To those who have had difficulty in the study of mathematics the writer's experience may prove interesting. The master was too selfishly ambitious to pay much attention to the less gifted pupils, among whom the writer numbered himself, and the result was that the more gifted members of the class were soon far ahead. In spite of what he then thought was the right way to study, the writer could not prove a single problem when questioned by the master or the class. He could, however, work out some problems by following the letter of the rule. The performance was merely the application of the letter which had been committed to memory. The feat of solving scores of problems in this way, gained in difficulty with each new proposition attempted, and it was small wonder that discouragement grew into despair, so far as this study was concerned. No help was forthcoming from the master; being a mathematician rather than a teacher, he could not, or would not, waste time in the apparently vain attempt to explain.
After several months the writer mentioned his difficulty to a young man who was fitting himself at home for college. This man said, "Why, you are studying the wrong way. The problem must not be committed to memory, but reasoned out. If this and that be true, then such and such must be the result, because—," etc. That cleared up the whole matter. The writer took fresh hope, made one successful attempt after another, and gradually gained confidence as he proved his ability to demonstrate the propositions. The result was that by diligent application he caught up fairly well with the average members of the class before the year was out.
Prior to his enlightenment he thought the subject of geometry the most useless and uninteresting thing he had met with up to that time. After this, however, he found it to be fascinating in its invincible logic, its definiteness, and its practical utility. In college it became his favorite mathematical study—if any branch of this absorbing subject could be so distinguished.
