mT. 15.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 11 
science. But my old teacher, Mr. Avery, an alumnus 
of the college, entered the lists and carried the day. 
I wonder if I should have rusted out there if I had 
got the place. 
I must go back to say something of my omnivorous 
reading, which was, after all, the larger part of my 
education. I was a reader almost from my cradle, 
and I read everything I could lay hands on. There 
was no great choice in my early boyhood. But there 
was a little subscription library at Sauquoit, the stock- 
holders of which met four times a year, distributed the 
books by auction to the highest bidder (maximum, 
perhaps, ten or twelve cents) to have and to hold for 
three months; or if there was no competition each 
took what he chose. Rather slow circulation this ; 
but in the three months the books were thoroughly 
read. History I rather took to, but especially voyages 
_ and travels were my delight. There were no plays, 
not even Shakespeare in the library, but a sprinkling 
of novels. My novel-reading, up to the time when I 
was sent to school at Clinton, was confined, I think, to 
Miss Porter’s “ Children of the Abbey” and “ Thad- 
deus of Warsaw ” —the latter a soul-stirring pro- 
duction, of which I can recall a good deal; of the 
former nothing distinctly. One Sunday afternoon, of 
the first winter I was at Clinton, I went into the 
public room of one of the two village inns, where half 
a dozen of the villagers were assembled; and one 
was reading aloud “Quentin Durward,” which had 
just appexed 3 in an American (Philadelphia) reprint. 
was my introduction to the Waverley novels. 
The next summer, when at home for farm work, I 
found “ Rob Roy” in the little library I have men- 
tioned, took it out and read it with interest. In the 
