JOURNEY TO EUROPE
THE last year of the nineteenth century began in Connecticut with a tremendous snowstorm in a temperature of 15 degrees. The next day I celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday by playing billiards in the morning and hockey on the ice in the afternoon and duplicate whist in the evening.
The next night I took the steamer Richard Peck for Providence and from there the morning train to Boston. The South Station at Boston on Summer Street, near where Emerson was born in 1803, had recently been completed and was called the 'largest in the world.' I went out to Cambridge and saw my old friends and former colleagues on the Harvard Faculty, lunching with Kittredge, dining with Briggs, talking with Santayana and Robinson and Gates and Barrett Wendell. I had a long talk with President Eliot about conditions at Yale and at Harvard; I explained the method of election at Yale, how I had been elected Professor by the Corporation but the Faculty had refused to agree, so the election was void. He wished to know what objection the Faculty had. 'Well, I had often made imprudent remarks,' to which he said, 'Prudence is not a desirable quality in a college professor.' He seemed astounded that at Yale the Faculty had more power than the Corporation, and gave me definitely to understand that at Harvard one man made all the appointments. I was never more impressed by his energy and determination and air of authority, though I had also never seen him in a more gracious and kindly and cheerful mood; so that I was as-