But he was not content with working in term-time. When the summer
brought a vacation, he felt that it was too long a time to be lost. He
induced ten students to join him, and hired Professor Dunshee to give
them lessons for one month. During that time he read the Eclogues and
Georgics of Virgil entire, and the first six books of Homer's Iliad,
accompanied by a thorough drill in the Latin and Greek grammar. He must
have "toiled terribly," and could have had few moments for recreation.
When the fall term commenced, in company with Miss Almeda Booth, a
mature young lady of remarkable intellect, and some other students, he
formed a Translation society, which occupied itself with the Book of
Romans, of course in the Greek version. During the succeeding winter he
read the whole of "Demosthenes on the Crown."

The mental activity of the young man (he was now twenty) seems
exhaustless. All this time he took an active part in a literary society
composed of some of his fellow-students. He had already become an easy,
fluent, and forcible speaker--a very necessary qualification for the
great work of his life.

"Oh, I suppose he had a talent for it," some of my young readers may
say.

Probably he had; indeed, it is certain that he had, but it may encourage
them to learn that he found difficulties at the start. When a student at
Geauga, he made his first public speech. It was a six minutes' oration
at the annual exhibition, delivered in connection with a literary
society to which he belonged. He records in a diary kept at the time
that he "was very much scared," and "very glad of a short curtain across
the platform that hid my shaking legs from the audience." Such
experiences are not uncommon in the career of men afterward noted for