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ch…bell　tolled　during　that　entire　hour；　and　its　awesome　boom　went　sadly　sounding　over　these　hills。''

Conwell　believes　that　his　real　life　dates　from　a　happening　of　the　time　of　the　Civil　Wara　happening　that　still　looms　vivid　and　intense　before　him；　and　which　undoubtedly　did　deepen　and　strengthen　his　strong　and　deep　nature。　　Yet　the　real　Conwell　was　always　essentially　the　same。　　Neighborhood　tradition　still　tells　of　his　bravery　as　a　boy　and　a　youth；　of　his　reckless　coasting；　his　skill　as　a　swimmer　and　his　saving　of　lives；　his　strength　and　endurance；　his　plunging　out　into　the　darkness　of　a　wild　winter　night　to　save　a　neighbor's　cattle。　　His　soldiers　came　home　with　tales　of　his　devotion　to　them；　and　of　how　he　shared　his　rations　and　his　blankets　and　bravely　risked　his　life；　of　how　he　crept　off　into　a　swamp；　at　imminent　peril；　to　rescue　one　of　his　men　lost　or　mired　there。　　The　present　Conwell　was　always　Conwell；　in　fact；　he　may　be　traced　through　his　ancestry；　too；　for　in　him　are　the　sturdy　virtues；　the　bravery；　the　grim　determination；　the　practicality；　of　his　father；　and　romanticism；　that　comes　from　his　grandmother；　and　the　dreamy　qualities　of　his　mother；　who；　practical　and　hardworking　New　England　woman　that　she　was；　was　at　the　same　time　influenced　by　an　almost　startling　mysticism。

And　Conwell　himself　is　a　dreamer：　first　of　all　he　is　a　dreamer；　it　is　the　most　important　fact　in　regard　to　him！　　It　is　because　he　is　a　dreamer　and　visualizes　his　dreams　that　he　can　plan　the　great　things　that　to　other　men　would　seem　impossibilities；　and　then　his　intensely　practical　side　his　intense　efficiency；　his　power；　his　skill；　his　patience；　his　fine　earnestness；　his　mastery　over　others；　develop　his　dreams　into　realities。　　He　dreams　dreams　and　sees　visionsbut　his　visions　are　never　visionary　and　his　dreams　become　facts。

The　rocky　hills　which　meant　a　dogged　struggle　for　very　existence；　the　fugitive　slaves；　John　Brown　what　a　school　for　youth！　　And　the　literal　school　was　a　tiny　one…room　school…house　where　young　Conwell　came　under　the　care　of　a　teacher　who　realized　the　boy's　unusual　capabilities　and　was　able　to　give　him　broad　and　unusual　help。　　Then　a　wise　country　preacher　also　recognized　the　unusual；　and　urged　the　parents　to　give　still　more　education；　whereupon　supreme　effort　was　made　and　young　Russell　was　sent　to　Wilbraham　Academy。　　He　likes　to　tell　of　his　life　there；　and　of　the　hardships；　of　which　he　makes　light；　and　of　the　joy　with　which　week…end　pies　and　cakes　were　received　from　home！

He　tells　of　how　he　went　out　on　the　roads　selling　books　from　house　to　house；　and　of　how　eagerly　he　devoured　the　contents　of　the　sample　books　that　he　carried。　　‘‘They　were　a　foundation　of　learning　for　me；''　he　says；　soberly。　　‘‘And　they　gave　me　a　broad　idea　of　the　world。''

He　went　to　Yale　in　1860；　but　the　outbreak　of　the　war　interfered　with　college；　and　he　enlisted　in　1861。　　But　he　was　only　eighteen；　and　his　father　objected；　and　he　went　back　to　Yale。　　But　next　year　he　again　enlisted；　and　men　of　his　Berkshire　neighborhood；　likewise　enlisting；　insisted　that　he　be　their　captain；　and　Governor　Andrews；　appealed　to；　consented　to　commission　the　nineteen…year…　old　youth　who　was　so　evidently　a　natural　leader；　and　the　men　gave　freely　of　their　scant　money　to　get　for　him　a　sword；　all　gay　and　splendid　with　gilt；　and　upon　the　sword　was　the　declaration　in　stately　Latin　that；　‘‘True　friendship　is　eternal。''

And　with　that　sword　is　associated　the　most　vivid；　the　most　momentous　experience　of　Russell　Conwell's　life。

That　sword　hangs　at　the　head　of　Conwell's　bed　in　his　home　in　Philadelphia。　　Man　of　peace　that　he　is；　and　minister　of　peace；　that　symbol　of　war　has　for　over　half　a　century　been　of　infinite　importance　to　him。

He　told　me　the　story　as　we　stood　together　before　that　sword。　　And　as　he　told　the　story；　speaking　with　quiet　repression；　but　seeing　it　all　and　living　it　all　just　as　vividly　as　if　it　had　occurred　but　yesterday；　‘‘That　sword　has　meant　so　much　to　me；''　he　murmured；　and　then　he　began　the　tale：

‘‘A　boy　up　there　in　the　Berkshires；　a　neighbor's　son；　was　John　Ring；　I　call　him　a　boy；　for　we　all　called　him　a　boy；　and　we　looked　upon　him　as　a　boy；　for　he　was　under…sized　and　under…developed　so　much　so　that　he　could　not　enlist。

‘‘But　for　some　reason　he　was　devoted　to　me；　and　he　not　only　wanted　to　enlist；　but　he　also　wanted　to　be　in　the　artillery　company　of　which　I　was　captain；　and　I　could　only　take　him　along　as　my　servant。　　I　didn't　want　a　servant；　but　it　was　the　only　way　to　take　poor　little　Johnnie　Ring。

‘‘Johnnie　was　deeply　religious；　and　would　read　the　Bible　every　evening　before　turning　in。　　In　those　days　I　was　an　atheist；　or　at　least　thought　I　was；　and　I　used　to　laugh　at　Ring；　and　after　a　while　he　took　to　reading　the　Bible　outside　the　tent　on　account　of　my　laughing　at　him！　　But　he　did　not　stop　reading　it；　and　his　faithfulness　to　me　remained　unchanged。

‘‘The　scabbard　of　the　sword　was　too　glittering　for　the　regulations''the　ghost　of　a　smile　hovered　on　Conwell's　lips‘‘and　I　could　not　wear　it；　and　could　only　wear　a　plain　one　for　service　and　keep　this　hanging　in　my　tent　on　the　tent…pole。　　John　Ring　used　to　handle　it　adoringly；　and　kept　it　polished　to　brilliancy。It's　dull　enough　these　many　years；''　he　added；　somberly。　　‘‘To　Ring　it　represented　not　only　his　captain；　but　the　very　glory　and　pomp　of　war。

‘‘One　day　the　Confederates　suddenly　stormed　our　position　near　New　Berne　and　swept　through　the　camp；　driving　our　entire　force　before　them；　and　all；　including　my　company；　retreated　hurriedly　across　the　river；　setting　fire　to　a　long　wooden　bridge　as　we　went　over。　　It　soon　blazed　up　furiously；　making　a　barrier　that　the　Confederates　could　not　pass。

‘‘But；　unknown　to　everybody；　and　unnoticed；　John　Ring　had　dashed　back　to　my　tent。　　I　think　he　was　able　to　make　his　way　back　because　he　just　looked　like　a　mere　boy；　but　however　that　was；　he　got　past　the　Confederates　into　my　tent　and　took　down；　from　where　it　was　hanging　on　the　tent…　pole；　my　bright；　gold…scabbarded　sword。

‘‘John　Ring　seized　the　sword　that　had　long　been　so　precious　to　him。　　He　dodged　here　and　there；　and　actually　managed　to　gain　the　bridge　just　as　it　was　beginning　to　blaze。　　He　started　across。　　The　flames　were　every　moment　getting　fiercer；　the　smoke　denser；　and　now　and　then；　as　he　crawled　and　staggered　on；　he　leaned　for　a　few　seconds　far　over　the　edge　of　the　bridge　in　an　effort　to　get　air。　　Both　sides　saw　him；　both　sides　watched　his　terrible　progress；　even　while　firing　was　fiercely　kept　up　from　each　side　of　the　river。　　And　then　a　Confederate　officerhe　was　one　of　General　Pickett's　officersran　to　the　water's　edge　and　waved　a　white　handkerchief　and　the　firing　ceased。

‘‘　‘Tell　that　boy　to　come　back　here！'　he　cried。　　‘Tell　him　to　come　back　here　and　we　will　let　him　go　free！'

‘‘He　called　this　out　just　as　Ring　was　about　to　enter　upon　the　worst　part　of　the　bridgethe　cov…　ered　part；　where　there　were　top　and　bottom　and　sides　of　blazing　wood。　　The　roar　of　the　flames　was　so　close　to　Ring　that　he　could　not　hear　the　calls　from　either　side　of　the　river；　and　he　pushed　desperately　on　and　disappeared　in　the　covered　part。

‘‘There　was　dead　silence　except　for　the　crackling　of　the　fire。　　Not　a　man　cried　out。　　All　waited　in　hopeless　expectancy。　　And　then　came　a　mighty　yell　from　Northerner　and　Southerner　alike；　for　Johnnie　came　crawling　out　of　the　end　of　the　covered　wayhe　had　actually　passed　through　that　frightful　placeand　his　clothes　were　ablaze；　and　he　toppled　over　and　fell　into　shallow　water；　and　in　a　few　moments　he　was　dragged　out；　unconscious；　and　hurried　to　a　hospital。

‘‘He　lingered　for　a　day　or　so；　still　unconscious；　and　then　came　to　himself　and　smiled　a　little　as　he　found　that　the　sword　for　which　he　had　given　his　life　had　been　left　beside　him。　　He　took　it　in　his　arms。　　He　hugged　it　to　his　breast。　　He　gave　a　few　words　of　final　message　for　me。　　And　that　was　all。''

Conwell's　voice　had　gone　thrillingly　low　as　he　neared　the　end；　for　it　was　all　so　very；　very　vivid　to　him；　and　his　eyes　had　grown　tender　and　his　lips　more　strong　and　firm。　　And　he　fell　silent；　thinking　of　that　long…ago　happening；　and　though　he　looked　down　upon　the　thronging　traffic　of　Broad　Street；　it　was　clear　that　he　did　not　see　it；　and　that　if　the　rumbling　hubbub　of　sound　meant　anything　to　him　it　was　the　rumbling　of　the　guns　of　the　distant　past。　　When　he　spoke　again　it　was　with　a　still　tenser　tone　of　feeling。

‘‘When　I　stood　beside　the　body　of　John　Ring　and　realized　that　he　had　died　for　love　of　me；　I　made　a　vow　that　has　formed　my　life。　　I　vowed　that　from　that　moment　I　would　live　not　only　my　own　life；　but　that　I　would　also　live　the　life　of　John　Ring。　　And　from　that　moment　I　have　worked　sixteen　hours　every　dayeight　for　John　Ring's　work　and　eight　hours　for　my　own。''

A　curious　note　had　come　into　his　voice；　as　of　one　who　had　run　the　race　and　neared　the　goal；　fought　the　good　fight　and　neared　the　end。

‘‘Every　morning　when　I　rise　I　look　at　this　sword；　or　if　I　am　away　from　home　I　think　of　the　sword；　and　vow　anew　that　another　day　shall　see　sixteen　hours　of　work　from　me。''　　And　when　one　comes　to　know　Russell　Conwell　one　realizes　that　never　did　a　man　work　more　hard　and　constantly；

‘‘It　was　through　John　Ring　and　his　giving　his　life　through　devotion　to　me　that