He has made three successful lecture tours in America. From Nova Scotia to New Orleans and from the Atlantic to the Pacific he has appeared in all the large cities, and the immense audiences that have welcomed him everywhere attest his success. [Illustration] His fun is contagious. Socially he is one of the most entertaining of men, with a good story apropos of nearly everything. He tells in his own most humorous way one instance of the Chicago reporter’s impudence and enterprise. One night he had been in bed in the Grand Pacific Hotel perhaps an hour or so when there came a very decided rapping at his chamber door. “Who’s there?” called Max O’Rell. “A reporter,” came the answer. “Well, I can’t see you now. I’m in bed.” The Frenchman heard his door being pushed open, and the chair which he had placed against it tumbled over. Some one advanced into the room, struck a match, and proceeded to light the gas. “Well, well! What’ll you have, sir, what’ll you have?” cried Max O’Rell, indignant at this cool intruder. The reporter tossed the match into the fireplace, and throwing himself into a chair, said: “What’ll I have? Oh, I’ll have a whiskey cocktail.” He wrote a book entitled “America as Seen through French Spectacles.” If he had not written that book he would have been still more popular with the lyceum. He made a trip through Australia and wrote another book which the Australians didn’t like. Had he possessed Mark Twain’s sagacity, sincerity, and love of his fellow-man, and had he seen things from their favorable point of view instead of from their objectionable side, he might certainly get as much fun out of it and his popularity would have continued. He left a riley wake clear around the world, whereas the American humorist made friends of all who met or heard or read him. I am very fond of Max O’Rell. At the same time, it is impossible to enjoy all his eccentricities. But I made allowance for all of his peculiarities, and my heart went out in sympathy for him when he was obliged to cut short his last tour and return to London because of ill health. He is the heroic mirth provoker of his time--unlike any other humorous lecturer. His audiences are kept in convulsions of laughter from beginning to end. Occasionally one thinks he has found a let-up and that he is going to have a rest, when all of a sudden he is struck in another funny spot, and things go on that way until he has finished. I never could understand why he should not be one of the greatest natural platform attractions in the world, for I have never known a man to give an audience more delight. In his “Brother Jonathan and His Continent” he says: “Major Pond was the only man I met in America who was not a colonel.” [Illustration: NYE AND RILEY] * * * * *