A Lecturer's Experience

Leeturers must have somo funny experiences aud adventures in their annual peregrinations. Holland once threatened to write a book on the subject, and Curtis, after his Tuesday mght leoture, was " reminded of a little story," as he, with several ïrojans, par touk ot the hospitality oí a friend after " Politioal Infidelity" had ended. At a town in Western New York, which Mr. C. reached one afternoon this wiuter, the ofïïeers oí the literary institutiou waited on him to hope that he would not talk on any political subject, as thoro were two partios in the town, aud feeling rather high. Mr Curtis remarked that be had in his carpet bag a leoture ou " Thackeray," which he would give. " Thackeray ? Thackeray ?" said bis interlocutor, " Who is Thackeray ?" Mr. Curtís explained that he Was an eminent novelist, now deceased - a writer of books. " O, that fellow ! Well, we'll hear about him then." The lecture carne off - it was in the Court House - the audience was slim, the enthusiasni slimmer. The President, ufter a long pause, said in a sepulchral tono, ' Are you ready ■?" " Yes, sir, when you are." " Well then, begin." And so, without any iutroduction, Mr Curtis spoke of Vanify Fair and the Virginians ; of Oliver Newcomo aud Becky Sharp, of Arthur Pendennis, of fair Ethel, and grand old Colonel - he spoke, too, of the mind, so mighty, yet so genial, of which these wondrous cbaracters wore but the creations - William Makepeace Thackoray himself. The benches were uurespousive, and Mr. Curtis cut the entertainment very short. He sat down ; the audience waited a few minutes, ns if to see whether or not he was going to reoommence, then slowly retired. Tfaore was a dead silonce on the etage ; tbe offioers did not eveu pay the custornary congratulations that are about as often uttered in cases of failuro as success - oven this mock courtesy was not forthcoming. At last a man was seeu climbing over the benchos upon the platform. The President iutroduced him as " our sehoolmaster." " Ah I" thought Curtis, " here is a man, no doubt, who hasread Thaokcray, and has come to compare notes." But the teaeher abruptly exclaimed : " Mr. Curtis, we'vo had a little dispute in our town this winter, and we ihink you are just the man to decide it." Mr. C. modestly asked to be excused, but it was no use. " The question is," continued the pedagoguo, " whether or not Longfellow is dead ?". " He tvas not dead last week," said Mr. Curtis, "for I had the pleasure of soeing him." The iuterlooutor's under jaw dropped. Evidently he was a champion oí the party that maiutaiueá the poet's de cease ; and he was disappointed to think tliat his victim lived, but, brightening up, he said : "Well, who the is dead? Is nobody dead ?" Mr. Curtis ran over the mortuary list of the illustrious men - from General Price upward, till he carne to Nathaniel Hawthorne. " Ah," said he, "perhaps you mean Hawthorne ?" " Hawthorne ? Hawthorne ?" said the teacher, " who is he ?" This was duly explainod to him, and, with the sentiment, " Well, I knew somebody was dead," off he went to teil the anti-Longfollow party that the poet still lived.