^.T. 15.] AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 11 



science. But my old teacher, Mr. Avery, an alumnus 

 of tlie 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 appeared in an American (Philadelphia) reprint. 

 This 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 



