Captain Smith of the Titanic was held responsible by public opinion for the sinking of the great ship and was harshly criticised by the press.  His forty years of faithful, careful service on the sea was erased by the one mistake.  It was a tremendous one, but let it be said to his credit that experts had declared that a ship with fifteen air-tight compartments could not sink, that if cut into halves both ends would ride the sea.  The bulk-head was made to withstand any contact, and Captain Smith never dreamt of danger from icebergs.  But when he saw his idol shattered, he did all a brave seaman could do to save human lives.  When the last life-boat was launched he came upon a little child who was lost from its parents.  He seized a life-belt, buckled it about his waist and taking the child in his arms, jumped into the icy ocean.  Holding the child above the water with one hand, he used the other as an oar, and reaching a boat he placed the little one in the arms of a woman.  Then returning to his sinking ship, he threw off the life-belt and went down to his death.  Who knows but in the great reckoning day, his reward will be “inasmuch as ye did it unto that little one on the sea, ye did it unto me.”

The great Joseph Cook had a reputation that caused many to look upon him as one who was all brains and no heart.  Before meeting Mr. Cook I was very much prejudiced against him because of what I had heard.  I lectured for a teachers’ institute at New Wilmington, Pennsylvania, when the great preacher was to follow me the next evening.  As I was leaving the county superintendent said to me:  “When you reach the main line Joseph Cook will get off the train which you are to take.  I wish you would speak to him and give him the name of the hotel where I have reserved a room for him.”  When I reached the junction, and the great savage looking lecturer stepped from the train, I said to myself:  “You can go to any hotel you please, I’ll tell you nothing.”

Some months later I lectured in Cooper Union Hall in New York City.  Just about time to begin the lecture Joseph Cook entered the door and took a seat just inside.  When I had talked about ten minutes, he arose and passed out.  I thought he was not pleased and the incident did not lessen my unfavorable estimate of the great thinker.

Some three years later Mr. Cook was on our chautauqua program at Lexington, Kentucky.  Doctor W.L.  Davidson, superintendent of the assembly, requested me to call at the hotel and inform our distinguished visitor of his hour and see to his reaching the chautauqua grounds.  With reluctance I went to the hotel and sent my card to his room.  He ordered me to be shown up to the room at once.  Approaching the door I found it open and Mr. Cook stood facing me.  My impression is that politeness was sacrificed in my haste to explain that I was sent to inform him as to the hour of his lecture and to offer to call for him in time to escort him to the grounds.