Did I sing a nursery rhyme to a tune all one note?
Apollo was a dabbler in music beside me.

Did one of my first teeth drop out without my knowing it?
Casabianca on the burning deck couldn't touch me for fortitude.

Did I once and again chance to tell the truth?
Latimer, Ridley, George Washington, and Euclid might retire into private life at once, and never be heard of again! It was a terrific _role_ to have to keep up, and as I gradually emerged from frocks into trousers, and from an easy-going infancy into an anxious boyhood, the true nature of my affliction began to dawn upon me.
Hannibal Trotter, through no choice of his own, and yet by the undoubted ordering of Fate, was a hero, and he must act as such.

He must, in fact, keep it up or give it up; and a fellow cannot lightly give up the only _role_ he has.
In due time, after heroic efforts, I was, at about the age of ten, able to read to myself, and my attention was at once directed to a class of stories congenial to my reputation.

It would hardly be fair to inflict upon the patient reader a digest of my studies, but the one impression they left upon my mind was that a young man, if he is to be worth the name, must on every possible occasion both be a hero and show it.
This conclusion rather distressed me; for while the first condition was easy and natural enough, the second was no joke.