ttle need to dwell on this part of my life.
College students in those days were only boys, and boys are very strange
animals. They have instincts. They somehow get to know if a fellow does
not relate facts as they took place. I like to put it that way, because,
after all, the mode of putting things is only one of the forms of
self-defense, and is less silly than the ordinary wriggling methods
which boys employ, and which are generally useless. I was rather given
to telling large stories just for the fun of it and, I think, told them
well. But somehow I got the reputation of not being strictly definite,
and when it was meant to indicate this belief they had an ill-mannered
way of informing you. This consisted in two or three fellows standing up
and shuffling noisily with their feet on the floor. When first I heard
this I asked innocently what it meant, and was told it was the noise
of the bearers' feet coming to take away Ananias. This was considered a
fine joke.

During my junior year I became unpopular, and as I was very cautious, I
cannot see why. At last, being hard up, I got to be foolishly reckless.
But why dwell on the failures of immaturity?

The causes which led to my leaving Nassau Hall were not, after all,
the mischievous outbreaks in which college lads indulge. Indeed, I have
never been guilty of any of those pieces of wanton wickedness which
injure the feelings of others while they lead to no useful result.
When I left to return home, I set myself seriously to reflect upon the
necessity of greater care in following out my inclinations, and from
that time forward I have steadily avoided, whenever it was possible, the
vulgar vice of directly possessing myself of objects to which I could
show no legal title. My father was indignant at the results of my
college career; and, according to my aunt, his shame and sorrow had
some effect in shortening his life. My sister believed my account of
the matter. It ended in my being used for a year as an assistant in the
shop, and in being taught to ring bells--a fine exercise, but not
proper work for a man of refinement. My father died while training his
bell-ringers in the Oxford triple bob--broke a blood-vessel somewhere.
How I could have caused that I do not see.

I was now about nineteen years old, and, as I remember, a middle-sized,
well-built young fellow, with large eyes, a slight mustache, and, I have
been told, with very good manners and a somewhat humorous turn.