ath you shall have!_" uttered near the door that connects my room
with that of the Dr's., _in his own voice_ and in connection with a
declamation of Patrick Henry's famous speech, "Give me liberty or &c."
This letter of mine was answered by spectral demonstrations (not unlike
those of ghost-rappers,) in the Chancellor's room (next to my private
study) between 11 and 12 o'clock on the night after its delivery, and by
the insolent behavior of the University scullion, who on the following
day after many other impertinences told me: "_You must not speak so to
the Chancellor, my son!_" No other reply was made, and no further notice
taken of my complaint. And yet my deportment towards Dr. Ferris had
never been disrespectful, while his whole course towards me had been
singularly provoking and offensive. He seemed to be ignorant of the
fact, that I was both an alumnus and an officer of the Institution, and
that as such I expected to be regarded in the light of a gentleman and
of a scholar. By ignoring my protestations the Dr. treated me like a
freshman, while his goings in and out of the building and his degrading
alliance with the menials of the Institution, who were the accomplices
of the disorder, gave him the character rather of a mechanic's "boss"
watching over an apprentice than of a dignified president of a
respectable literary institution.

I had by that time, (the middle of September last,) almost wholly
recovered my health; the horrid recollections of last winter having been
supplanted by the amenities of my summer studies in solitude; and I had
nearly completed one of the new text-books I had agreed to prepare. A
week glided away--and two--the session commenced--I was quietly engaged
in my own business, without making any overtures to commence my public
duties. In fact, I hesitated about commencing at all. About the first of
October, a young man, a nephew of mine, brought me a telegraphic
despatch from a distant city, requesting a confirmation or denial of the
report there circulated, that I was dangerously ill, unconscious of
myself, &c., and in immediate imperative need of friendly aid, being
neither mentally nor bodily able to take care of myself. As there was a
mistake in the name of the enquirer, I considered the matter a hoax, got
up for mischief or the amusement of some inquisitive party, and retorted
an abrupt telegraphic: "_None of your business, sir!_" A few days after,
I received a letter of complaint from