d up when I arrived
in Peoria. I went to bed, departing early the following morning,
by steamer, for Peru, a distance of twenty-five miles. From there
I took the stage-coach to Dixon, a distance of twelve miles.

There came up another storm during the journey from Peru to Dixon,
and the driver of the stage-coach lost his way and could not keep
in the road. I ran along in front of the coach most of the way,
in order to keep it in the road, the horses following me. From
Dixon I crossed the river, proceeding to Mount Morris by private
conveyance. I never had a more severe trip, and I felt its effects
for very many years afterwards.

The days I spent in old Mount Morris Seminary were the pleasantest
of my life. I was just at the age which might be termed the
formative period of a young man's career. Had I been surrounded
then by other companions, by other environment, my whole future
might have been entirely different. Judged by the standard of the
great Eastern institutions, Mount Morris was not even a third-class
college; but it was a good school, attended by young men of an
unusually high order. In those early days it was the leading
institution of higher learning in Northern Illinois. I enjoyed
Mount Morris, and the friendships formed there continued throughout
my life.

I do not know whether I was a popular student or not, but I was
president of the Amphictyon Society, and, according to the usual
custom, was to deliver the address on retiring from the presidency.
During the course of the address I fainted and was carried from
the chapel, which was very hot and very crowded. I was rolled
around in the snow a while and speedily revived. I was immediately
asked to let one of the boys read the remainder of the address,
but the heroic treatment to which I had been subjected stirred me
to profane indifference respecting its fate. Later I was selected
to deliver the valedictory. So I suppose I must have enjoyed a
reasonable degree of popularity among my fellow students.

It was at Mount Morris that I first became intimate with the late
Robert R. Hitt. He and his brother John, who recently died, were
classmates of mine, their father being the resident Methodist
preacher at Mount Morris. Robert R. Hitt remained my friend from
our school days until his death. He was a candidate for the Senate
against me at one time, but he was no politician, and I defeated
him so easily that he could not harbor a bitter fe