It was the burst of acclamation which greeted Richard Clyde, first in honor though last in time.

I bent my ear to listen, but the words blent confusedly together, forming one wave of utterance, that rolled on without leaving one idea behind.

I knew he was eloquent, from the enthusiastic applause which occasionally interrupted him, but I had lost the power of perception; and had Demosthenes risen from his grave, it would scarcely have excited in me any emotion.
Was this my introduction to that world,--that great world, of which I had heard and thought and dreamed so much?
How soon had my garlands faded,--my fine gold become dim! Could they not have spared me one day, _me_, who had never injured them?
And yet they might aim their barbed darts at me.

I would not care for that,--oh, no, it was not that.

It was the blow that attacked an angel mother's fame.