k came. It
happened in November, 1895, during a recitation in German. That hour in
the class room was one of the most disagreeable I ever experienced. It
seemed as if my nerves had snapped, like so many minute bands of rubber
stretched beyond their elastic limit. Had I had the courage to leave
the room, I should have done so; but I sat as if paralyzed until the
class was dismissed.

That term I did not again attend recitations. Continuing my studies at
home, I passed satisfactory examinations, which enabled me to resume my
place in the class room the following January. During the remainder of
my college years I seldom entered a recitation room with any other
feeling than that of dread, though the absolute assurance that I should
not be called upon to recite did somewhat relieve my anxiety in some
classes. The professors, whom I had told about my state of health and
the cause of it, invariably treated me with consideration; but, though
I believe they never doubted the genuineness of my excuse, it was easy
matter to keep them convinced for almost two-thirds of my college
course. My inability to recite was not due usually to any lack of
preparation. However well prepared I might be, the moment I was called
upon, a mingling of a thousand disconcerting sensations, and the
distinct thought that at last the dread attack was at hand, would
suddenly intervene and deprive me of all but the power to say, "Not
prepared." Weeks would pass without any other record being placed
opposite my name than a zero, or a blank indicating that I had not been
called upon at all. Occasionally, however, a professor, in justice to
himself and to the other students, would insist that I recite, and at
such times I managed to make enough of a recitation to hold my place in
the class.

When I entered Yale, I had four definite ambitions: first, to secure an
election to a coveted secret society; second, to become one of the
editors of the _Yale Record_, an illustrated humorous bi-weekly; third
(granting that I should succeed in this latter ambition), to convince
my associates that I should have the position of business manager--an
office which I sought, not for the honor, but because I believed it
would enable me to earn an amount of money at least equal to the cost
of tuition for my years at Yale; fourth (and this was my chief
ambition), to win my diploma within the prescribed time. These four
ambitions I fortunately achieved.

A man's college days,