As he entered Harvard in advance, he was a junior when he decided to care for himself, and during the remainder of his college course, which, of course, was longer than usual, he struggled on, doing what he could during the summer vacation--teaching school for months at a time--and in the college reducing his expenses by acting as proctor, and compelling obedience to the rules of the institution.

Even the few who were aware of his limited means, and his efforts to increase them, had to acknowledge, as he stood before the multitude, delivering the valedictory, and exciting thunders of applause by his graceful gestures and thrilling eloquence, that he was not only an orator, but every inch a gentleman.
His fellow students who saw him then, and listened entranced to his clear, well-trained voice, thought not of Harold's threadbare coat and shining old-fashioned pants, which were so conspicuous as he pursued his studies in the class-room, but which were now concealed by the gown he wore over them.

They saw only the large, dark eyes, the finely chiseled features, and the manly form.

But as they listened to the burning words which showed so much clear, deep thought, they said to each other: 'The young man has a future before him.

Such eloquence as that could move the world, and rouse or quiet the wildest mob that ever surged through the streets of mad Paris.' Jerry was there, and saw and heard.