I accordingly called on the lively young gentleman who two years before had indulged in those little frolics at my expense.  With diplomatic ceremony and circumlocution I introduced the object of my visit, and wound up with an ultimatum to this effect:  There must either be a frank apology for past indignities, or he must accompany me, each with a friend, to some suitable spot, and there decide which was “the better man.”

If he had been called on to expiate an offence committed before he was breeched, the young gentleman could not have been more astounded.  Two years had made some change in our relative positions.  I was now about his equal in size, and felt a comfortable sense of my superiority, so far as strength was concerned.  My shoulders had broadened, and my muscles been developed, so as to present to the critical and interested observer a somewhat threatening appearance.  Mr. ——­ (who, by the way, was a good fellow in the main) protested that he had never intended to give me any offence,—­that he, in fact, did not remember the circumstances to which I referred,—­and finished by peremptorily declining my proposal.  When I reflected on the disparity between us in strength, which my two years’ practice had established, I felt that it would be cowardly for me to urge the matter further, especially as it was so long a time since he had given me cause of complaint.  I have only to add, that we parted without a collision, and that, in my heart, I could not help thanking him for the service he had rendered in inciting me to the regimen which had resulted so beneficially to my health.

The impetus given to my gymnastic education by the little incident I have just related was continued without abatement through my whole college life.  Gradually I acquired the reputation of being the strongest man in my class.  I discovered that with every day’s development of my strength there was an increase of my ability to resist and overcome all fleshly ailments, pains, and infirmities,—­a discovery which subsequent experience has so amply confirmed, that, if I were called on to condense the proposition which sums it up into a formula, it would be in these words:  Strength is Health.

Until I had renovated my bodily system by a faithful gymnastic training, I had been subject to nervousness, headache, indigestion, rush of blood to the head, and a weak circulation.  It was torture to me to have to listen to the grating of a slate-pencil, the filing of a saw, or the scratching of glass.  As I grew in strength, my nerves ceased to be impressible to such annoyances.  Another good effect was to take away all appetite for any stimulating food or drink.  Although I had never applied “rebellious liquors” to my blood, I had been in the habit of taking a bowl of strong coffee morning and night.  Now a craving for milk took the place of this want, and my coffee was gradually diminished to less than a fourth of what had been a customary indulgence.