ly, disputing weighty political questions, thus
advancing the forensic side of my education, but later in the winter I
helped to organize a dramatic company which gave a play for the benefit
of the Club Library.

Just why I should have been chosen "stage director" of our "troupe," I
cannot say, but something in my ability to declaim _Regulus_ probably
led to this high responsibility. At any rate, I not only played the
leading juvenile, I settled points of action and costume without the
slightest hesitation. Cora was my _ingenue_ opposite, it fell out, and
so we played at love-making, while meeting coldly at the family dining
table.

Our engagement in the town hall extended through two March evenings and
was largely patronized. It would seem that I was a dominant figure on
both occasions, for I declaimed a "piece" on the opening night, one of
those resounding orations (addressed to the Carthaginians), which we all
loved, and which permitted of thunderous, rolling periods and passionate
gestures. If my recollection is not distorted, I was masterful that
night--at least, Joe Pritchard agreed that I was "the best part of the
show." Joe was my friend, and I hold him in especial affection for his
hearty praise of my effort.

On this same night I also appeared in a little sketch representing the
death of a veteran of the Revolutionary War, in which the dying man
beholds in a vision his beloved Leader. Walter Blakeslee was the
"Washington" and I, with heavily powdered hair, was the veteran. On the
second night I played the juvenile lover in a drama called _His
Brother's Keeper_. Cora as "Shellie," my sweetheart, was very lovely in
pink mosquito netting, and for the first time I regretted her interest
in the book agent from Cerro Gordo. Strange to say I had no fear at all
as I looked out over the audience which packed the town hall to the
ceiling. Father and mother were there with Frank and Jessie, all quite
dazed (as I imagined) by my transcendent position behind the foot
lights.

It may have been this very night that Willard Eaton, the county
attorney, spoke to my father saying, "Richard, whenever that boy of
yours finishes school and wants to begin to study law, you send him
right to me," which was, of course, a very great compliment, for the
county attorney belonged to the best known and most influential firm of
lawyers in the town. At the moment his offer would have seemed very dull
and commonplace to me. I would have