nty years ago--or to be exact nineteen years
ago--there was a student in my classes who was very brilliant, very
brilliant indeed. His name as I recall it was Wilder. So proficient was
he in his Greek that some of the students facetiously called him
Socrates, and some still more facetious even termed him Soc. I am sure,
Mr. Phelps, you have been in college a sufficient length of time to
apprehend the frolicsome nature of some of the students here."

"I certainly have," Will remarked with a smile, recalling his own
compulsory collar-button race.

"I fawncied so. Well, this Mr. Wilder to whom I refer was doing
remarkable work, truly remarkable work in Greek, but for some cause his
standing in mathematics was extremely low, and in other branches he was
not a brilliant success."

"What did he do?" inquired Will eager to bring the tedious description
to a close, and if possible receive the suggestions for which he had
come.

"My recollection is that he finally left college."

"Indeed!" Will endeavored to be duly impressed by the startling fact,
but as he recalled the professor's statement that the brilliant Wilder
was in college something like twenty years before this time, his
brilliancy in being able to complete the course and now be out from the
college did not seem to him to indicate any undue precocity on the part
of the aforesaid student.

"Yes, it was so. It has been my pleasure to receive an annual letter
from him, and I trust you will not think I am unduly immodest when I
state that he acknowledges that all his success in life is due to the
work he did here in my own classes in Winthrop. My sole motive in
referring to it is the desire to aid you."

"You think I may be another Wilder?" inquired Will lightly.

"Not exactly. That was not the thought that was uppermost. But it may
serve as an incentive to you."

"What is this Wilder doing now?"

"Ahem-m!" The professor cleared his throat repeatedly before he spoke.
"He is engaged in an occupation that brings him into contact with the
very best that has been thought and said, and also into contact with
some of the brightest and keenest intellects of our nation."

"He must be an editor or a publisher then."

"Not exactly. Not exactly, Mr. Phelps. He is engaged rather in a
mercantile way, though with the most scholarly works, I do assure you."

"Is he a book agent?"

"Ahem-m! Ahem-m! That is an expression I seldom use, Mr. Phelps. It has
become a somewhat