The night came.

I entered the hall with Belle on my arm, early, so as to secure her a front seat.
"Keep cool, John," were her whispered words, as I left her to take my place on the platform.
"Oh, I shall be cool enough.

I know every line by heart; have said it to myself one hundred and nineteen times without missing a word." I'm not going to bore you with the poem here; but will give the first four lines as they were _written_ and as I _spoke_ them: "Hail! Babbletown, fair village of the plain! Hail! friends and fellow-citizens.

In vain I strive to sing the glories of this place, Whose history back to early times I trace." The room was crowded, the president of the society made a few opening remarks, which closed by presenting Mr.Flutter, the poet of the occasion.

I was quite easy and at home until I arose and bowed as he spoke my name.