and
southern Minnesota. Two or three boys wore real tailor-made suits, and
the easy flow of their trouser legs and the set of their linen collars
rendered me at once envious and discontented. "Some day," I said to
myself, "I too, will have a suit that will not gape at the neck and
crawl at the ankle," but I did not rise to the height of expecting a
ring and watch.

Shoes were just coming into fashion and one young man wore pointed "box
toes" which filled all the rest of us with despair. John Cutler also
wore collars of linen--real linen--which had to be laundered, but few of
us dared fix our hopes as high as that. John also owned three neckties,
and wore broad cuffs with engraved gold buttons, and on Fridays waved
these splendors before our eyes with a malicious satisfaction which
aroused our hatred. Of such complexion are the tragedies and triumphs of
youth!

How I envied Arthur Peters his calm and haughty bearing! Most of us
entered chapel like rabbits sneaking down a turnip patch, but Arthur and
John and Walter loitered in with the easy and assured manner of Senators
or Generals--so much depends upon leather and prunella. Gradually I lost
my terror of this ordeal, but I took care to keep behind some friendly
bulk like young Blakeslee, who stood six feet two in his gaiters.

With all these anxieties I loved the school and could hardly be wrested
from it even for a day. I bent to my books with eagerness, I joined a
debating society, and I took a hand at all the games. The days went by
on golden, noiseless, ball-bearing axles--and almost before I realized
it, winter was upon the land. But oh! the luxury of that winter, with no
snow drifts to climb, no corn-stalks to gather and no long walk to
school. It was sweet to wake each morning in the shelter of our little
house and know that another day of delightful schooling was ours. Our
hands softened and lightened. Our walk became each day less of a
"galumping plod." The companionship of bright and interesting young
people, and the study of well-dressed men and women in attendance upon
lectures and socials was a part of our instruction and had their
refining effect upon us, graceless colts though we were.

Sometime during this winter Wendell Phillips came to town and lectured
on _The Lost Arts_. My father took us all to see and hear this orator
hero of his boyhood days in Boston.

I confess to a disappointment in the event. A tall old gentleman with
handsome clean-cut