Page:The American Magazine (1906-1956) - volume 73.pdf/32

 A REMINISCENCE.

By John S. Reed

hen I was a freshman in Harvard College, I stood one day looking into the window of a book-store on Harvard Square, at a new volume of O. Henry. A quietly-dressed, unimpressive man with a sparse, dark beard came up and stood beside me.

Said he suddenly, ‘‘Have you read the new one?”

“No,” I said.

“Neither have I, I’ve read all the others, though.”

“He’s great, don’t you think?”

“Bully. Let’s go in and buy this one.”

So we went in and bought O. Henry. Coming out of the store, he turned to me and said, “You’d better come home to dinner with me. I’m all alone to-night.”

“All right,” I said. “I'd like to very much.”

He never asked my name; I thought he must be some College instructor.

We walked slowly through the College Yard, talking of what makes Harvard; not to a graduate, mind you, but to a freshman; the great football games, which have something stern and ideal about them; the big men in your Class, and how you're sure they’ll be big men in the world some day; “parties in Town,” on Spring nights, when some are just a little “edged.” He listened to these things with the air of a man who knew all about them, and loved them. And yet I noticed that his beard was a little gray.

Soon we arrived at a big house on a quiet street. There was no one home but the maid who served our dinner; and a great dinner it was, too. We both fell to like farm-hands. Somehow I got the impression that this man was about my own age.

After dinner we went in to a long, deep, comfortable room, lined with low book-cases. He produced some cigars; he sat in a big chair, and I reclined on a lounge. We discussed undergraduate clubs, and how to become popular; then we drifted into comic operas. It developed that he was rather fond of Eddy Foy and Richard Carle, my particular favorites in that direction.

I staid in the big room until nearly midnight. As I stood in the doorway, telling him what a good time I’d had, he said,

“You must come again, and we’ll have another talk. I don’t think I know your name.”

I told him.

“And now, may I ask yours?”

“I'm William James.”

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