If I had only started this joke on Atropos earlier and had applied these nine hundred hours on my college work, I could have graduated in three years instead of four, and that surely would have been in the line of efficiency.  But in those days I was devoting more time and attention to Clotho than to Atropos.  I would fain have ignored Lachesis altogether, but she made me painfully conscious of her presence, especially during the finals when, it seemed to me, she was unnecessarily diligent in her vocation.  I could have dispensed with much of her torsion with great equanimity.  I suppose that now I am trying to square accounts with her by playing this joke on her sister.

So I have decided that I shall read a play of Shakespeare to-night, another one to-morrow evening, and continue this until I have read all that he wrote.  In the fifty weeks of the year I can easily do this and then reread some of them many times.  I ought to be able to commit to memory several of the plays, too, and that would be good fun.  If those chaps back yonder could recite the Koran word for word I shall certainly be able to learn equally well some of these plays.  It would be worth while to recite “King Lear,” “Macbeth,” “Othello,” “Hamlet,” “The Tempest,” and “As You Like It,” the last week of the year just before I take my vacation of two weeks.  If I can recite even these six plays in those six evenings I shall feel that I did well in deciding for Shakespeare instead of tiddledywinks.

Next year I shall read history, and that will be rare fun, too.  In the nine hundred hours I shall certainly be able to read all of Fiske, Mommsen, Rhodes, Bancroft, McMaster, Channing, Bryce, Hart, Motley, Gibbon, and von Holst not to mention American statesmen.  About the Ides of December I shall hold a levee and sit in state as the characters of history file by.  I shall be able to call them all by name, to tell of the things they did and why they did them, and to connect their deeds with the world as it now is.  I can’t conceive of any picture-show equal to that, and all through my year with Shakespeare I shall be looking forward eagerly to my year with the historians.  I plainly see that the neighbors will not need to bring in any playthings to amuse and entertain me, though, of course, I shall be grateful to them for their kindly interest.  Then, the next year I shall devote to music, and if, by practising for nine hundred hours, I cannot acquire a good degree of facility in manipulating a piano or a violin, I must be too dull to ever aspire to the favor of Terpsichore.  If I but measure up to my hopes during this year I shall be saved the expense of buying my music ready-made.  The next year I shall devote to art, and by spending one entire evening with a single artist I shall thus become acquainted with three hundred of them.  If I become intimate with this number I shall not be lonesome, even if I do not know the others.  I think I shall give an art party at the holiday time of that year, and have three hundred people impersonate these artists.  This will afford me a good review of my studies in art.  It may diminish the gate receipts of the picture-show for a few evenings, but I suspect the world will be able to wag along.