sual sports and rampages of boys I took to learning
rather readily. At the same time I became introspective and self-centered.
The brain cells of the most stupid person are constantly in action.
Cerebration goes on whether we will it or not. If we do not direct our
brain it will run riot and lead us into devious and dangerous paths.

The more I thought of myself, the more important I became; not proud and
supercilious, but simply important to my own little ego. I speculated in
my childish way, on the function of each organ of my body and the relation
it bore to the great scheme which we call existence. One day I got to
wondering what would happen if my heart should take a notion to stop and
rest for a few seconds. The thought of such a catastrophe made me so
nervous that all my organs apparently got out of gear and I had a
diminutive fit. From that day I began to have all sorts of nervous
symptoms, most of which were, to say the least, vague and indefinite.
Frequently I complained that I was afraid "something was going to happen."
Since then, whenever I hear that phrase I invariably associate it with a
person who has nothing to do and who is too lazy to do anything even if he
had ever so many duties. At that time I did not know enough about disease
symptoms to enable me to acquire a perfect ailment of any sort, but later,
when I had formed a speaking acquaintance with diseases, I began to get
them rapidly and in the most typical form. For the present I took life as
easy as I could and had no boyish ambition to be a cowboy or a desperado.
Such ambitions as I did foster were of the free-and-easy sort.

My first inspiration worth speaking of was after my visit to the circus.
Every male reader has been struck by it some time during his boyhood, and
it is a healthy ambition of which we need not be ashamed. Yes, I was going
to be an acrobat and wear pretty red tights with glittering spangles! It
would be nice, too, I thought incidentally, to be near the little lady who
wore the pink tights and did such awe-inspiring stunts on the
flying-trapeze. The circus sawdust ring and the flapping folds of canvas
may lure boys from books and study, but they give us our first ambition to
be and to do something. Mine was of short duration, however. It came and
went like the circus itself.

Soon after this I went on an errand to a shoemaker's repair shop, and the
life of a cobbler impressed me favorably. He had such a comfortable seat,
mad