Just so speakers are affected by conditions, by acoustics, atmosphere, size and temper of the audience, and the speaker’s own mental and physical condition.  Many a good sermon has been killed by a poor sexton.  Many a grand thought has perished in foul air.

Charles Spurgeon was preaching to a large audience in a mission church in London, when want of ventilation affected speaker and audience.  Mr. Spurgeon said to a member of the church:  “Brother, lift that window near you.”

“It won’t lift,” replied the brother.

“Then smash the glass and I’ll pay the bill to-morrow,” said Spurgeon.

Suppose the great horse Uhlan should be announced to trot against his record; suppose at the appointed time, with the grandstand crowded and every condition favorable, as the great trotting wonder reached the first quarter pole, some one were to run across the track just ahead of the horse, then another and another; what kind of a record would be made?

What management would allow a horse to be thus handicapped?  Where is the man who would be so inconsiderate as to thus hinder a horse?  Yet when a minister has worked while the world slept, that he not only might sustain his record but gather souls into the kingdom; when the opening exercises have given sufficient time for all to be present; when the text is announced and the preacher is reaching out after the attention and sympathy of his audience some one enters the door, walks nearly the full length of the aisle; then another and then two more, each one crossing the track of the preacher and yet he is expected to keep up his record and make good.  If you are a friend of your pastor be present when he announces his text; give him your attention and thus cheer him on as you would your favorite horse.

An eminent minister said:  “There, I had a good thought for you, but the creaking of the new boots of that brother coming down the aisle knocked it quite out of my head.”

One who had heard me many times said:  “Why do you do better at Ocean Grove than anywhere else I hear you?” My answer was:  “Because of conditions.  The great auditorium seats ten thousand, the atmosphere is invigorated by salt sea breezes; a choir of five hundred sing the audience into a receptive mood and the speaker is borne from climax to climax on wings of applause.”

I would not have you infer from this that a large audience is always necessary to success.  Indeed the most successful and satisfactory address I ever made was to an audience of one.  If I can make as favorable an impression upon you as I did upon that young lady I shall be gratified.

In Pauling, New York, Chauncey M. Depew by his attention and applause inspired me more than the whole audience beside; while time and again have I been helped to do my best by the presence of that matchless queen of the platform, Frances E. Willard.

The very opposite of greatness has had the same effect upon me.  At the Pontiac, Illinois, Chautauqua after lecturing to a great audience, I was invited by the superintendent of the State Reformatory to address the inmates of the prison.  At the close of a thirty minutes’ talk the superintendent said:  “Your address to my boys exceeded the one you gave at the Chautauqua.”