sons, it was not surprising that the college cheers which filled the
air that afternoon, and in which only a few days earlier I had hoped to
join, struck terror to my heart.




IV


NATURALLY I was suspicious of all about me, and became more so each
day. But not until about a month later did I refuse to recognize my
relatives. While I was at Grace Hospital, my father and eldest brother
called almost every day to see me, and, though I said little, I still
accepted them in their proper characters. I remember well a
conversation one morning with my father. The words I uttered were few,
but full of meaning. Shortly before this time my death had been
momentarily expected. I still believed that I was surely about to die
as a result of my injuries, and I wished in some way to let my father
know that, despite my apparently ignominious end, I appreciated all
that he had done for me during my life. Few men, I believe, ever had a
more painful time in expressing their feelings than I had on that
occasion. I had but little control over my mind, and my power of speech
was impaired. My father sat beside my bed. Looking up at him, I said,
"You have been a good father to me."

"I have always tried to be," was his characteristic reply.

After the broken bones had been set, and the full effects of the severe
shock I had sustained had worn off, I began to gain strength. About the