L'amitié jette des racines bien profondes dans les cœurs honnêtes.
--Vingt Ans Après.
ON the first day of October 1890 I arrived in Cambridge and went to my rooms at 22 Winthrop Street. My roommate was Arthur Gordon (now the Reverend Doctor) who was a son of the Reverend Doctor A. J. Gordon of Boston, one of the greatest pulpit orators in America, and an intimate friend of my father. Arthur was six or seven years younger than I, and was in the Junior Class at Harvard College; thus he used the rooms only during the day, returning to Boston every evening. He was the best of company, always cheerful; and I wished very much he could have lived in the rooms as I did, for I missed him in the evenings, and was lonely. Fortunately he had two lovely and charming sisters, Elsie and Helen.
In going to Harvard I made up my mind that I would learn all I could, not only from my studies and teachers, but also from my new associations. There were many Yale men studying in the Harvard Law School; it was a strong temptation to see them, but I resolutely avoided them and all former friends and everything that in any way reminded me of past years. This life at Harvard was a new experience, and I determined to get the most out of it. Thus I ate at a table in Memorial Hall, roomed with a Harvard undergraduate, cultivated Harvard acquaintances, and altogether behaved as if I had never heard of Yale.