Page:Forty years of it (IA fortyyearsofit00whitiala).pdf/134

 "On what subject?" I asked.

"There's only one subject," he said,—"life." And his face was radiant with a really beautiful smile, warmed with his rich humor. I began to say that I would prepare something, but he would not let me finish my sentence.

"Prepare!" he exclaimed. "Why prepare? Just speak what's in your heart."

He was always like that. Once, a good while after, in one of his campaigns, he called me on the telephone one evening just at dinner time, and said:

"I want you to go to Ironville and speak to-*night."

I was tired, and, as I dislike to confess, somewhat reluctant,—I had always to battle so for a little time to write,—so that I hesitated, asked questions, told him, as usual, that I had no speech prepared.

"But you know it is written," he said, "that 'in that hour it shall be given you what ye shall say.'"

I could assure him that the prophecy had somewhat failed in my case, and that what was given me to say was not always worth listening to when it was said; and then I inquired:

"What kind of crowd will be there?"

"Oh, a good crowd!" he said.

"But what kind of people?"

"What kind of people?" he asked in a tone of great and genuine surprise. "What kind of people? Why, there's only one kind of people—just people, just folks."

I went of course, and I went as well to Golden Rule Park and to Golden Rule Hall, and there was