e first graduate of an Eastern university that Daniel
had ever seen, and he became the young Hoosier's ideal of elegance and
learning. Daniel had acquired at this time all that the county school
offered, and he made bold to approach the visitor and ask his advice as
to the best means of getting to college.

We need not trace the devious course by which, after much burning of oil
during half a dozen winters, Dan Harwood attained to a freshman's
dignity at New Haven, where, arriving with his effects in a canvas
telescope, he had found a scholarship awaiting him; nor need we do more
than record the fact that he had cared for furnaces, taken the night
shift on a trolley car, and otherwise earned money until, in his junior
year, his income from newspaper correspondence and tutoring made further
manual labor unnecessary. It is with profound regret that we cannot
point to Harwood as a football hero or the mainstay of the crew. Having
ploughed the mortgaged acres, and tossed hay and broken colts, college
athletics struck him as rather puerile diversion. He would have been
the least conspicuous man in college if he had not shone in debate and
gathered up such prizes and honors as were accessible in that field. His
big booming voice, recognizable above the din in all 'varsity
demonstrations, earned for him the sobriquet of "Foghorn" Harwood. For
the rest he studied early and late, and experienced the doubtful glory,
and accepted meekly the reproach, of being a grind.

History and the dismal science had interested him immensely. His
assiduous attention to the classes of Professor Sumner had not gone
unnoticed by that eminent instructor, who once called him by name in
Chapel Street, much to Dan's edification. He thought well of
belles-lettres and for a time toyed with an ambition to enrich English
literature with contributions of his own. During this period he
contributed to the "Lit" a sonnet called "The Clam-Digger" which
began:--

At rosy dawn I see thine argosy;

and which closed with the invocation:--

Fair tides reward thy long, laborious days.

The sonnet was neatly parodied in the "Record," and that journal printed
a gratuitous defense of the fisherman at whom, presumably, the poem had
been directed. "The sonnet discloses nothing," said the "Record," "as to
the race, color, or previous condition of servitude of the unfortunate
clammer to justify a son of Eli in attacking a poor man laudably engaged
in a per