Many inquire of me about the lyceum platform as a profession.  My answer is:  “like the famed shield it has two sides.”  One who has a lovely home and rarely leaves it said to me:  “I envy you your life-work.  You get to see the country, visit the great cities, meet the best people and get fat fees for your lectures.”  How distance does lend enchantment to the view sometimes!

A few years ago we notified the bureaus not to make engagements away from the railroads in the northwest during the blizzard months.  A letter came saying:  “Enter Wessington College, outside of Woonsocket.”  We supposed outside meant adjacent.  Arriving at Woonsocket in a blizzard I found Wessington seventeen miles away.  Wrapped in robes I made the drive, arriving about six o’clock in the evening.  On arrival I was informed that smallpox had broken out in the village.  The hotel had been quarantined but a room had been engaged for me in a private home.  While taking my supper my hostess said:  “Would you know smallpox if you were to see the symptoms?”

“Know what?  Why do you ask that?” I asked.

She called attention to the face of her daughter who was serving the supper.  One glance and my appetite fled, as I said:  “Excuse me, please.  I must get ready for my lecture,” and I left the room.  One hour later I stood before a vaccinated audience with visions of smallpox floating before me, and for days after I imagined I could feel it coming.

Add to this experience midnight rides on freight trains, long drives in rain, mud and storm, ten minutes for lunch at sandwich counter, eight months of the year away from home—­the only heaven one who loves his family has on earth, and you have a taste of the side my neighbor did not see.

There is, however, a bright side.  Whoever can get the ear of the public from the platform, has an opportunity to sow seed, the fruit of which will be gathered by angels when he has gone to his reward.  One so long on the platform as I have been, cannot fail in having experiences that gladden the heart, if he has done faithful service.

Out of hundreds I select one experience that should encourage all who labor in the Master’s vineyard.  I had traveled two hundred miles in a day to reach an engagement, and the last seven miles in a buggy over a miserable road.  I did not reach the village until nine o’clock.  Without supper and chilled by the ride, I threw off my wraps and wearily made my way through the lecture.  A little later in my room at the hotel, while I was taking a lunch of bread and milk, a minister entered and said:  “You seem to be very tired.”  When I answered, “Never more so,” he replied:  “I have a story to tell you which will perhaps rest you.”