She reported me to all the crowd, and said-- "Here is a boy seven years old who can't chaw tobacco." By the looks and comments which this produced, I realized that I was a degraded object; I was cruelly ashamed of myself.

I determined to reform.

But I only made myself sick; I was not able to learn to chew tobacco.

I learned to smoke fairly well, but that did not conciliate anybody, and I remained a poor thing, and characterless.

I longed to be respected, but I never was able to rise.