and storm may come. In the darkest, stormiest hours of his later life,
to think back to the serene beauty of those New England hills was as a
hand of peace laid on his troubled spirit.

This love and joy in nature--and the trait was already in his
blood--was at first all that he gained from his trips to school. Then
came a teacher with a new way of instructing, a Miss Salina Cole, who
had mastered the art of visual memory. She taught her pupils to make
on the mind a photographic impression of the page, which could be
recalled in its entirety, even to the details of punctuation. This
was a process of study that appealed immediately to Russell's boyish
imagination. Moreover, it was something to "see if he could do,"
always fascinating to his love of experiment and adventure. It had
numerous other advantages. It was quick. It promised far-reaching
results. If page after page of the school books could be stored in the
mind and called up for future reference, getting an education would
become an easy matter. Besides, they could be called up and pondered
on in various places--fishing, for instance. He quickly decided
to would master this new method, and he went at it with his
characteristic energy and determination. Concentrating all his mental
force, he would study intently the printed page, and then closing his
eyes, repeat it word for word, even giving the punctuation marks. With
the other pupils, Salina Cole was not so successful, but with Russell
Conwell, the results were remarkable. It was a faculty of the utmost
value to him in after years. When in military camp and far from books,
he would recall page after page of his law works and study them during
the long days of garrison duty as easily as though the printed book
were in his hand.

But the work was of more value to him than the mere mastery of