My First Summer 



long after dark ere I could possibly reach 

 the hotel, that the visitors would be asleep, 

 that nobody would know me, that I had 

 no money in my pockets, and moreover 

 was without a coat. I therefore compelled 

 myself to stop, and finally succeeded in rea- 

 soning myself out of the notion of seeking 

 my friend in the dark, whose presence I 

 only felt in a strange, telepathic way. I suc- 

 ceeded in dragging myself back through the 

 woods to camp, never for a moment waver- 

 ing, however, in my determination to go 

 down to him next morning. This I think 

 is the most unexplainable notion that ever 

 struck me. Had some one whispered in my 

 ear while I sat on the Dome, where I had 

 spent so many days, that Professor Butler 

 was in the valley, I could not have been 

 more surprised and startled. When I was 

 leaving the university he said, " Now, John, 

 I want to hold you in sight and watch your 

 career. Promise to write me at least once 

 a year.' I received a letter from him in 



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