“I don’t believe he can lift nine hundred pounds.”

And another added,—­

“Nor I,—­any more than that he can shoulder a barrel of flour.”

“Or raise his body by the little finger of one hand,” said another.

Whereupon a venerable citizen, a gentleman long known and respected as the very soul of honor, truthfulness, and uprightness, came forward on the stage before the audience, and with emphatic earnestness, and in a loud, intrepid tone of voice, exclaimed,—­

“Ladies and gentlemen,—­The heat of the room was too much for the lecturer; but he can easily do all the feats announced in the bills. I’ve seen him do them twenty times.”

The dear, but infatuated old gentleman!  He had never seen me do anything of the kind.  He hardly knew me by sight.  He thought only of coming to the rescue of an unfortunate lecturer, prostrated on the very threshold of his career; and a friendly hallucination made him for the moment really believe what he said.  His unpremeditated assertion must have been set down by the recording angel on the same page with Uncle Toby’s oath, and then obliterated in the same manner.

Ten days after the above-mentioned catastrophe, having engaged the largest hall in Boston, (the Music Hall,) I delivered my lecture—­in the words of the newspapers—­“with eclat.”  The illustrations of strength which I exhibited on the occasion, though far inferior to subsequent efforts, were looked on as most extraordinary.  The weight I lifted before the audience, with my hands alone, was nine hundred and twenty-nine pounds.  This was testified to by the City Sealer of Weights and Measures, Mr. Moulton.  My success induced me to repeat my lecture in other places.  Invitations and liberal offers poured in upon me from all directions; and during the ensuing seasons, I lectured in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, Albany, and many of the principal cities throughout the Northern States and the Canadas.

To return to my lifting experiments.  I had promised my father to “stop at a thousand pounds.”  In the autumn of 1859 I had reached ten hundred and thirty-two pounds.  An incident now occurred that induced me to reconsider my promise and get absolution from it.  One day, while engaged in lifting, I had a visit from two powerful-looking men who asked permission to try my weight.  One of them was five feet ten inches in height, and a hundred and ninety-two pounds in weight.  The other was fully six feet in his stockings, and two hundred and twelve pounds in weight,—­a fearful superiority in the eyes of a man, under five feet seven and weighing less than a hundred and fifty pounds.  The smaller of these men failed to lift eight of my iron disks, which, with the connections, amounted to eight hundred and twenty-seven pounds.  The larger individual fairly lifted them at the second or third trial, but declined to attempt an increase.  They left me, and I soon, afterward heard that they were practising with a view of “outlifting Dr. Windship.”