
 Hindoo is born into a caste from which he 
 cannot escape, be he priest, or warrior, or 
 
 [195]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 Street-sweeper. The rules of his caste are 
 absolute, to depart in any least degree from 
 the rigid forms is mortal sin. The caste sys- 
 tem of India represents all that is worst in 
 the separation of a people into classes. It is 
 an absolute bar to any high ambition among 
 those of the inferior orders, since ascent to a 
 nobler place in the social scale is not merely 
 forbidden, it is wholly impossible. By con- 
 trast, then, we realize the enormous advan- 
 tages offered by a democracy to every indi- 
 vidual. Here, the man born in the gutter may 
 rise to the presidency of the nation, if the spirit 
 of achievement within him be of sufficient 
 power. There is no bar of the secular law 
 or of religion. Labor in modern times has 
 attained to intelligent understanding of its 
 rights, of its dignity and of its power. It has 
 won triumph in the vindication of its rights. 
 It has proved its dignity. It has asserted its 
 power. It is certain that labor will never 
 revert to serfdom. The strength of labor has 
 grown so great that there is no longer need to 
 fear oppression. Indeed, it would seem that 
 
 [196]
 
 LABOR DAY 
 
 to-day the chief requirement is toward that 
 sort of union which shall develop understand- 
 ing and tolerance and sympathy between the 
 various classes of the community. We have 
 advanced so far in the development of our 
 civilization that we ought to advance yet a 
 little farther. Such progress would mean a 
 near approach to absolute justice in the rela- 
 tions of every class of our citizens with all 
 other classes. The ideal is in truth absolute 
 fairness, a perfect justice for every individual. 
 The realization of that ideal means the abol- 
 ishing of every special privilege, means even 
 the actual elimination of classes as arbitrarily 
 imposed by present conditions. 
 
 It is the duty of the labor unions to exalt 
 before the world the honor that inheres in hon- 
 est toil. God never cursed labor. On the 
 contrary. He blessed it in the beginning and 
 sanctified it for all time. His own revelation 
 declares that he worked in the infinite toil of 
 creation, and found the work good. He set 
 man in the garden, but with the task of caring 
 for it. Christ, in the later revelation, repeats 
 
 [ 197 ]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 the declaration that the Father is ever work- 
 ing, and adds that He Himself, also, works. 
 Man, made in the likeness of God, imitates the 
 creator in his toil. And all work is creative. 
 The sweeping of a room or the washing of 
 dishes is truly creative work, for it brings or- 
 der out of disorder, just as God fashioned the 
 universe out of chaos. There is, indeed, a 
 religious quality in all faithful service, in all 
 honest industry. The old monks sang a hymn 
 with the refrain, ''Laborare est orare" — to 
 labor is to pray. In spiritual worth, the hum- 
 blest worker may be mighty. It will be well 
 for us to keep in our hearts a thought of such 
 spiritual values, since, at the last, these things 
 only avail. The material passes, but the 
 things of the spirit avail. 
 
 [198]
 
 COLUMBUS DAY 
 
 THE discoverer of our country did 
 not give it his name, but his fame 
 is none the less secure. The learned 
 may tell us of some ancient Scan- 
 dinavian navigator w^ho came to these shores 
 before the sailing of the ships sent forth by 
 Ferdinand and Isabella, but w^e are not in the 
 least interested. We honor Christopher 
 Columbus as the man w^ho made the continent 
 know^n to the world, who by his discovery 
 opened it to the European adventurers, with 
 the result that it became a new world, a world 
 of amazing vastness and more amazing fruit- 
 fulness. Nor do we venerate the name of 
 Columbus less from the fact that he was 
 actually mistaken in his high project, and that 
 accident, rather than design, made his voyag- 
 ing a supreme achievement. 
 
 We may well honor the man, since to him 
 
 [ 199]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 directly and personally we owe the magnifi- 
 cent treasure that is this country of ours. It is 
 useless to declare that some other in the course 
 of time must have done the work, had Colum- 
 bus failed. The fact remains that Columbus 
 was the discoverer. To him, then, all our 
 gratitude and praise, our reverence as the 
 agent under Providence for our well-being. 
 
 It is, indeed, most astonishing to reflect on 
 how the vast American continent remained a 
 wilderness through all the ages of history. 
 The races of men grew civilized in the old 
 world, they exploited the arts and sciences, 
 they developed agriculture and all natural re- 
 sources, and believed with utmost sincerity 
 that all the earth was theirs, and the fullness 
 thereof. Yet, only a few thousand miles away 
 from them across the ocean, there waited that 
 other world, in which lay hidden all the riches 
 of their own lands, and more. It was a virgin 
 soil, endowed with incalculable treasures. 
 Those dwelling there were only a few scat- 
 tered savages. We know that in forgotten 
 
 [200]
 
 COLUMBUS DAY 
 
 ages a higher culture existed in certain re- 
 gions, for there remain to our own day the 
 massive ruins that are mute witness to the skill 
 of those that builded them. But of that van- 
 ished race we know nothing, though we may 
 guess that through them survived on this con- 
 tinent some part of the civilization claimed 
 for the lost Atlantis. So far as we are con- 
 cerned, however, the redmen were the only 
 occupants, and they but few, of this enormous 
 region. And these aboriginals left the land 
 virgin, with all its wealth intact for the com- 
 ing of the pioneers. What that wealth was is 
 visibly suggested to us as we look about us at 
 the splendor of our nation. Our knowledge of 
 it grows if we look farther, to the wide and 
 fertile reaches of Canada, to cities, mountains, 
 valleys and plains of the tremendous areas we 
 group under the names Central and South 
 America. 
 
 Honor, then, to Christopher Columbus, 
 agent of destiny to bestow on mankind the 
 glories of a new world. 
 
 [201 ]
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY 
 
 THIS day had its beginning among a 
 pious people, who, in a strange 
 new world, amid the perils of a 
 wilderness and menaced by sav- 
 ages, obtained the necessities of life by stern- 
 est toil, yet, in devout worship of God, felt 
 the obligation upon them to set apart a 
 certain season for fasting and prayer and 
 thanksgiving to a Providence so merciful. 
 We of to-day, who dwell so much more softly 
 amid the plenty rendered by a fruitful earth, 
 could hardly endure such rigors as were im- 
 posed by the circumstances of time and place 
 upon the Pilgrim Fathers. Such trials as 
 those they underwent w^ould sorely tax our 
 faith, might even lead us into bitter repining 
 against the divine discipline, rather than to a 
 humble gratitude. 
 
 The Pilgrims were sustained through every 
 
 [ 202 J
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY 
 
 trouble by a profound religious fervor. It 
 was for peace of conscience that they made 
 themselves exiles from their native land. 
 They sought a place, no matter hov^ difficult 
 and dangerous, where they might exercise 
 their right to worship according to their con- 
 viction. It was natural, then, that such men 
 and women should mark the rounding of the 
 year with special service of praise to the Deity 
 who had preserved them. They made this 
 season one for earnest communion v^ith God, 
 a time for spiritual exaltation. So, they mor- 
 tified the flesh, and strict fasting left a larger 
 liberty for the soul's exercise. 
 
 We have traveled far from the conception 
 in which this anniversary had its beginning. 
 For us of the present generation, it is, to a 
 large extent, just a holiday, a time for pleas- 
 ure, in games or other sports, or in social re- 
 unions and assemblies, and for feasting. The 
 official proclamations of the day still empha- 
 size its sacred character. The churches still 
 maintain special services where the religious- 
 minded may meet together with something of 
 
 [203]
 
 / 
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 the old-time sentiment of praise for the good- 
 ness of God. But it must be confessed that 
 most of our citizenry gives small heed to-day 
 to holy things, but is rather concerned with 
 merry-making, each according to his individ- 
 ual bent. The day is esteemed as one of jol- 
 lity. None dreams of fasting. Instead, the 
 time is one notoriously for feasting. 
 
 There is, in fact, no harm in our rejoic- 
 ing. On the contrary, it is well that we should 
 be glad in the midst of a plenty that in these 
 later days is the marvel and the envy of a 
 stricken world. It is, indeed, seemly to re- 
 joice in the realization of our manifold 
 blessings. Nor is it unfitting, as the pilgrims 
 themselves soon came to realize, to spread our 
 tables with that generous profusion made 
 possible by a kindly Providence. But, along 
 with these our modern methods in which we 
 indulge so easily and so zealously, it would be 
 well for our souls' sake to remember the exact 
 significance of this day to those from whom 
 we have derived it. It would be well for us, 
 like them, to make the time one for a closer 
 
 [204]
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY 
 
 communion with the divine source of our well- 
 being. It would be well for us to emulate the 
 Pilgrim Fathers in their humility of Thanks- 
 giving, in their realization that their every 
 achievement was made possible and sanctified 
 by the blessing of God. We may believe the 
 God of the Pilgrims more kindly and more 
 tolerant than they deemed Him. But He is 
 still our God, and it is for us a most solemn 
 duty in the midst of our prosperity to remem- 
 ber always and especially on this day, that He 
 is the source of abundance, and that His bless- 
 ing gives us the strength to harvest His bounty. 
 Let us hold in our consciousness the name of 
 this holiday, and make of it, truly and rever- 
 ently, a day of thanksgiving. 
 
 [205]
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 IT is tiie strength and the glory of our 
 Christian religion that it centers about a 
 personal Saviour. The personality of 
 Christ is the magnet that draws sinners 
 to repentance and knowledge ?f salvation. 
 There is a marvelous power of appeal in rfie 
 fact that Christ, in spite of His divine nature, 
 was in very truth a man like unto us. It is 
 for this reason that we turn to him in full con- 
 fidence, knowing that He understands our 
 every mood, that he sympathizes with our 
 every feeling, ready always to ofier the com- 
 fort of an infinite tenderness. 
 
 It is because of this personal quality in the 
 Redeemer that our religion makes so great 
 a festival of the birth of Jesus. The Babe in 
 the manger exercises a holy spell over the 
 meditations of the devout, and this spell suf- 
 fers no lessening with the lapse of the years — 
 for its strength is drawn from the personal
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 relation of each of us with this Divine Being 
 made flesh for the redemption of the world. 
 There is, too. in this celebration something of 
 the simplicit}' and joj'ousness that belongs to 
 childhood. It is thus that we cultivate es- 
 pecially the spirit of good will that is sym- 
 bolized by the giving of gifts, and especially 
 we distinguish the festival by making it the 
 day of days for the children. It is now that 
 we seek to fill full their cup of gladness, and, 
 in so doing, we join with them so earnestly 
 as to renew in some measure our own youth- 
 fulness. There sounds ven* distinctly in our 
 hearts to-day the words of Christ: "Suffer 
 the little ones to come unto me, for of such is 
 the kingdom of heaven.'"' 
 
 We of our religion are wonderfully blessed. 
 Our faith has a warmth in the relation be- 
 tween God and man that the other great reli- 
 gions have lacked. Every false faith has owed 
 its power to a truth. But a truth becomes es- 
 sentially error when it is overemphasized; it 
 becomes distorted, in eft'ect untruth. And to 
 a large extent pagan beliefs have suffered 
 
 [207]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 from a mingling of the grossly material with 
 the spiritual. Thus, the Moslem faith, which 
 had its power in the cry that God is one God, 
 nevertheless offers as reward to the devout 
 Mussulman a paradise with harems in which 
 waited bevies of houris of supreme loveliness. 
 In truth, the lures of passion have trailed 
 through most of the world's religions in the 
 past, and they remain potent still. Buddha 
 escaped this taint in his teaching, because it 
 was his ambition to preach a gospel of hope 
 to those that had been hopeless. He proffered 
 comfort in the assurance that every soul could 
 at the last attain to Nirvana — to annihilation, 
 to nothingness. 
 
 How different are the purity and the hap- 
 piness to be found in our Christian faith. It 
 is significant that the greatest and noblest men 
 and women known to history have been loyal 
 followers of the Nazarene. It is significant, 
 as well that the greatest minds before our era 
 approximated closely to the teaching of Jesus. 
 Our religion suffices every need. It is so sim- 
 ple that the most lowly is able easily to lay 
 
 [208]
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 hold on its salvation. It is so profound, so 
 complete, that it answers every demand of the 
 highest intelligence, of the most eager heart. 
 It is not for us now to concern ourselves with 
 doctrine. Indeed, we may safely leave doc- 
 trine at all times to the schools. The vital 
 truth is that Christianity is a life. By com- 
 parison, doctrines count for little. The 
 essential is that one should follow the Christ, 
 that he should, even though afar, live to the 
 best of his ability the life of Christ. And, 
 in so doing there is no inconsistency to-day 
 when we become glad, like unto the little ones. 
 To young and old, to each and every one, 
 a merry, a merry Christmas. 
 
 [209]
 
 ENGAGEMENT 
 
 ALL the world loves a lover. 
 Since this is true, it follows that 
 everyone is doubly fond of two 
 lovers. And justly so, when they 
 have plighted their troth, and behold in all 
 the universe only a background for their own 
 exquisite happiness. We others, who are 
 more prosaic, share in their gladness. Per- 
 haps we are a little touched with envy toward 
 these lovers to whom a drab world has become 
 as heaven. 
 
 Yet, not quite as heaven. For in heaven 
 there is neither marrying nor giving in mar- 
 riage. That, doubtless, is why, as Poe sings, 
 the angels in heaven went envying his love 
 for his Annabel Lee. Poor things, to witness 
 such joy that can never be for them. 
 
 We sometimes smile a little over the rap- 
 tures of lovers, and think of them as living in 
 
 [210]
 
 ENGAGEMENT 
 
 a realm of dream. But theirs is, after all, 
 the supreme reality. For love is life, accord- 
 ing to the divine ordering of things. In His 
 last revelation of Himself, God has declared 
 that He is love, and God is all in all ; in Him 
 vv^e live and move and have our being. So, 
 then, there can be no true life outside of love. 
 
 And again, God has told us that it is not 
 good for man to live alone. Here, there is 
 no conflict between religion and science, be- 
 tween rich and poor, between foolish and wise, 
 between nature and civilization. All unite to 
 recognize this necessity of the mating of youth 
 and maiden; all unite to recognize that only 
 in such mating is to be found the fullness of 
 life. 
 
 May that Providence which is itself the 
 Spirit of Love bless these lovers. 
 
 [211]
 
 RESPONSE OF FIANCE 
 
 WE had both thought that our 
 happiness was complete. But 
 now we realize that it needed 
 to make it perfect just what 
 you have given to us — your sympathy with 
 our joy, your good wishes for our future, your 
 kindly affection at this time toward us. For 
 myself, I cannot claim to deserve what I have 
 won. It is my hope that a generous Provi- 
 dence will help me, will strengthen me to 
 make the life happiness of her who has so 
 honored me. 
 
 And, again, our most grateful thanks and 
 appreciation of your goodness to us. 
 
 [212]
 
 WEDDING 
 
 |HERE are three great crises in life. 
 The first is birth, the last is death; 
 between the two — in many cases a 
 number of times between the two — 
 comes marriage. In the matter of birth, no 
 one has any choice at all; in the matter 
 of death, it is rarely that one is permitted 
 to consult his own preference, unless he 
 chooses suicide. But in the matter of mar- 
 riage it is the general belief that the high con- 
 tracting parties have liberty of choice. If this 
 is not always so, it usually seems so, which 
 does quite as well. The important truth is 
 that marriage, with its freedom of selection 
 to the individual, is a tremendous responsibil- 
 ity, and, it must be accepted as one's own. 
 Right choice is vital to a life of happiness. 
 Here, to-day, we may believe that the two 
 principals have chosen wisely, and that hap- 
 
 [213]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 piness in the wedded state will be their por- 
 tion. 
 
 The humorous are fond of domestic difficul- 
 ties, which offer an endless supply of amusing 
 situations. That is to say, the trouble between 
 husband and wife is often of a sort to make 
 onlookers laugh, though it is deadly serious to 
 the unhappily married pair. The fun- 
 maker's point of view is well illustrated by 
 the shortest joke on record, when Punch used 
 as headline: 
 
 "Advice to Those About to be Married." 
 
 And under this the single word : 
 
 "Don't." 
 
 There is no end to this sort of jesting, which 
 is entertaining enough to everyone not directly 
 concerned. A constant victim of the para- 
 graphers is the mother-in-law, as in the quip : 
 
 "What is the penalty for bigamy?" 
 
 And the reply: 
 
 "Two mothers-in-law." 
 
 In a serious consideration of marriage, we 
 are confronted with the inevitable fact that 
 marriage means disillusionment. Lovers look 
 
 [214]
 
 WEDDING 
 
 on the world through rose-colored spectacles, 
 which they by no means take off when they 
 look at each other. It might be remarked in 
 passing that Cupid himself sometimes wears 
 blinders. But after marriage, the rose fades 
 out of the spectacles, or they are laid aside 
 altogether. The lovers then look on each other 
 with new and clearer vision. Blessed are those 
 that behold charms hitherto unsuspected, a 
 loveliness deeper and more enduring than that 
 seen under love's glamour. 
 
 It is true that disillusionment may be a 
 melancholy thing. But it should be, and 
 oftenest is, a progression from fancy to fact 
 in which comes a realization of worth-while 
 qualities that make possible life in its fullness. 
 There are various types of the married pair. 
 There is the couple in which one is tyrant, 
 the other slave. Such may be miserable or 
 very happy. The law's theory until recent 
 times was that the man rules as a despot, that 
 the wife was merely a chattel. But human 
 nature is various, and many a woman, long 
 before there was any word of her equal rights, 
 
 [215]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 ruled her husband, whether by the violence 
 of the shrew, or by the subtle wiles of the 
 clinging vine. But the ideal marriage has de- 
 veloped a true equality of rights between man 
 and wife, in which the balance is not ob- 
 tained by demand and contention, rather by 
 tolerance, by some sacrifice of self, by appre- 
 ciation of the rights of another, by a profound 
 mutual sympathy and by that community of 
 interests which is a powerful bond. When 
 the surgeon at a hospital in the East End of 
 London had finished dressing the cuts and 
 bruises on the head of a woman patient, he 
 asked sympathetically: 
 
 "Who treated you so shockingly? Was it 
 your husband?" 
 
 "Lor' love yer, no, sir. W'y, sir, my 
 'usband, 'e's more like a friend nor a 'usband." 
 
 In the humor of that answer lies a truth of 
 vast value. Lovers need not cease to be lovers, 
 but they must grow to be friends. They need 
 to become pals, in the best meaning of the 
 word. Their union must become so wonder- 
 ful and so complete that it shall include every 
 
 [ 216 ]
 
 WEDDING 
 
 varied feature of their lives. It is thus that 
 early ardor broadens and deepens into a love 
 that permeates the whole life of both man and 
 wife, and makes of their twain lives a unity. 
 
 [217]
 
 WEDDING 
 
 (Bride's Father) 
 
 ONE of the highest of human pleas- 
 ures is that of a parent in a child. 
 And by so much as this relation- 
 ship is capable of giving joy, 
 so, too, it is sometimes the cause of suffering, 
 and it is always a responsibility that must not 
 be evaded. The delight of parents in a child 
 is, in the natural order of things, tempered 
 by the fact that as the child passes from adoles- 
 cence to maturity, separation from the par- 
 ents becomes necessitated by the circumstances 
 of life. The son goes out from the parental 
 roof tree to mingle vs^ith his fellows and to 
 compete with them in business afifairs. The 
 old home knows him no more except as a 
 visitor. In the new manner to which the pres- 
 ent generation is rapidly becoming accus- 
 
 [218]
 
 WEDDING 
 
 tomed, the daughter, as well, may choose to 
 pursue her Individual career in trade or in 
 the arts or in a profession. But, usually, the 
 girl yields to her natural destiny as a woman 
 by yielding to the pleas of a suitor, by enter- 
 ing into the marriage state. It is this com- 
 plete change in her life and status that so pro- 
 foundly affects the parents. The new sphere 
 of activity in which she moves is so full and 
 so complete that it must surely engage her 
 attention and her energies almost entirely to 
 the exclusion of former interests. The par- 
 ents, while they accept as resignedly as they 
 may the new order, nevertheless cannot re- 
 strain themselves from sorrow over their loss. 
 They seek compensation in satisfaction over 
 her choice of a mate, in appreciation of the 
 sterling qualities that belong to their daugh- 
 ter's husband. They feel that her future under 
 his care shows every prospect for a success- 
 ful, a contented and a happy life. Their pain 
 over their loss at this moment is mitigated in 
 some degree by their gain of a son thus given 
 to them. And, throughout all the days to 
 
 [219]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 come, these two newly united shall have with 
 them the love and tenderness of another 
 wedded pair — the mother and the father of 
 this girl, their beloved daughter. 
 
 [220]
 
 WEDDING 
 
 (Groom) 
 
 1HAVE already made one speech to-day. 
 So has Mrs. , though she wasn't the 
 Missus then. We think those speeches 
 of ours were better than the grandest 
 orations in the Senate of the United States. 
 Anyhow they mean more to us — along with 
 what the minister said right afterward. 
 Everyone knows that no man is worthy of a 
 good woman. I know that I do not deserve 
 the best of women, though I've won her. I 
 can only try my best to make her happy, so 
 that she shall never regret her choice. We 
 know that we have your wishes for our happi- 
 ness, and we are grateful to you. 
 
 [221 ]
 
 WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 
 
 (Husband) 
 
 GETTING married is a big thing, 
 though it is so easy. Staying mar- 
 ried is a bigger thing, and it is not 
 so easy. Staying married happily 
 is the biggest thing of all, and it is the hard- 
 est. But it is the thing that makes everything 
 else in life comparatively easy. Love is a 
 splendid thing in itself, and it is essential to 
 any happiness in the married state. Yet love 
 is often blind, and this fact is not a bit altered 
 in the case of marriage. But, for happiness in 
 wedlock, love cannot stay blind. Marrie(f 
 lovers must have their eyes very wide open, 
 indeed, and see all the actualities of their con- 
 dition with unblinking clearness of vision. 
 Now, this means that they must see the truth 
 not only as to each other, but also as to them- 
 selves. For matrimony imposes adjustments 
 
 [ 222 ]
 
 WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 
 
 in the way of living. Each of the pair must 
 accommodate himself or herself for the sake 
 of an harmonious union. It is necessary, if 
 trouble is to be avoided, that personal self- 
 sacrifice should be imposed by the one whose 
 individual preference is thus given up. It 
 should be voluntary. When it is compelled 
 by the other's criticism or command or tear- 
 ful prayers the result is surely trouble. When 
 there is love, along with the spirit of tolerance 
 and sympathy, happiness in marriage is sure. 
 Under such conditions, disagreements within 
 reasonable bonds do but give spice to the fam- 
 ily fare. But bitter recrimination makes the 
 m^nu just one plateful of mustard. 
 
 My wife and I are to-day as happy as we 
 were on our wedding day — happier in a 
 sense. For, if we lack here and now the ad- 
 venturous thrill of rapture that belongs to 
 lovers newly wed, we have in place of it a 
 substantial joy in the knowledge that we have 
 tested our affection, and have found it true and 
 abiding. We have gathered from the expe- 
 rience of our years together both peace and 
 
 [223 ]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 pleasure beyond anything of our early dream- 
 ing, and we know that our content in the past 
 is, as well, assurance for the future. 
 
 Not least among the good things with which 
 Providence has blessed us are the friends, so 
 many of whom have assembled in a spirit of 
 kindliness on this occasion. Our hearts go out 
 to them in grateful recognition of all that their 
 affection and companionship have meant to us 
 in the past, and for all they may still mean in 
 the days to come. 
 
 [224]
 
 WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 
 
 (Guest) 
 
 ONE of the disadvantages of our 
 present age is that we know too 
 much. Not of what is good for us, 
 but what is bad for us. The 
 newspapers are splendid things, but they cer- 
 tainly are wonderful scavengers. Trouble is 
 news, and they're after it all the time, and 
 they surely get it. They print it under start- 
 ling headlines, and we read it. One kind of 
 trouble in which they most delight is the do- 
 mestic. Anything of the sort that leads to the 
 divorce court is beloved space-filling stuff for 
 the papers. And we read it all. Naturally, 
 the amount of that kind of thing which we read 
 molds our opinion, makes us cynical, pessi- 
 mistic. Then, too, there are the humorous, to 
 whom every married pair is Mr. and Mrs. 
 Nag, or Wrangle, or Jarr. We acquire a 
 
 [225]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 habit of thinking of any married couple as 
 hypocritical deceivers or cantankerous scrap- 
 pers, or the like. It is, then, with something 
 of astonishment that we consider an example 
 such as this pair whom we are met together to 
 honor. For, they in their persons and in their 
 life of union present an example of just those 
 things that have no news value for the news- 
 papers, and so are never exploited in the col- 
 umns of the press. They are such things, too, 
 as make no appeal to the professional humorist 
 as material for his jokes. Yet, these things 
 are the things worth while, and when we con- 
 sider them, we recognize their worth, we es- 
 teem them as precious. This married couple 
 presents in the community a wholesome exam- 
 ple. They are very human and very lovable, 
 and we have all been drawn to them by per- 
 sonal qualities that have commanded both 
 respect and liking. But, beyond such individ- 
 ual characteristics, there exists another power 
 of appeal to our admiration in the fact that 
 their union displays the ideal of marriage real- 
 ized. Their home life is not merely decent 
 
 [2261
 
 WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 
 
 and respectable, not merely virtuous even. It 
 is all these, but it is also something vastly more 
 important, something nobler and finer. It is a 
 home life that is warmed and made beautiful 
 by love and tenderness. It is a home life il- 
 luminated by a radiance of spirit that shines 
 forth to brighten all life round about. The 
 life of these tw^o, and its v^orth, is not to them 
 alone. It is an agent for good in the com- 
 munity. It touches each of us, and inspires 
 us to higher aspiration, to a new confidence 
 in ourselves and in our fellows. 
 
 [227]
 
 PRESENTATION OF A TROPHY 
 
 IT is my agreeable task to act in behalf of 
 my fellows as spokesman in the presenta- 
 tion of this trophy to him who has won it 
 by his unusual skill in the game. The 
 trophy itself is a beautiful thing, but it has a 
 beauty deeper than that which appeals to the 
 eye alone. It is, indeed, a symbol; it is an 
 outward, material sign of an inward grace. 
 It is actually a proof as to our recognition of 
 the sportsmanlike qualities of its recipient. 
 It bears witness not only to dexterity in the 
 playing of a game, but also to the character 
 of its winner as a man who plays the game 
 fairly, according to the best traditions of the 
 pastime. 
 
 In the association of individuals for sport, 
 their mettle is well tried. The intimacy of 
 the relation is such as to test character with 
 peculiar exactness. Because of the interest 
 aroused by such contests of skill, the emotions 
 
 [228]
 
 PRESENTATION OF A TROPHY 
 
 of the players are stirred to great activity. 
 Each contestant wishes to win, he desires suc- 
 cess, and strives for it eagerly. He is likely to 
 be dismayed by his errors, to be exultant over 
 his skillful plays. A victory thrills him with 
 pleasure, a defeat fills him with dejection. 
 But the sporting spirit compels him to restrain 
 his natural feeling, whether of joy or of cha- 
 grin, so that he shall not in conquering be- 
 come a braggart, or in defeat a grouch. It 
 is this sporting spirit that gives to games 
 rightly played their value among men, not 
 merely as a means of recreation, but as a most 
 valuable training of the character. The quali- 
 ties that render a player popular among his 
 fellow players, are just those qualities calcu- 
 lated to make him popular among his asso- 
 ciates in the world at large. Moreover, the 
 qualities that enable him to achieve a triumph 
 in the combat of skill in the game are exactly 
 those qualities which are likely to secure his 
 success in the larger struggle of professional 
 or business affairs. 
 
 So, in presenting this trophy, we offer to its 
 
 [229]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 winner not alone a material evidence of his 
 prowess, in the sport, but also a proof of his 
 sterling excellence, and, further, a witness of 
 the friendly regard and admiration borne to- 
 ward him by his fellows. 
 
 [230]
 
 ACCEPTANCE OF A TROPHY 
 
 IT is with deep pleasure that I receive this 
 trophy. I need not deny that in the pleas- 
 ure there is more than a little pride. 
 Learned men tell us that there is always 
 pleasure in the exercise of faculty. It is for 
 that reason that skill in any pursuit gives its 
 owner a special and constant satisfaction. 
 This is true either for work or for play, and it 
 is equally true whether the particular task be 
 of the highest or of the humblest. The car- 
 penter who can handle a tool deftly has an 
 agreeable pride in his accomplishment that 
 tends to make labor pleasant. The woman 
 who can make a bed perfectly finds a distinct 
 sense of well-being in the exercise of her art. 
 There is no difference in the degree, between 
 carpenter or housewife and the genius who 
 creates an epic or the statesman who molds the 
 
 [231]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 destiny of a nation. In sport, this exercise of 
 faculty is the source of a pleasure that con- 
 tinues without any weariness in repetition. 
 Bad playing causes chagrin, but it is the spur 
 to that persistent effort which brings improve- 
 ment and at last the keen joy of accom- 
 plishment. 
 
 For my own part, I have earned some meas- 
 ure of success by hard work, but I humbly 
 accept good fortune as a big factor in the final 
 victory. And my best fortune, after all, is that 
 I may regard this trophy not so much as the 
 memorial of my success in the game, but rather 
 as a tribute to the sporting spirit of my fel- 
 lows, of which I am the happy recipient. 
 
 [232]
 
 ADDRESS OF WELCOME 
 
 (To a Personage) 
 
 IT is our pleasure on this occasion to re- 
 ceive among us a personage of special dis- 
 tinction. His presence with us is indeed 
 an honor that we keenly appreciate. It 
 is possible, even probable, that oftentimes a 
 person who does much and amounts to much 
 in the world feels that honest and unselfish 
 endeavor is little appreciated. It is for this 
 reason that I wish now to emphasize the fact 
 that the work accomplished by our guest is 
 not only known to us, but is, too, honored by 
 us. It has been of such a character as to tax 
 the strength of both body and mind, and the 
 strength as well of the spirit. In that triple 
 strength has lain the secret of his success — 
 that success which we so greatly esteem, for 
 which we and countless of our fellows are 
 grateful. 
 
 [233]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 The success to which our guest has attained 
 was in no wise due to luck, though we may 
 believe that Providence has given him power. 
 It has been a success founded on the solid rock 
 of integrity, and built up with painstaking 
 care out of the products of a brilliant brain 
 and a generous heart. That sort of success 
 is of worth to the world. In the balance of 
 spiritual things, it is true that as one gives, so 
 he receives. This man has given greatly out 
 of his abundance, and so, too, he has received 
 in corresponding measure. Thus it is that as 
 he has worked so mightily and has accom- 
 plished so splendidly, he has developed a per- 
 sonality in which we realize true greatness. 
 
 We offer him with fitting humility our wel- 
 come, in the hope that its sincerity may give 
 him pleasure. 
 
 [234]
 
 RESPONSE 
 
 HUMILITY is for me, rather than 
 for those who welcomed me with 
 a kindness that touches me deeply. 
 It is pleasant, indeed, for one to 
 feel that he is appreciated. But, to one who 
 searches his own soul, sincere praise is some- 
 thing to render him humble, even while it 
 stirs his pride. For, as one comes to see 
 clearly, he must realize ever more fully how 
 far short he falls in the accomplishment of 
 his ideals. It is thus that the honors paid him, 
 while they flatter, force him to recognize how 
 little they are deserved. But they are none 
 the less a help. They are an incentive always 
 to new and better endeavor. The words that 
 have just been spoken as representative of the 
 spirit of this assembly toward me shall remain 
 as something very dear in memory. And not 
 
 [235]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 only as something dear, but also as something 
 with a vital quality of its own to increase my 
 strength for new and better labors. 
 
 [236]
 
 WELCOME 
 (To One Returning) 
 
 WE of this community feel a par- 
 ticular pleasure in welcoming 
 among us our guest here, who 
 is, in fact, one of us by birth 
 and by the years lived with us. He went out 
 from among us to engage in his activities in a 
 broader field of endeavor. He comes to visit 
 us for old time's sake, to renew past friend- 
 ships, to refresh himself both physically and 
 in the spirit with the breath of his native air. 
 Whatever changes he may find here are 
 chiefly of a superficial sort. The sentiment 
 and the life of our neighborhood remain es- 
 sentially unchanged, even though we pride 
 ourselves on a progressive spirit which shows 
 clearly and proudly in many aspects. Un- 
 changed, indeed, is our feeling of respect and 
 
 [ 237 ]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 friendship toward this guest whom we still 
 count as one of ourselves. 
 
 It is true that when he departed from us 
 he nevertheless took with him the spirit of the 
 community. There is, in fact, in every com- 
 munity its own distinctive life, its individual 
 manner of thought and feeling. One reared 
 within such an atmosphere is inevitably in- 
 fluenced by it. He is, in very definite ways, 
 molded by his environment. Thus, always, 
 there are traits of character that mark the gen- 
 erality of residence in any region. So, of our 
 guest: We may believe that he has carried 
 with him out into the world something in his 
 manhood that has the quality of our life. We 
 dare to claim to our credit some part in the 
 success achieved by him in an honorable 
 career. Though separated from us, he has 
 remained in some measure a part of us, so 
 that we feel a degree of gratification and pride 
 in his achievement. 
 
 Beyond this communal appreciation of our 
 guest, we feel toward him a deeper and nobler 
 emotion, one that is surely personal — endur- 
 
 [238]
 
 WELCOME 
 
 ing friendship. It is this feeling of friendly 
 affection that I now voice in behalf of this 
 community toward him whom we are here 
 met to honor. 
 
 [239]
 
 RESPONSE 
 
 THIS welcome from you means much 
 to me. Ambition may send one 
 from home to seek his fortune 
 among strangers, but affection is 
 always tugging at his heartstrings to bring 
 him back again. Somehow, the old things 
 and the old friends have a power that rests 
 unweakened through all the years. In the 
 press of affairs, it may be thrust back out 
 of consciousness, its urge may be resisted, but 
 always it remains a living force, so that, when 
 the opportunity comes, it surely drives one to 
 return. Here, as I find myself again with you 
 amid scenes so familiar and so dear, I expe- 
 rience a joy and a peace that are new and very 
 precious. There is, of course, sadness — over 
 the passing on of loved ones, yet this feeling 
 does but emphasize and refine the sentiments 
 
 [240]
 
 RESPONSE 
 
 so keenly felt. To me, this return is truly a 
 coming home. The place itself seems won- 
 derfully friendly to me, and the people seem 
 more wonderfully friendly still. I am grate- 
 ful to Providence that has at last brought me 
 home again. I am grateful as well to kindly 
 friends and neighbors who make me realize 
 the blessed fact that this is truly home. 
 
 [241]
 
 FAMILY REUNION 
 
 FAMILY pride is one of the common- 
 est of human failings; it is one of the 
 commonest of human virtues. Some- 
 times, as in the case of the Chinese, 
 the worship of the ancestors is made a religion. 
 Over against this there is the instance of a 
 great general who rose from peasant stock, 
 who, when twitted on his humble origin by 
 some sprig of nobility boasting a long line of 
 titled ancestors, declared grimly: 
 "I myself am the ancestor." 
 Family pride is a vice when the pride is 
 in vicious things. There have been families 
 that boasted of a frightful temper; others 
 that bragged of being spendthrifts; and so 
 on. Examples are not far to seek in any com- 
 munity. Often, heredity has little if anything 
 to do with the curse of drinking or gambling 
 
 [242]
 
 FAMILY REUNION 
 
 or loose living of any sort. Instead, the evil 
 is more likely to be the product of example 
 along with the powerful suggestions from 
 family tradition. 
 
 Family pride is a virtue when it inspires 
 virtue. When one knows that he is born of 
 good stock, he has the right to a feeling of 
 self-respect due to just that single fact. He 
 may properly congratulate himself on having 
 as forebears men and women of a wholesome 
 sort, possessed of both intelligence, industry 
 and integrity. Whatever may be the disputes 
 of the learned as to the extent of the influence 
 of heredity on the human mind and character, 
 we know for a certainty that qualities are 
 definitely transmitted in families, that ability 
 and merit run with the blood just as surely as 
 do form and features for the body. And here, 
 again, just as in the case of the vices, the vir- 
 tues of a family are nourished and strength- 
 ened and made effective by constant sugges- 
 tion from the family tradition. The family 
 pride in its worth becomes itself a spur to 
 emulation, an incentive to equal, even to sur- 
 
 [243]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 pass, in his own person, the virtues of those 
 from whom he has derived his being. 
 
 Nevertheless, at this point, it is needful for 
 us to note that family pride becomes a peril 
 to the individual character when it induces 
 self-complacency without any stimulus toward 
 personal activity. Such pride becomes a curse 
 to one who esteems himself great or worthy 
 merely because his ancestors were great or 
 worthy. Such a person is a parasite for whose 
 existence there is no excuse. Family pride, 
 if it is to be tolerated, must be an energizing 
 force, by which one is compelled to achieve 
 according to the utmost of his powers. He 
 must vindicate by his own worth his right to 
 pride in a worthy ancestor. Otherwise, their 
 worthiness must become his shame. 
 
 For ourselves, we have reason doubly to re- 
 joice. Our family in the past has accom- 
 plished much to make it respected and distin- 
 guished among men, and those of this genera- 
 tion have not been found wanting. On the 
 contrary, our men and women of to-day in 
 their various fields of activity are demonstrat- 
 
 [244]
 
 FAMILY REUNION 
 
 ing anew those sterling qualities of our race 
 that have made it honorable in the past. 
 
 All honor to our tribe! And may we and 
 those to follow us be worthy! May our deeds 
 and lives add to its renown! 
 
 Hail to the name of ! 
 
 [245]
 
 COMMEXCEMEXT 
 
 THERE is always a profound inter- 
 est that attaches to this occasion. 
 Commencement day, whether of 
 school or college, is a milepost 
 Aat marks a definite stage of the journey 
 through life. It indicates the conclusion of a 
 certain cycle in the individual existence and 
 the beginning of another cycle. It denotes 
 the ending of a course of preparation and the 
 readiness for undertaking new activities. It 
 is especially a time for triumphant anticipa- 
 tions. Study and training are by no means 
 always pleasant They are sometimes tedious 
 and toilsome. But as a whole, the years of • 
 
 making ready are pleasant and the pleasure 
 that belongs to them is made keen by the spirit 
 of youth. That the period of learning is for 
 die most part agreeable is fortunate indeed, 
 
 [246]
 
 COMMENCEMENT 
 
 since it is absolutely necessary to the well- 
 being of the individual. The learning thus 
 acquired is of exceeding value. We of to-day, 
 with our familiarity, as to matters of educa- 
 tion, are likely to fail somewhat in appreciat- 
 ing how great this boon is. In past ages, 
 learning was limited to the very few, and even 
 then was meager and inaccurate almost be- 
 yond our power of conception. Moreover, 
 learning is by no means broadcast throughout 
 the world to-day. Only comparatively a small 
 number of the nations give universal school- 
 ing to their citizens. I speak of these things 
 in the hope of arousing in you a real gratitude 
 toward that Providence which has set you in 
 a time and place of so great privileges. Some- 
 times, doubtless, you have felt rebellious 
 against the monotony of routine tasks. But 
 such feeling was the mood of a moment, a fit- 
 ting annoyance. Over against it you have the 
 proud consciousness of an educated intelli- 
 gence. You have benefited by a blessing that 
 is the very crown of our civilization. It is for 
 you to prove your aopreciation of that bless- 
 
 [247]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 ing by the use you shall make of it in the days 
 to come. It is my hope for each of you that 
 in the living of your lives you may justify and 
 realize the happy anticipations that make glad 
 this hour. 
 
 [248]
 
 BIRTHDAY 
 
 OUR forefathers had a pleasant cus- 
 tom of laying down a special bin 
 of wine when an heir was born, so 
 that the time-mellowed beverage 
 should be ready for the drinking of his health 
 on his coming of age. While still an infant, 
 he might be nominated for membership in a 
 club where the waiting list was long, in order 
 that he might be sure of its privileges on at- 
 taining his majority. In the case of royalty 
 the queens giving birth to a son as heir to the 
 throne has always been an occasion for a 
 nation-wide festival. What with Volstead, 
 the unpopularity of royalty and our own sta- 
 tion in life, the first birthday fails to stir the 
 country as a whole to rejoicing. Nevertheless 
 though without embellishments, a birthday of 
 itself is the most important thing that can hap- 
 pen to anyone. So far as our limited knowl- 
 
 [249]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 edge goes it is the beginning of life, and life 
 is the greatest of possessions, that possession 
 on which all else is conditioned. 
 
 As it is the chief boon, so life is also the 
 chief mystery. None, not even the wisest, 
 knows aught of its ultimate sorts. Haeckel 
 declared that the secret of life must forever 
 elude the searching of science. We may learn 
 much of physics and of chemistry and of the 
 constitution of matter, but we cannot penetrate 
 beyond the veil. Nor need we. It is enough 
 for us that this treasure is bestowed upon us, 
 that to us is given the use of it for the develop- 
 ment of ourselves, for the growth of charac- 
 ter. Along with the mysterious gift, there 
 comes to us as well a companion mystery, the 
 conscience, which, from its high place within 
 the soul, seeks to guide toward righteousness 
 the life of each of us. 
 
 As one comes to maturity, the anniversary 
 of birth is likely to prove a day for self-reck- 
 oning. As one year of life ends, and another 
 begins, it is natural to review the immediate 
 past, perhaps, too, the years more remote, to 
 
 [250]
 
 BIRTHDAY 
 
 Study them in an effort to understand wherein 
 the life has been right, wherein it has been 
 wrong, and, along with this, to resolve for the 
 future toward betterment. 
 
 It is not necessary that life should be all 
 happiness. On the contrary, it seems sure that 
 man must struggle in order to grow strong, 
 and this is true not merely as to the physical 
 life, but in even greater measure as to the mind 
 and the spirit. The poet has rightly said, 
 "Sweet are the uses of adversity." Nobility 
 of character is born of suffering. The test of 
 greatness is its strength to overcome the evil 
 of circumstances. It is just here that we 
 should be glad that destiny has given us a re- 
 ligion of hope. We are not promised final 
 annihilation, as are the Buddhists, whose con- 
 ditions of life were so hard that to be done 
 with living seemed the supreme blessing. We 
 are born to a land and an age that offers us full- 
 ness of life here, and to a religion that prom- 
 ises us something infinitely better for the life 
 to come. 
 
 Mrs. Eddy is on record in disapprobation of 
 
 [251]
 
 SPEECHES 
 
 all anniversaries. She condemns them as en- 
 couraging the idea that there is a reality to 
 material things. I am inclined to be more 
 lenient. But the anniversary, more especially 
 the birthday, should never be a time for 
 mourning over w^hat is past and done. In- 
 stead, it should be made a new starting place 
 for the keenest appreciation of life, for the 
 winning of the best that life has to give, and 
 for a clearer consciousness as to just what life 
 means, both in this world and the world to 
 come. None of us is responsible for his first 
 birthday. But each of us is responsible for 
 the use he makes of the gift thus bestowed 
 upon him. 
 
 [252]
 
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