and distinguished men:  every one of these walked on to the platform and took his seat in the most simple and unaffected way, as if quite unconscious of the many eyes that were looking at them with interest and curiosity.  There were many highly respectable and sensible men, whom nobody cared particularly to see, and who took their places in a perfectly natural manner, as though well aware of the fact.  But there were one or two small men, struggling for notoriety; and I declare it was pitiful to behold their entrance.  I remarked one, in particular, who evidently thought that the eyes of the whole meeting were fixed upon himself, and that, as he walked in, everybody was turning to his neighbor, and saying with agitation, “See, that’s Snooks!” His whole gait and deportment testified that he felt that two or three thousand eyes were burning him up:  you saw it in the way he walked to his place, in the way he sat down, in the way he then looked about him.  If anyone had tried to get up three cheers for Snooks, Snooks would not have known that he was being made a fool of.  He would have accepted the incense of fame as justly his due.  There once was a man who entered the Edinburgh theatre at the same instant with Sir Walter Scott.  The audience cheered lustily; and while Sir Walter modestly took his seat, as though unaware that those cheers were to welcome the Great Magician, the other man advanced with dignity to the front of the box, and bowed in acknowledgment of the popular applause.  This of course was but a little outburst of the great tide of vain self-estimation which the man had cherished within his breast for years.  Let it be said here, that an affected unconsciousness of the presence of a multitude of people is as offensive an exhibition of self-consciousness as any that is possible.  Entire naturalness, and a just sense of a man’s personal insignificance, will produce the right deportment.  It is very irritating to see some clergymen walk into church to begin the service.  They come in, with eyes affectedly cast down, and go to their place without ever looking up, and rise and begin without one glance at the congregation.  To stare about them, as some clergymen do, in a free and easy manner, befits not the solemnity of the place and the worship; but the other is the worse thing.  In a few cases it proceeds from modesty; in the majority from intolerable self-conceit.  The man who keeps his eyes downcast in that affected manner fancies that everybody is looking at him; there is an insufferable self-consciousness about him; and he is much more keenly aware of the presence of other people than the man who does what is natural, and looks at the people to whom he is speaking.  It is not natural nor rational to speak to one human being with your eyes fixed on the ground; and neither is it natural or rational to speak to a thousand.  And I think that the preacher who feels in his heart that he is neither wiser nor better than his fellow-sinners to