THE STORY OF AN ENTOMOLOGIST 



Mrs. Lowell were seated immediately in front of me, and with 

 their charming courtesy they managed to appear interested until 

 the close. I was a little annoyed by the slowness of the lantern 

 operator, but Sedgwick explained to me that he was an elderly 

 negro who had been running the lantern for years, and that 

 he thought he knew how to do it better than the lecturer did. 

 I was a little afraid of the people in my audience as they looked 

 so preternaturally intelligent; and I was very serious during the 

 first seven lectures. Just before entering the hall to give the last 

 lecture, however, Sedgwick gave me Mr. Lowell's check for 

 twelve hundred dollars, and with this in my pocket I felt 

 exhilarated and able to take liberties even with a Lowell Insti- 

 tute audience. To my surprise, they liked it and seemed to enjoy 

 my stories so much that I told many of them. Even the Boston 

 Transcript spoke next day with especial favor of that last lecture, 

 informal as it was. 



In mentioning the Lowell Institute audience I am reminded of 

 an incident. I spent the five weeks during this lecture course at 

 the St. Botolph Club, and on one of the off nights after dinner, 

 in one of the reading rooms, I heard two men, sitting not far 

 from me, discussing some subject rather vigorously. One of 

 them said, "I tell you, my friend, the world is full of sham, and 

 I think that Boston's pretense to intellectuality is large part sham. 

 Look at lots of the things you see around us here. Take the 

 Lowell Institute lectures, for example. A lot of people go there 

 because they think they ought to. They listen to a whole lot of 

 uninteresting and sometimes absurd statements and look owlishly 

 wise, and then go home and say to themselves, 'What superior 

 people we are.' " 



I could not help overhearing the man and listened with a very 

 amused interest. I caught the eye of the other one, who hap- 



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