worries of those about me. Whether in this I was different from other
youngsters who develop a ludicrous, though pathetic, sense of
responsibility for the universe, I do not know. But in my case the most
extreme instance occurred during a business depression, when the family
resources were endangered. I began to fear that my father (than whom a
more hopeful man never lived) might commit suicide.

After all, I am not sure that the other side of my nature--the natural,
healthy, boyish side--did not develop equally with these timid and
morbid tendencies, which are not so very uncommon in childhood.
Certainly the natural, boyish side was more in evidence on the surface.
I was as good a sport as any of my playfellows in such games as
appealed to me, and I went a-fishing when the chance offered. None of
my associates thought of me as being shy or morose. But this was
because I masked my troubles, though quite unconsciously, under a
camouflage of sarcasm and sallies of wit, or, at least, what seemed to
pass for wit among my immature acquaintances. With grown-ups, I was at
times inclined to be pert, my degree of impudence depending no doubt
upon how ill at ease I was and how perfectly at ease I wished to
appear. Because of the constant need for appearing happier than I
really was, I developed a knack for saying things in an amusing,
sometimes an epigrammatic, way. I recall one remark made long before I
could possibly have heard of Malthus or have understood his theory
regarding birth rate and food supply. Ours being a large family of
limited means and, among the five boys of the family, unlimited
appetites, we often used the cheaper, though equally nutritious, cuts
of meat. On one occasion when the steak was tougher than usual, I
epitomized the Malthusian theory by remarking: "I believe in fewer
children and better beefsteak!"