hard thinking. A room-mate whose cot was next to mine, was something
of a boxer. He possessed two pairs of gloves. He had often urged me to
accommodate him as an opponent, but I had steadily refused.

On learning of my plight, he laughed loudly. So did my other
room-mates as they learned of it. That night, before "taps," I bound
myself to an arrangement by which I was to pay my room-mate two-thirds
of my regimental pay per week for instruction in handling the gloves.
He gave me an hour each night for six weeks. At the end of the first
week, I had gained an advantage over him. I had a very long reach, and
a body as lithe as a panther. I gave up prayer meetings, lectures, and
socials, and devoted my self religiously to what is called "the noble
art of self-defence."

If my drill sergeant imagined that a thrashing would wake me up, he
was a very good judge. It did. Incidentally, it woke others up, too.
It woke my new instructor up, and half a dozen of my room-mates. At
the end of my six weeks' training, by dint of perseverance and
application to the thing in hand, I had succeeded in this new type of
education thrust upon me.

During all this time, I had not visited the gymnasium in the evening,
but was remembered there by all who had noticed the process of my
awakening. One night, I modestly approached the chief instructor and
asked him if I might not have another lesson by the man who had taught
me the first. He remembered the occasion and laughed, laughed at the
memory of it, and laughed at the brogue and what he supposed to be the
temerity of my asking. In asking, I had made my brogue just a little
thicker, and my manner just as diffident and modest as possible.