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From Canal Boy to President; Or, the Boyhood and Manhood of James A. Garfield

by Jr. Horatio Alger · English · Gutenberg #14964 · 357,651 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: From Canal Boy to President; Or, the Boyhood and Manhood of James A. Garfield

Author: Jr. Horatio Alger


        
Release date: February 7, 2005 [eBook #14964]
                Most recently updated: December 19, 2020

Language: English

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Credits: Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Josephine Paolucci, Joshua Hutchinson
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM CANAL BOY TO PRESIDENT; OR, THE BOYHOOD AND MANHOOD OF JAMES A. GARFIELD ***




Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Josephine Paolucci, Joshua Hutchinson
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.







[Illustration: JAMES A. GARFIELD,
AT THE AGE OF 16.
_Copied by permission of_ J.F. RYDER, _Cleveland, G._]




FROM

CANAL BOY TO PRESIDENT,

OR THE

BOYHOOD AND MANHOOD

OF

JAMES A. GARFIELD.

BY

HORATIO ALGER, JR.,

AUTHOR OF RAGGED DICK; LUCK AND PLUCK; TATTERED TOM, ETC.

_ILLUSTRATED_.

NEW YORK

AMERICAN PUBLISHERS CORPORATION

310-318 SIXTH AVENUE

1881




TO

HARRY AND JAMES GARFIELD

WHOSE PRIVATE SORROW

IS THE PUBLIC GRIEF,

THIS MEMORIAL OF THEIR ILLUSTRIOUS FATHER

Is inscribed

WITH THE WARMEST SYMPATHY.




GENERAL PREFACE.


The present series of volumes has been undertaken with the view of
supplying the want of a class of books for children, of a vigorous,
manly tone, combined with a plain and concise mode of narration. The
writings of Charles Dickens have been selected as the basis of the
scheme, on account of the well-known excellence of his portrayal of
children, and the interests connected with children--qualities which
have given his volumes their strongest hold on the hearts of parents.
These delineations having thus received the approval of readers of
mature age, it seemed a worthy effort to make the young also
participants in the enjoyment of these classic fictions, to introduce
the children of real life to these beautiful children of the
imagination.

With this view, the career of Little Nell and her Grandfather, Oliver,
Little Paul, Florence Dombey, Smike, and the Child-Wife, have been
detached from the large mass of matter with which they were originally
connected, and presented, in the author's own language, to a new class
of readers, to whom the little volumes will we doubt not, be as
attractive as the larger originals have so long proved to the general
public. We have brought down these famous stories from the library to
the nursery--the parlor table to the child's hands--having a precedent
for the proceeding, if one be needed, in the somewhat similar work, the
Tales from Shakespeare, by one of the choicest of English authors and
most reverential of scholars, Charles Lamb.

Newtonville, Mass.




PREFACE.


If I am asked why I add one to the numerous Lives of our dead President,
I answer, in the words of Hon. Chauncey M. Depew, because "our annals
afford no such incentive to youth as does his life, and it will become
one of the Republic's household stories."

I have conceived, therefore, that a biography, written with a view to
interest young people in the facts of his great career, would be a
praiseworthy undertaking. The biography of General Garfield, however
imperfectly executed, can not but be profitable to the reader. In this
story, which I have made as attractive as I am able, I make no claim to
originality. I have made free use of such materials as came within my
reach, including incidents and reminiscences made public during the last
summer, and I trust I have succeeded, in a measure, in conveying a
correct idea of a character whose nobility we have only learned to
appreciate since death has snatched our leader from us.

I take pleasure in acknowledging my obligations to two Lives of
Garfield, one by Edmund Kirke, the other by Major J.M. Bundy. Such of my
readers as desire a more extended account of the later life of Gen.
Garfield, I refer to these well-written and instructive works.

HORATIO ALGER, JR.

New York, _Oct_. 8, 1881.




CONTENTS.


I.--THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES

II.--GROWING IN WISDOM AND STATURE

III.--IN QUEST OF FORTUNE

IV.--ON THE TOW-PATH

V.--AN IMPORTANT CONVERSATION

VI.--JAMES LEAVES THE CANAL

VII.--THE CHOICE OF A VOCATION

VIII.--GEAUGA SEMINARY

IX.--WAYS AND MEANS

X.--A COUSIN'S REMINISCENCES

XI.--LEDGE HILL SCHOOL

XII.--WHO SHALL BE MASTER?

XIII.--JAMES LEAVES GEAUGA SEMINARY

XIV.--AT HIRAM INSTITUTE

XV.--THREE BUSY YEARS

XVI.--ENTERING WILLIAMS COLLEGE

XVII.--LIFE IN COLLEGE

XVIII.--THE CANAL-BOY BECOMES A COLLEGE PRESIDENT

XIX.--GARFIELD AS A COLLEGE PRESIDENT

XX.--GARFIELD BECOMES A STATE SENATOR

XXI.--A DIFFICULT DUTY

XXII.--JOHN JORDAN'S DANGEROUS JOURNEY

XXIII.--GARFIELD'S BOLD STRATEGY

XXIV.--THE BATTLE OF MIDDLE CREEK

XXV.--THE PERILOUS TRIP UP THE BIG SANDY

XXVI.--THE CANAL-BOY BECOMES A CONGRESSMAN

XXVII.--GARFIELD'S COURSE IN CONGRESS

XXVIII.--THE MAN FOR THE HOUR

XXIX.--GARFIELD AS A LAWYER

XXX.--THE SCHOLAR IN POLITICS

XXXI.--THE TRIBUTES OF FRIENDS

XXXII.--FROM CANAL-BOY TO PRESIDENT

XXXIII.--THE NEW ADMINISTRATION

XXXIV.--THE TRAGIC END

XXXV.--MR. DEPEW'S ESTIMATE OF GARFIELD

XXXVI.--THE LESSONS OF HIS LIFE




THE

BOYHOOD AND MANHOOD

OF

JAMES A. GARFIELD.




CHAPTER I.

THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES.


From a small and rudely-built log-cabin a sturdy boy of four years
issued, and looked earnestly across the clearing to the pathway that led
through the surrounding forest. His bare feet pressed the soft grass,
which spread like a carpet before the door.

"What are you looking for, Jimmy?" asked his mother from within the
humble dwelling.

"I'm looking for Thomas," said Jimmy.

"It's hardly time for him yet. He won't be through work till after
sunset."

"Then I wish the sun would set quick," said Jimmy.

"That is something we can not hasten, my son. God makes the sun to rise
and to set in its due season."

This idea was probably too advanced for Jimmy's comprehension, for he
was but four years of age, and the youngest of a family of four
children. His father had died two years before, leaving a young widow,
and four children, the eldest but nine, in sore straits. A long and
severe winter lay before the little family, and they had but little corn
garnered to carry them through till the next harvest. But the young
widow was a brave woman and a devoted mother.

"God will provide for us," she said, but sometimes it seemed a mystery
how that provision was to come. More than once, when the corn was low in
the bin, she went to bed without her own supper, that her four children,
who were blessed with hearty appetites, might be satisfied. But when
twelve months had gone by, and the new harvest came in, the fields which
she and her oldest boy had planted yielded enough to place them beyond
the fear of want. God did help them, but it was because they helped
themselves.

But beyond the barest necessaries the little family neither expected
nor obtained much. Clothing cost money, and there was very little money
in the log-cabin, or indeed in the whole settlement, if settlement it
can be called. There was no house within a mile, and the village a mile
and a half away contained only a school-house, a grist-mill, and a
little log store and dwelling.

Two weeks before my story opens, a farmer living not far away called at
the log-cabin. Thomas, the oldest boy, was at work in a field near the
house.

"Do you want to see mother?" he asked.

"No, I want to see you."

"All right, sir! Here I am," said Thomas, smiling pleasantly.

"How old are you?" asked the farmer.

"Eleven years old, sir."

The farmer surveyed approvingly the sturdy frame, broad shoulders, and
muscular arms of the boy, and said, after a pause, "You look pretty
strong of your age."

"Oh, yes, sir," answered Thomas, complacently "I am strong."

"And you are used to farm work?"

"Yes, sir. I do about all the outdoor work at home, being the only boy.
Of course, there is Jimmy, but he is only four, and that's too young to
work on the farm."

"What does he want?" thought Thomas.

He soon learned.

"I need help on my farm, and I guess you will suit me," said Mr. Conrad,
though that was not his name. In fact, I don't know his name, but that
will do as well as any other.

"I don't know whether mother can spare me, but I can ask her," said
Thomas. "What are you willing to pay?"

"I'll give you twelve dollars a month, but you'll have to make long
days."

Twelve dollars a month! Tom's eyes sparkled with joy, for to him it
seemed an immense sum--and it would go very far in the little family.

"I am quite sure mother will let me go," he said. "I'll go in and ask
her."

"Do so, sonny, and I'll wait for you here."

Thomas swung open the plank door, and entered the cabin.

It was about twenty feet one way by thirty the other. It had three small
windows, a deal floor, and the spaces between the logs of which it was
built were filled in with clay. It was certainly an humble dwelling, and
the chances are that not one of my young readers is so poor as not to
afford a better. Yet, it was not uncomfortable. It afforded fair
protection from the heat of summer, and the cold of winter, and was
after all far more desirable as a home than the crowded tenements of our
larger cities, for those who occupied it had but to open the door and
windows to breathe the pure air of heaven, uncontaminated by foul odors
or the taint of miasma.

"Mother," said Thomas, "Mr. Conrad wants to hire me to work on his farm,
and he is willing to pay me twelve dollars a month. May I go?"

"Ask Mr. Conrad to come in, Thomas."

The farmer entered, and repeated his request.

Mrs. Garfield, for this was the widow's name, was but little over
thirty. She had a strong, thoughtful face, and a firm mouth, that spoke
a decided character. She was just the woman to grapple with adversity,
and turning her unwearied hands to any work, to rear up her children in
the fear of the Lord, and provide for their necessities as well as
circumstances would admit.

She didn't like to spare Thomas, for much of his work would be thrown
upon her, but there was great lack of ready money and the twelve dollars
were a powerful temptation.

"I need Thomas at home," she said slowly, "but I need the money more. He
may go, if he likes."

"I will go," said Thomas promptly.

"How often can you let him come home?" was the next question.

"Every fortnight, on Saturday night. He shall bring his wages then."

This was satisfactory, and Thomas, not stopping to change his clothes,
for he had but one suit, went off with his employer.

His absence naturally increased his mother's work, and was felt as a
sore loss by Jimmy, who was in the habit of following him about, and
watching him when he was at work. Sometimes his brother gave the little
fellow a trifle to do, and Jimmy was always pleased to help, for he was
fond of work, and when he grew older and stronger he was himself a
sturdy and indefatigable worker in ways not dreamed of then.

The first fortnight was up, and Thomas was expected home. No one was
more anxious to see him than his little brother, and that was why Jimmy
had come out from his humble home, and was looking so earnestly across
the clearing.

At last he saw him, and ran as fast as short legs could carry him to
meet his brother.

"Oh, Tommy, how I've missed you!" he said.

"Have you, Jimmy?" asked Thomas, passing his arm around his little
brother's neck. "I have missed you too, and all the family. Are all
well?"

"Oh, yes."

"That is good."

As they neared the cabin Mrs. Garfield came out, and welcomed her oldest
boy home.

"We are all glad to see you, Thomas," she said. "How have you got
along?"

"Very well, mother."

"Was the work hard?"

"The hours were pretty long. I had to work fourteen hours a day."

"That is too long for a boy of your age to work," said his mother
anxiously.

"Oh, it hasn't hurt me, mother," said Thomas, laughing. "Besides, you
must remember I have been well paid. What do you say to that?"

He drew from his pocket twelve silver half-dollars, and laid them on
the table, a glittering heap.

"Is it all yours, Tommy?" asked his little brother wonderingly.

"No, it belongs to mother. I give it to her."

"Thank you, Thomas," said Mrs. Garfield, "but at least you ought to be
consulted about how it shall be spent. Is there anything you need for
yourself?"

"Oh, never mind me! I want Jimmy to have a pair of shoes."

Jimmy looked with interest at his little bare feet, and thought he would
like some shoes. In fact they would be his first, for thus far in life
he had been a barefooted boy.

"Jimmy shall have his shoes," said Mrs. Garfield; "when you see the
shoemaker ask him to come here as soon as he can make it convenient."

So, a few days later the shoemaker, who may possibly have had no shop of
his own, called at the log-cabin, measured Jimmy for a pair of shoes,
and made them on the spot, boarding out a part of his pay.

The first pair of shoes made an important epoch in Jimmy Garfield's
life, for it was decided that he could now go to school.




CHAPTER II.

GROWING IN WISDOM AND STATURE.


The school was in the village a mile and a half away. It was a long walk
for a little boy of four, but sometimes his sister Mehetabel, now
thirteen years old, carried him on her back. When in winter the snow lay
deep on the ground Jimmy's books were brought home, and he recited his
lessons to his mother.

This may be a good time to say something of the family whose name in
after years was to become a household word throughout the republic. They
had been long in the country. They were literally one of the first
families, for in 1636, only sixteen years after the Pilgrims landed on
Plymouth rock, and the same year that Harvard College was founded,
Edward Garfield, who had come from the edge of Wales, settled in
Watertown, Massachusetts, less than four miles from the infant college,
and there for more than a century was the family home, as several
moss-grown headstones in the ancient graveyard still testify.

They did their part in the Revolutionary war, and it was not till the
war was over that Solomon Garfield, the great grandfather of the future
President, removed to the town of Worcester, Otsego County, N.Y. Here
lived the Garfields for two generations. Then Abram Garfield, the father
of James, moved to Northeastern Ohio, and bought a tract of eighty
acres, on which stood the log-cabin, built by himself, in which our
story opens. His wife belonged to a distinguished family of New
England--the Ballous--and possessed the strong traits of her kindred.

But the little farm of eighty acres was smaller now. Abram Garfield died
in debt, and his wife sold off fifty acres to pay his creditors, leaving
thirty, which with her own industry and that of her oldest son served to
maintain her little family.

The school-house was so far away that Mrs. Garfield, who appreciated the
importance of education for her children, offered her neighbors a site
for a new school-house on her own land, and one was built. Here winter
after winter came teachers, some of limited qualifications, to instruct
the children of the neighborhood, and here Jimmy enlarged his stock of
book-learning by slow degrees.

The years passed, and still they lived in the humble log-cabin, till at
the age of twenty-one Thomas came home from Michigan, where he had been
engaged in clearing land for a farmer, bringing seventy-five dollars in
gold.

"Now, mother," he said, "you shall have a framed house."

Seventy-five dollars would not pay for a framed house, but he cut timber
himself, got out the boards, and added his own labor, and that of Jimmy,
now fourteen years old, and so the house was built, and the log-cabin
became a thing of the past. But it had been their home for a long time,
and doubtless many happy days had been spent beneath its humble roof.

While the house was being built, Jimmy learned one thing--that he was
handy with tools, and was well fitted to become a carpenter. When the
joiner told him that he was born to be a carpenter, he thought with joy
that this unexpected talent would enable him to help his mother, and
earn something toward the family expenses. So, for the next two years
he worked at this new business when opportunity offered, and if my
reader should go to Chagrin Falls, Ohio, he could probably find upon
inquiry several barns in the vicinity which Jimmy helped to build.

He still went to school, however, and obtained such knowledge of the
mysteries of grammar, arithmetic, and geography as could be obtained in
the common schools of that day.

But Jimmy Garfield was not born to be a carpenter, and I believe never
got so far along as to assist in building a house.

He was employed to build a wood-shed for a black-salter, ten miles away
from his mother's house, and when the job was finished his employer fell
into conversation with him, and being a man of limited acquirements
himself, was impressed by the boy's surprising stock of knowledge.

"You kin read, you kin write, and you are death on figgers," he said to
him one day. "If you'll stay with me, keep my 'counts, and 'tend to the
saltery, I'll find you, and give you fourteen dollars a month."

Jimmy was dazzled by this brilliant offer. He felt that to accept it
would be to enter upon the high-road to riches, and he resolved to do
so if his mother would consent. Ten miles he trudged through the woods
to ask his mother's consent, which with some difficulty he obtained, for
she did not know to what influences he might be subjected, and so he got
started in a new business.

Whether he would have fulfilled his employer's prediction, and some day
been at the head of a saltery of his own, we can not tell; but in time
he became dissatisfied with his situation, and returning home, waited
for Providence to indicate some new path on which to enter.

One thing, however, was certain: he would not be content to remain long
without employment. He had an active temperament, and would have been
happiest when busy, even if he had not known that his mother needed the
fruits of his labor.

He had one source of enjoyment while employed by the black-salter, which
he fully appreciated. Strange to say, his employer had a library, that
is, he had a small collection of books, gathered by his daughter,
prominent among which were Marryatt's novels, and "Sinbad the Sailor."
They opened a new world to his young accountant, and gave him an
intense desire to see the world, and especially to cross the great sea,
even in the capacity of a sailor. At home there was no library, not from
the lack of literary taste, but because there was no money to spend for
anything but necessaries.

He had not been long at home when a neighbor, entering one day, said,
"James, do you want a job?"

"Yes," answered James, eagerly.

"There's a farmer in Newburg wants some wood chopped."

"I can do it," said James, quietly.

"Then you'd better go and see him."

Newburg is within the present limits of Cleveland, and thither James
betook himself the next day.

He was a stout boy, with the broad shoulders and sturdy frame of his
former ancestors, and he was sure he could give satisfaction.

The farmer, dressed in homespun, looked up as the boy approached.

"Are you Mr. ----?" asked James.

"Yes."

"I heard that you wanted some wood chopped."

"Yes, but I am not sure if you can do it," answered the farmer,
surveying the boy critically.

"I can do it," said James, confidently.

"Very well, you can try. I'll give you seven dollars for the job."

The price was probably satisfactory, for James engaged to do the work.
There proved to be twenty-five cords, and no one, I think, will consider
that he was overpaid for his labor.

He was fortunate, at least, in the scene of his labor, for it was on the
shore of Lake Erie, and as he lifted his eyes from his work they rested
on the broad bosom of the beautiful lake, almost broad enough as it
appeared to be the ocean itself, which he had a strange desire to
traverse in search of the unknown lands of which he had read or dreamed.

I suppose there are few boys who have not at some time fancied that they
should like "a life on the ocean wave, and a home on the rolling deep."
I have in mind a friend, now a physician, who at the age of fifteen left
a luxurious home, with the reluctant permission of his parents, for a
voyage before the mast to Liverpool, beguiled by one of the fascinating
narratives of Herman Melville. But the romance very soon wore off, and
by the time the boy reached Halifax, where the ship put in, he was so
seasick, and so sick of the sea, that he begged to be left on shore to
return home as he might. The captain had received secret instructions
from the parents to accede to such a wish, and the boy was landed, and
in due time returned home as a passenger. So it is said that George
Washington had an early passion for the sea, and would have become a
sailor but for the pain he knew it would give his mother.

James kept his longings to himself for the present, and returned home
with the seven dollars he had so hardly earned.

There was more work for him to do. A Mr. Treat wanted help during the
haying and harvesting season, and offered employment to the boy, who was
already strong enough to do almost as much as a man; for James already
had a good reputation as a faithful worker. "Whatever his hands found to
do, he did it with his might," and he was by no means fastidious as to
the kind of work, provided it was honest and honorable.

When the harvest work was over James made known his passion for the
sea.

Going to his mother, he said: "Mother, I want above all things to go to
sea."

"Go to sea!" replied his mother in dismay. "What has put such an idea
into your head?"

"It has been in my head for a long time," answered the boy quietly. "I
have thought of nothing else for the last year."




CHAPTER III.

IN QUEST OF FORTUNE.


James had so persuaded himself that the sea was his vocation, and was so
convinced of the pleasures and advantages it would bring, that it had
not occurred to him that his mother would object.

"What made you think of the sea, James?" his mother asked with a
troubled face.

"It was the books I read last year, at the black salter's. Oh, mother,
did you ever read Marryatt's novels, and 'Sinbad the Sailor'?"

"I have read 'Sinbad the Sailor,' but you know that is a fairy story, my
son."

"It may be, but Marryatt's stories are not. It must be splendid to
travel across the mighty ocean, and see foreign countries."

"A sailor doesn't have the chance to see much. You have no idea of the
hardships of his life."

"I am used to hardships, and I am not afraid of hard work. But you seem
disappointed, mother. What have you thought of for me?"

"I have hoped, James, that you might become a learned man, perhaps a
college professor. Surely that would be better than to be a common
sailor."

"But I wouldn't stay a common sailor, mother. I would be a captain some
time."

I suppose there is no doubt that, had James followed the sea, he would
have risen to the command of a ship, but the idea did not seem to dazzle
his mother.

"If you go to sea I shall lose you," said his mother. "A sailor can
spend very little time with his family. Think carefully, my son. I
believe your present fancy will be short-lived, and you will some day
wonder that you ever entertained it."

Such, however, was not the boy's idea at the time. His mother might have
reason on her side, but it takes more than reason to dissipate a boy's
passion for the sea.

"You speak of my becoming a scholar, mother," he said, "but there
doesn't seem much chance of it. I see nothing but work as a carpenter,
or on the farm."

"You don't know what God may have in store for you, my son. As you say,
there seems no way open at present for you to become a scholar; but if
you entertain the desire the way will be open. Success comes to him who
is in earnest."

"What, then, do you want me to do, mother! Do you wish me to stay at
home?"

"No, for there seems little for you to do here. Go to Cleveland, if you
like, and seek some respectable employment. If, after a time, you find
your longing for the sea unconquered, it will be time to look out for a
berth on board ship."

James, in spite of his earnest longing to go to sea, was a reasonable
boy, and he did not object to his mother's plan. The next morning he
tied his slender stock of clothing in a small bundle, bade a tearful
good-bye to his mother, whose loving glances followed him far along his
road, and with hope and enthusiasm trudged over a hard road to
Cleveland, that beautiful city, whither, nearly forty years afterward,
he was to be carried in funereal state, amid the tears of countless
thousands. In that city where his active life began, it was to finish.

A long walk was before him, for Cleveland was seventeen miles away. He
stopped to rest at intervals, and it was not until the sun had set and
darkness enveloped the town that he entered it with weary feet.

He betook himself to a cheap boarding-place whither he had been
directed, and soon retired to bed. His fatigue brought him a good
night's sleep, and he woke refreshed and cheered to look about him and
decide upon his future plans.

Cleveland does not compare in size with New York, Philadelphia, or
Boston, and thirty-five years ago it was much smaller than now. But
compared with James' native place, and the villages near him, it was an
impressive place. There were large business blocks, and handsome
churches, and paved streets, and a general city-like appearance which
interested James greatly. On the whole, even if he had to give up going
to sea, he thought he might enjoy himself in such a lively place as
this. But of course he must find employment.

So he went into a store and inquired if they wanted a boy.

"What can you do?" asked the storekeeper, looking at the boy with his
countrified air and rustic suit.

"I can read, write, and cipher," answered James.

"Indeed!" said the storekeeper smiling. "All our boys can do that. Is
that all you can do?"

James might have answered that he could chop wood, work at carpentering,
plant and harvest, but he knew very well that these accomplishments
would be but little service to him here. Indeed, he was rather puzzled
to know what he could do that would earn him a living in a smart town
life Cleveland. However, he didn't much expect to find his first
application successful, so he entered another store and preferred his
request.

"You won't suit us," was the brusque reply. "You come from the country,
don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"You look like it. Well, I will give you a piece of advice."

"What is that, sir?"

"Go back there. You are better suited to country than the city. I
daresay you would make a very good hand on a farm. We need different
sort of boys here."

This was discouraging. James didn't know why he would not do for a city
store or office. He was strong enough, and he thought he knew enough,
for he had not at present much idea of what was taught at seminaries of
a higher grade than the district schools he had been accustomed to
attend.

"Well," he said to himself, "I've done what mother asked me to do. I've
tried to get a place here, and there doesn't seem to be a place for me.
After all, I don't know but I'd better go to Ohio."

Cleveland was not of course a sea-port, but it had considerable lake
trade, and had a line of piers.

James found his way to the wharves, and his eye lighted up as he saw the
sloops and schooners which were engaged in inland trade. He had never
seen a real ship, or those schooners and sloops would have had less
attraction for him.

In particular his attention was drawn to one schooner, not over-clean or
attractive, but with a sea-faring look, as if it had been storm-tossed
and buffeted. Half a dozen sailors were on board, but they were grimed
and dirty, and looked like habitual drinkers--probably James would not
have fancied becoming like one of these, but he gave little thought to
their appearance. He only thought how delightful it would be to have
such a floating home.

"Is the captain on board?" the boy ventured to ask.

"He's down below," growled the sailor whom he addressed.

"Will he soon come up?"

He was answered in the affirmative.

So James lingered until the man he inquired for came up.

He was a brutal-looking man, as common in appearance as any of the
sailors whom he commanded, and the boy was amazed at his bearing. Surely
that man was not his ideal of a ship-captain. He thought of him as a
sort of prince, but there was nothing princely about the miserable,
bloated wretch before him.

Still he preferred his application.

"Do you want a new hand?" asked James.

His answer was a volley of oaths and curses that made James turn pale,
for he had never uttered an oath in his life, and had never listened to
anything so disgusting as the tirade to which he was forced to listen.

[Illustration: THE CANAL BOY]

He sensibly concluded that nothing was to be gained by continuing the
conversation with such a man. He left the schooner's deck with a feeling
of discomfiture. He had never suspected that sailors talked or acted
like the men he saw.

Still he clung to the idea that all sailors were not like this captain.
Perhaps again the rebuff he received was in consequence of his rustic
appearance. The captain might be prejudiced against him, just as the
shop-keepers had been, though the latter certainly had not expressed
themselves in such rude and profane language. He might not be fit for a
sailor yet, but he could prepare himself.

He bethought himself of a cousin of his, by name Amos Letcher, who had
not indeed arrived at the exalted position of captain of a schooner, but
was content with the humbler position of captain of a canal-boat on the
Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal.

This seemed to James a lucky thought.

"I will go to Amos Letcher," he said to himself. "Perhaps he can find me
a situation on a canal-boat, and that will be the next thing to being on
board a ship."

This thought put fresh courage into the boy, and he straightway
inquired for the _Evening Star_, which was the name of the boat
commanded by his cousin.




CHAPTER IV.

ON THE TOW-PATH.


Captain Letcher regarded his young cousin in surprise.

"Well, Jimmy, what brings you to Cleveland?" he asked.

"I came here to ship on the lake," the boy answered. "I tried first to
get a place in a store, as I promised mother, but I found no opening. I
would rather be a sailor."

"I am afraid your choice is not a good one; a good place on land is much
better than going to sea. Have you tried to get a berth?"

"Yes, I applied to the captain of a schooner, but he swore at me and
called me a land-lubber."

"So you are," returned his cousin smiling "Well, what are your plans
now?"

"Can't you give me a place?"

"What, on the canal?"

"Yes cousin."

"I suppose you think that would be the next thing to going to sea?"

"It might prepare me for it."

"Well," said Captain Letcher, good-naturedly, "I will see what I can do
for you. Can you drive a pair of horses?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then I will engage you. The pay is not very large, but you will live on
the boat."

"How much do you pay?" asked James, who was naturally interested in the
answer to this question.

"We pay from eight to ten dollars a month, according to length of
service and fidelity. Of course, as a new hand, you can not expect ten
dollars."

"I shall be satisfied with eight, cousin."

"Now, as to your duties. You will work six hours on and six hours off.
That's what we call a trick--the six hours on, I mean. So you will have
every other six hours to rest, or do anything you like; that is, after
you have attended to the horses."

"Horses!" repeated James, puzzled; for the animals attached to the boat
at that moment were mules.

"Some of our horses are mules," said Captain Letcher, smiling.
"However, it makes no difference. You will have to feed and rub them
down, and then you can lie down in your bunk, or do anything else you
like."

"That won't be very hard work," said James, cheerfully.

"Oh, I forgot to say that you can ride or walk, as you choose. You can
rest yourself by changing from one to the other."

James thought he should like to ride on horseback, as most boys do. It
was not, however, so good fun as he anticipated. A canal-boat horse is
by no means a fiery or spirited creature. His usual gait is from two to
two and a half miles an hour, and to a boy of quick, active temperament
the slowness must be rather exasperating. Yet, in the course of a day a
boat went a considerable distance. It usually made fifty, and sometimes
sixty miles a day. The rate depended on the number of locks it had to
pass through.

Probably most of my young readers understand the nature of a lock. As
all water seeks a level, there would be danger in an uneven country that
some parts of the canal would be left entirely dry, and in others the
water would overflow. For this reason at intervals locks are
constructed, composed of brief sections of the canal barricaded at each
end by gates. When a boat is going down, the near gates are thrown open
and the boat enters the lock, the water rushing in till a level is
secured; then the upper gates are closed, fastening the boat in the
lock. Next the lower gates are opened, the water in the lock seeks the
lower level of the other section of the canal, and the boat moves out of
the lock, the water subsiding gradually beneath it. Next, the lower
gates are closed, and the boat proceeds on its way. It will easily be
understood, when the case is reversed, and the boat is going up, how
after being admitted into the lock it will be lifted up to the higher
level when the upper gates are thrown open.

If any of my young readers find it difficult to understand my
explanation, I advise them to read Jacob Abbot's excellent book, "Rollo
on the Erie Canal," where the whole matter is lucidly explained.

Railroads were not at that time as common as now, and the canal was of
much more importance and value as a means of conveying freight.
Sometimes passengers traveled that way, when they were in not much of a
hurry, but there were no express canal-boats, and a man who chose to
travel in that way must have abundant leisure on his hands. There is
some difference between traveling from two to two and a half miles an
hour, and between thirty and forty, as most of our railroad express
trains do.

James did not have to wait long after his engagement before he was put
on duty. With boyish pride he mounted one of the mules and led the
other. A line connected the mules with the boat, which was drawn slowly
and steadily through the water. James felt the responsibility of his
situation. It was like going to sea on a small scale, though the sea was
but a canal. At all events, he felt that he had more important work to
do than if he were employed as a boy on one of the lake schooners.

James was at this time fifteen; a strong, sturdy boy, with a mass of
auburn hair, partly covered by a loose-fitting hat. He had a bright,
intelligent face, and an earnest look that attracted general attention.
Yet, to one who saw the boy guiding the patient mule along the
tow-path, it would have seemed a most improbable prediction, that one
day the same hand would guide the ship of State, a vessel of much more
consequence than the humble canal-boat.

There was one comfort, at any rate. Though in his rustic garb he was not
well enough dressed to act as clerk in a Cleveland store, no one
complained that he was not well enough attired for a canal-boy.

It will occur to my young reader that, though the work was rather
monotonous, there was not much difficulty or danger connected with it.
But even the guidance of a canal-boat has its perplexities, and James
was not long in his new position before he realized it.

It often happened that a canal-boat going up encountered another going
down, and _vice versa_. Then care has to be exercised by the respective
drivers lest their lines get entangled.

All had been going on smoothly till James saw another boat coming. It
might have been his inexperience, or it might have been the carelessness
of the other driver, but at any rate the lines got entangled. Meanwhile
the boat, under the impetus that had been given it, kept on its way
until it was even with the horses, and seemed likely to tow them along.

"Whip up your team, Jim, or your line will ketch on the bridge!" called
out the steersman.

The bridge was built over a waste-way which occurred just ahead, and it
was necessary for James to drive over it.

The caution was heeded, but too late. James whipped up his mules, but
when he had reached the middle of the bridge the rope tightened, and
before the young driver fairly understood what awaited him, he and his
team were jerked into the canal. Of course he was thrown off the animal
he was riding, and found himself struggling in the water side by side
with the astonished mules. The situation was a ludicrous one, but it was
also attended with some danger. Even if he did not drown, and the canal
was probably deep enough for that, he stood in some danger of being
kicked by the terrified mules.

The boy, however, preserved his presence of mind, and managed, with
help, to get out himself and to get his team out.

Then Captain Letcher asked him, jocosely, "What were you doing in the
canal, Jim?"

"I was just taking my morning bath," answered the boy, in the same
vein.

"You'll do," said the captain, struck by the boy's coolness.

Six hours passed, and James' "trick" was over. He and his mules were
both relieved from duty. Both were allowed to come on board the boat and
rest for a like period, while the other driver took his place on the
tow-path.

"Well, Jim, how do you like it as far as you've got?" asked the captain.

"I like it," answered the boy.

"Shall you be ready to take another bath to-morrow morning?" asked his
cousin, slyly.

"I think one bath a week will be sufficient," was the answer.

Feeling a natural interest in his young cousin, Amos Letcher thought he
would examine him a little, to see how far his education had advanced.
Respecting his own ability as an examiner he had little doubt, for he
had filled the proud position of teacher in Steuben County, Indiana, for
three successive winters.

"I suppose you have been to school more or less, Jim?" he said.

"Oh, yes," answered the boy.

"What have you studied?"

James enumerated the ordinary school branches. They were not many, for
his acquirements were not extensive; but he had worked well, and was
pretty well grounded as far as he had gone.




CHAPTER V.

AN IMPORTANT CONVERSATION.


"I've taught school myself," said Captain Letcher, complacently. "I
taught for three winters in Indiana."

James, who, even then, had a high opinion of learning, regarded the
canal-boat captain with increased respect.

"I didn't know that," he answered, duly impressed.

"Yes, I've had experience as a teacher. Now, if you don't mind, I'll ask
you a few questions, and find out how much you know. We've got plenty of
time, for it's a long way to Pancake Lock."

[Illustration: CONFERENCE WITH DR. ROBINSON]

"Don't ask me too hard questions," said the boy. "I'll answer the best I
know."

Upon this Captain Letcher, taking a little time to think, began to
question his young cousin in the different branches he had enumerated.
The questions were not very hard, for the good captain, though he had
taught school in Indiana, was not a profound scholar.

James answered every question promptly and accurately, to the increasing
surprise of his employer.

The latter paused.

"Haven't you any more questions?" asked James.

"No, I don't think of any."

"Then may I ask you some?"

"Yes, if you want to," answered the captain, rather surprised.

"Very well," said James. "A man went to a shoemaker and bought a pair of
boots, for which he was to pay five dollars. He offered a fifty-dollar
bill, which the shoemaker sent out and had changed. He paid his customer
forty-five dollars in change, and the latter walked off with the boots.
An hour later he ascertained that the bill was a counterfeit, and he was
obliged to pay back fifty dollars in good money to the man who had
changed the bill for him. Now, how much did he lose?"

"That's easy enough. He lost fifty dollars and the boots."

"I don't think that's quite right," said James, smiling.

"Of course it is. Didn't he have to pay back fifty dollars in good
money, and didn't the man walk off with the boots?"

"That's true; but he neither lost nor made by changing the bill. He
received fifty dollars in good money and paid back the same, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Whatever he lost his customer made, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Well, the man walked off with forty-five dollars and a pair of boots.
The other five dollars the shoemaker kept himself."

"That's so, Jim. I see it now, but it's rather puzzling at first. Did
you make that out yourself?"

"Yes."

"Then you've got a good head--better than I expected. Have you got any
more questions?"

"Just a few."

So the boy continued to ask questions, and the captain was more than
once obliged to confess that he could not answer. He began to form a
new opinion of his young cousin, who, though he filled the humble
position of a canal-boy, appeared to be well equipped with knowledge.

"I guess that'll do, Jim," he said after a while. "You've got ahead of
me, though I didn't expect it. A boy with such a head as you've got
ought not to be on the tow-path."

"What ought I to be doing, cousin?"

"You ought to keep school. You're better qualified than I am to-day, and
yet I taught for three winters in Indiana."

James was pleased with this tribute to his acquirements, especially from
a former schoolmaster.

"I never thought of that," he said. "I'm too young to keep school. I'm
only fifteen."

"That is rather young. You know enough; but I aint sure that you could
tackle some of the big boys that would be coming to school. You know
enough, but you need more muscle. I'll tell you what I advise. Stay with
me this summer--it won't do you any hurt, and you'll be earning
something--then go to school a term or two, and by that time you'll be
qualified to teach a district school."

"I'll think of what you say, cousin," said James, thoughtfully. "I
don't know but your advice is good."

It is not always easy to say what circumstances have most influence in
shaping the destiny of a boy, but it seems probable that the
conversation which has just been detailed, and the discovery that he was
quite equal in knowledge to a man who had been a schoolmaster, may have
put new ideas into the boy's head, destined to bear fruit later.

For the present, however, his duties as a canal-boy must be attended to,
and they were soon to be resumed.

About ten o'clock that night, when James was on duty, the boat
approached the town of Akron, where there were twenty-one locks to be
successively passed through.

The night was dark, and, though the bowman of the _Evening Star_ did not
see it, another boat had reached the same lock from the opposite
direction. Now in such cases the old rule, "first come, first served,"
properly prevailed.

The bowman had directed the gates to be thrown open, in order that the
boat might enter the lock, when a voice was heard through the darkness,
"Hold on, there! Our boat is just round the bend, ready to enter."

"We have as much right as you," said the bowman.

As he spoke he commenced turning the gate.

My young reader will understand from the description already given that
it will not do to have both lower and upper gates open at the same time.
Of course, one or the other boat must wait.

Both bowmen were determined to be first, and neither was willing to
yield. Both boats were near the lock, their head-lights shining as
bright as day, and the spirit of antagonism reached and affected the
crews of both.

Captain Letcher felt called upon to interfere lest there should be
serious trouble.

He beckoned to his bowman.

"Were you here first?" he asked.

"It is hard to tell," answered the bowman, "but I'm bound to have the
lock, anyhow."

The captain was not wholly unaffected by the spirit of antagonism which
his bowman displayed.

"All right; just as you say," he answered, and it seemed likely that
conflict was inevitable.

James Garfield had been an attentive observer, and an attentive
listener to what had been said. He had formed his own ideas of what was
right to be done.

"Look here, captain," he said, tapping Captain Letcher on the arm, "does
this lock belong to us?"

"I really suppose, according to law, it does not; but we will have it,
anyhow."

"No, we will not," replied the boy.

"And why not?" asked the captain, naturally surprised at such a speech
from his young driver.

"Because it does not belong to us."

The captain was privately of opinion that the boy was right, yet but for
his remonstrance he would have stood out against the claims of the rival
boat. He took but brief time for considerations, and announced his
decision.

"Boys," he said to his men, "Jim is right. Let them have the lock."

Of course there was no more trouble, but the bowman, and the others
connected with the _Evening Star_, were angry. It irritated them to be
obliged to give up the point, and wait humbly till the other boat had
passed through the lock.

The steersman was George Lee. When breakfast was called, he sat down by
James.

"What is the matter with you, Jim?" he asked.

"Nothing at all."

"What made you so for giving up the lock last night?"

"Because it wasn't ours. The other boat had it by right."

"Jim, you are a coward," said Lee contemptuously. "You aint fit for a
boatman. You'd better go back to the farm and chop wood or milk cows,
for a man or boy isn't fit for this business that isn't ready to fight
for his rights."

James did not answer. Probably he saw that it would be of no use. George
Lee was for his own boat, right or wrong; but James had already begun to
reflect upon the immutable principles of right or wrong, and he did not
suffer his reason to be influenced by any considerations touching his
own interests or his own pride.

As to the charge of cowardice it did not trouble him much. On a suitable
occasion later on (we shall tell the story in due season) he showed that
he was willing to contend for his rights, when he was satisfied that the
right was on his side.




CHAPTER VI.

JAMES LEAVES THE CANAL.


James was not long to fill the humble position of driver. Before the
close of the first trip he was promoted to the more responsible office
of bowman. Whether his wages were increased we are not informed.

It may be well in this place to mention that a canal boat required,
besides the captain, two drivers, two steersmen, a bowman, and a cook,
the last perhaps not the least important of the seven. "The bowman's
business was to stop the boat as it entered the lock, by throwing the
bowline that was attached to the bow of the boat around the snubbing
post." It was to this position that James was promoted, though I have
some doubt whether the place of driver, with the opportunities it
afforded of riding on horse or mule-back, did not suit him better.
Still, promotion is always pleasant, and in this case it showed that
the boy had discharged his humbler duties satisfactorily.

I have said that the time came when James showed that he was not a
coward. Edmund Kirke, in his admirable life of Garfield, has condensed
the captain's account of the occurrence, and I quote it here as likely
to prove interesting to my boy readers:

"The _Evening Star_ was at Beaver, and a steamboat was ready to tow her
up to Pittsburg. The boy was standing on deck with the selting-pole
against his shoulders, and some feet away stood Murphy, one of the boat
hands, a big, burly fellow of thirty-five, when the steamboat threw the
line, and, owing to a sudden lurch of the boat, it whirled over the
boy's head, and flew in the direction of the boatman. 'Look out,
Murphy!' cried the boy; but the rope had anticipated him, and knocked
Murphy's hat off into the river. The boy expressed his regret, but it
was of no avail. In a towering rage the man rushed upon him, with his
head down, like a maddened animal; but, stepping nimbly aside, the boy
dealt him a powerful blow behind the ear, and he tumbled to the bottom
of the boat among the copper ore. Before he could rise the boy was upon
him, one hand upon his throat, the other raised for another blow upon
his frontispiece.

"'Pound the cussed fool, Jim!' cried Captain Letcher, who was looking on
appreciatingly. 'If he haint no more sense'n to get mad at accidents,
giv it ter him! Why don't you strike?'

"But the boy did not strike, for the man was down and in his power.
Murphy expressed regret for his rage, and then Garfield gave him his
hand, and they became better friends than ever before. This victory of a
boy of sixteen over a man of thirty-five obliterated the notion of young
Garfield's character for cowardice, and gave him a great reputation
among his associates. The incident is still well remembered among the
boatmen of the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal."

The boy's speedy reconciliation to the man who had made so unprovoked an
assault upon him was characteristic of his nature. He never could
cherish malice, and it was very hard work for him to remain angry with
any one, however great the provocation.

Both as a boy and as a man he possessed great physical strength, as may
be inferred from an incident told by the Boston _Journal_ of his life
when he was no longer the humble canal-boy, but a brigadier-general in
the army:

"At Pittsburg Landing one night in 1862 there was a rush for rations by
some newly-arrived troops. One strong, fine-looking soldier presented a
requisition for a barrel of flour, _and, shouldering it, walked off with
ease_. When the wagon was loaded, this same man stepped up to Colonel
Morton, commanding the commissary steamers there, and remarked, 'I
suppose you require a receipt for these supplies?' 'Yes,' said the
Colonel, as he handed over the usual blank; 'just take this provision
return, and have it signed by your commanding officer.' 'Can't I sign
it?' was the reply. 'Oh, no,' said the affable Colonel Morton; 'it
requires the signature of a commissioned officer.' Then came the remark,
that still remains fresh in the Colonel's memory: 'I am a commissioned
officer--I'm a brigadier-general, and my name is Garfield, of Ohio.'"

For four months James remained connected with the canal-boat. To show
that traveling by canal is not so free from danger as it is supposed to
be, it may be stated that in this short time he fell into the water
fourteen times. Usually he scrambled out without further harm than a
good wetting. One night, however, he was in serious pain.

It was midnight, and rainy, when he was called up to take his turn at
the bow. The boat was leaving one of those long reaches of slack-water
which abound in the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal. He tumbled out of bed
in a hurry, but half awake, and, taking his stand on the narrow platform
below the bow-deck, he began uncoiling a rope to steady the boat through
a lock it was approaching. Finally it knotted, and caught in a narrow
cleft on the edge of the deck. He gave it a strong pull, then another,
till it gave way, sending him over the bow into the water. Down he went
in the dark river, and, rising, was bewildered amid the intense
darkness. It seemed as if the boy's brief career was at its close. But
he was saved as by a miracle. Reaching out his hand in the darkness, it
came in contact with the rope. Holding firmly to it as it tightened in
his grasp, he used his strong arms to draw himself up hand over hand.
His deliverance was due to a knot in the rope catching in a crevice,
thus, as it tightened, sustaining him and enabling him to climb on
deck.

It was a narrow escape, and he felt it to be so. He was a thoughtful
boy, and it impressed him. The chances had been strongly against him,
yet he had been saved.

"God did it," thought James reverently, "He has saved my life against
large odds, and He must have saved it for some purpose. He has some work
for me to do."

Few boys at his age would have taken the matter so seriously, yet in the
light of after events shall we not say that James was right, and that
God did have some work for him to perform?

This work, the boy decided, was not likely to be the one he was at
present engaged in. The work of a driver or a bowman on a canal is
doubtless useful in its way, but James doubted whether he would be
providentially set apart for any such business.

It might have been this deliverance that turned his attention to
religious matters. At any rate, hearing that at Bedford there was a
series of protracted meetings conducted by the Disciples, as they were
called, he made a trip there, and became seriously impressed. There,
too, he met a gentleman who was destined to exert an important influence
over his destiny.

This gentleman was Dr. J.P. Robinson, who may be still living. Dr.
Robinson took a great liking to the boy, and sought to be of service to
him. He employed him, though it may have been at a later period, to chop
wood, and take care of his garden, and do chores about the house, and
years afterward, as we shall see, it was he that enabled James to enter
Williams College, and pursue his studies there until he graduated, and
was ready to do the work of an educated man in the world. But we must
not anticipate.

Though James was strong and healthy he was not proof against the disease
that lurked in the low lands bordering on the canal. He was attacked by
fever and ague, and lay for some months sick at home. It was probably
the only long sickness he had till the fatal wound which laid him on his
bed when in the fullness of his fame he had taken his place among kings
and rulers. It is needless to say that he had every attention that a
tender mother could bestow, and in time he was restored to health.

During his sickness he had many talks with his mother upon his future
prospects, and the course of life upon which it was best for him to
enter. He had not yet given up all thoughts of the sea, he had not
forgotten the charms with which a sailor's life is invested in
Marryatt's fascinating novels. His mother listened anxiously to his
dreams of happiness on the sea, and strove to fix his mind upon higher
things--to inspire him with a nobler ambition.

"What would you have me do, mother?" he asked.

"If you go back to the canal, my son, with the seeds of this disease
lurking in your system, I fear you will be taken down again. I have
thought it over. It seems to me you had better go to school this spring,
and then, with a term in the fall, you may be able to teach in the
winter. If you teach winters, and work on the canal or lake summers, you
will have employment the year round."

Nevertheless Mrs. Garfield was probably not in favor of his spending his
summers in the way indicated. She felt, however, that her son, who was a
boy like other boys, must be gradually weaned from the dreams that had
bewitched his fancy.

Then his mother proposed a practical plan.

"You have been obliged to spend all your money," she said, "but your
brother Thomas and I will be able to raise seventeen dollars for you to
start to school on, and when that is gone perhaps you will be able to
get along on your own resources."




CHAPTER VII.

THE CHOICE OF A VOCATION


James Garfield's experience on the canal was over. The position was such
an humble one that it did not seem likely to be of any service in the
larger career which one day was to open before him. But years afterward,
when as a brigadier-general of volunteers he made an expedition into
Eastern Kentucky, he realized advantage from his four months' experience
on the canal. His command had run short of provisions, and a boat had
been sent for supplies, but the river beside which the men were encamped
had risen so high that the boat dared not attempt to go up the river.
Then General Garfield, calling to his aid the skill with which he had
guided the _Evening Star_ at the age of fifteen, took command of the
craft, stood at the wheel forty-four hours out of the forty-eight, and
brought the supplies to his men at a time when they were eating their
last crackers.

"Seek all knowledge, however trifling," says an eminent author, "and
there will come a time when you can make use of it."

James may never have read this remark, but he was continually acting
upon it, and the spare moments which others devoted to recreation he
used in adding to his stock of general knowledge.

The last chapter closes with Mrs. Garfield's advice to James to give up
his plan of going to sea, and to commence and carry forward a course of
education which should qualify him for a college professor, or a
professional career. Her words made some impression upon his mind, but
it is not always easy to displace cherished dreams. While she was
talking, a knock was heard at the door and Mrs. Garfield, leaving her
place at her son's bedside, rose and opened it.

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Bates," she said with a welcoming smile.

Samuel D. Bates was the teacher of the school near by, an earnest young
man, of exemplary habits, who was looking to the ministry as his chosen
vocation.

"And how is James to-day?" asked the teacher, glancing toward the bed.

"So well that he is already beginning to make plans for the future,"
answered his mother.

"What are your plans, James?" asked the young man.

"I should like best to go to sea," said James, "but mother doesn't
approve of it."

"She is wise," said Bates, promptly. "You would find it a great
disappointment."

"But, it must be delightful to skim over the waters, and visit countries
far away," said the boy, his cheeks flushing, and his eyes glowing with
enthusiasm.

"You think so now; but remember, you would be a poor, ignorant sailor,
and would have to stay by the ship instead of exploring the wonderful
cities at which the ship touched. Of course, you would have an
occasional run on shore, but you could not shake off the degrading
associations with which your life on shipboard would surround you."

"Why should a sailor's life be degrading?" asked James.

"It need not be necessarily, but as a matter of fact most sailors have
low aims and are addicted to bad habits. Better wait till you can go to
sea as a passenger, and enjoy to the full the benefits of foreign
travel."

"There is something in that," said James, thoughtfully. "If I could only
be sure of going some day."

"Wouldn't it be pleasant to go as a man of culture, as a college
professor, as a minister, or as a lawyer, able to meet on equal terms
foreign scholars and gentlemen?"

This was a new way of putting it, and produced a favorable impression on
the boy's mind. Still, the boy had doubts, and expressed them freely.

"That sounds well," he said; "but how am I to know that I have brain
enough to make a college professor, or a minister, or a lawyer?"

"I don't think there is much doubt on that point," said Bates, noting
the bright, expressive face, and luminous eyes of the sick boy. "I
should be willing to guarantee your capacity. Don't you think yourself
fit for anything better than a common sailor?"

"Yes," answered James. "I think I could make a good carpenter, for I
know something about that trade already, and I daresay I could make a
good trader if I could find an opening to learn the business; but it
takes a superior man to succeed in the positions you mention."

"There are plenty of men with only average ability who get along very
creditably; but I advise you, if you make up your mind to enter the
lists, to try for a high place."

The boy's eyes sparkled with new ambition. It was a favorite idea with
him afterward, that every man ought to feel an honorable ambition to
succeed as well as possible in his chosen path.

"One thing more," added Bates. "I don't think you have any right to
become a sailor."

"No right? Oh, you mean because mother objects."

"That, certainly, ought to weigh with you as a good son; but I referred
to something else."

"What then?"

"Do you remember the parable of the talents?"

James had been brought up by his mother, who was a devoted religious
woman, to read the Bible, and he answered in the affirmative.

"It seems to me that you are responsible for the talents which God has
bestowed upon you. If you have the ability or the brain, as you call
it, to insure success in a literary career, don't you think you would
throw yourself away if you became a sailor?"

Mrs. Garfield, who had listened with deep interest to the remarks of the
young man, regarded James anxiously, to see what effect these arguments
were having upon him. She did not fear disobedience. She knew that if
she should make it a personal request, James was dutiful enough to
follow her wishes; but she respected the personal independence of her
children, and wanted to convince, rather than to coerce, them.

"If I knew positively that you were right in your estimate of me, Mr.
Bates, I would go in for a course of study."

"Consult some one in whose judgment you have confidence, James," said
the teacher, promptly.

"Can you suggest any one?" asked the boy.

"Yes, Dr. J.P. Robinson, of Bedford, is visiting at the house of
President Hayden, of Hiram College. You have heard of him?"

"Yes."

"He is a man of ripe judgment, and you can rely implicitly on what he
says."

"As soon as I am well enough I will do as you advise," said James.

"Then I am satisfied. I am sure the doctor will confirm my advice."

"Mr. Bates," said Mrs. Garfield, as she followed out the young teacher,
"I am much indebted to you for your advice to James. It is in accordance
with my wishes. If he should decide to obtain an education, where would
you advise him to go?"

"To the seminary where I have obtained all the education I possess,"
answered the young man.

"Where is it?"

"It is called the 'Geauga Seminary,' and is located in Chester, in the
next county. For a time it will be sufficient to meet all James' needs.
When he is further advanced he can go to Hiram College."

"Is it expensive?" asked Mrs. Garfield. "James has no money except the
few dollars his brother and I can spare him."

"He will have plenty of company. Most of the students are poor, but
there are chances of finding work in the neighborhood, and so earning a
little money. James knows something of the carpenter's trade?"

"Yes, he helped build the house we live in, and he has been employed on
several barns."

My readers will remember that the Garfields no longer lived in the
humble log-cabin in which we first found them. The money Thomas brought
home from Michigan, supplemented by the labor of James and himself, had
replaced it by a neat frame house, which was much more comfortable and
sightly.

"That will do. I think I know a man who will give him employment."

"He is a boy of energy. If he gets fairly started at school, I think he
will maintain himself there," said Mrs. Garfield.

The teacher took his leave.

When Mrs. Garfield re-entered the room she found James looking very
thoughtful.

"Mother," he said, abruptly, "I want to get well as quick as I can. I am
sixteen years old, and it is time I decided what to do with myself."

"You will think of what Mr. Bates has said, will you not?"

"Yes, mother; as soon as I am well enough I will call on Dr. Robinson
and ask his candid opinion. I will be guided by what he says."




CHAPTER VIII.

GEAUGA SEMINARY.


I have stated in a previous chapter that James became acquainted with
Dr. Robinson while still employed on the canal. This statement was made
on the authority of Mr. Philo Chamberlain, of Cleveland, who was part
proprietor of the line of canal-boats on which the boy was employed.
Edmund Kirke, however, conveys the impression that James was a stranger
to the doctor at the time he called upon him after his sickness. Mr.
Kirke's information having been derived chiefly from General Garfield
himself, I shall adopt his version, as confirmed by Dr. Robinson.

When James walked up to the residence of President Hayden, and inquired
for Dr. Robinson, he was decidedly homespun in appearance. He probably
was dressed in his best, but his best was shabby enough. His trousers
were of coarse satinet, and might have fitted him a season or two
before, but now were far outgrown, reaching only half-way down from the
tops of his cowhide boots. His waistcoat also was much too short, and
his coat was threadbare, the sleeves being so short as to display a
considerable portion of his arms. Add to these a coarse slouched hat,
much the worse for wear, and a heavy mass of yellow hair much too long,
and we can easily understand what the good doctor said of him: "He was
wonderfully awkward, but had a sort of independent, go-as-you-please
manner that impressed me favorably."

"Who are you?" asked the doctor.

"My name is James Garfield, from Solon."

"Oh, I know your mother, and knew you when you were a babe, but you have
outgrown my knowledge. I am glad to see you."

"I should like to see you alone," said James.

The doctor led the way to a secluded spot in the neighborhood of the
house, and then, sitting down on a log, the youth, after a little
hesitation, opened his business.

"You are a physician," he said, "and know the fiber that is in men.
Examine me and tell me with the utmost frankness whether I had better
take a course of liberal study. I am contemplating doing so, as my
desire is in that direction. But if I am to make a failure of it, or
practically so, I do not desire to begin. If you advise me not to do so
I shall be content."

In speaking of this incident the doctor has remarked recently: "I felt
that I was on my sacred honor, and the young man looked as though he
felt himself on trial. I had had considerable experience as a physician,
but here was a case much different from any I had ever had. I felt that
it must be handled with great care. I examined his head and saw that
there was a magnificent brain there. I sounded his lungs, and found that
they were strong, and capable of making good blood. I felt his pulse,
and felt that there was an engine capable of sending the blood up to the
head to feed the brain. I had seen many strong physical systems with
warm feet and cold, sluggish brain; and those who possessed such systems
would simply sit round and doze. Therefore I was anxious to know about
the kind of an engine to run that delicate machine, the brain. At the
end of a fifteen minutes' careful examination of this kind, we rose, and
I said:

"Go on, follow the leadings of your ambition, and ever after I am your
friend. You have the brain of a Webster, and you have the physical
proportions that will back you in the most herculean efforts. All you
need to do is to work; work hard, do not be afraid of over-working and
you will make your mark."

It will be easily understood that these words from a man whom he held in
high respect were enough to fix the resolution of James. If he were
really so well fitted for the work and the career which his mother
desired him to follow, it was surely his duty to make use of the talents
which he had just discovered were his.

After that there was no more question about going to sea. He
deliberately decided to become a scholar, and then follow where
Providence led the way.

He would have liked a new suit of clothes, but this was out of the
question. All the money he had at command was the seventeen dollars
which his mother had offered him. He must get along with this sum, and
so with hopeful heart he set out for Geauga Seminary.

He did not go alone. On hearing of his determination, two boys, one a
cousin, made up their minds to accompany him.

Possibly my young readers may imagine the scene of leave-taking, as the
stage drove up to the door, and the boys with their trunks or valises
were taken on board, but if so, imagination would picture a scene far
different from the reality. Their outfit was of quite a different kind.

For the sake of economy the boys were to board themselves, and Mrs.
Garfield with provident heart supplied James with a frying-pan, and a
few necessary dishes, so that his body might not suffer while his mind
was being fed. Such was the luxury that awaited James in his new home. I
am afraid that the hearts of many of my young readers would sink within
them if they thought that they must buy an education at such a cost as
that. But let them not forget that this homespun boy, with his poor
array of frying-pan and dishes, was years after to strive in legislative
halls, and win the highest post in the gift of his fellow-citizens. And
none of these things would have been his, in all likelihood, but for his
early struggle with poverty.

So far as I know, neither of his companions was any better off than
James. All three were young adventurers traveling into the domains of
science with hopeful hearts and fresh courage, not altogether ignorant
of the hardships that awaited them, but prepared to work hard for the
prizes of knowledge.

Arrived at Geauga Seminary, they called upon the principal and announced
for what purpose they had come.

"Well, young men, I hope you mean to work?" he said.

"Yes, sir," answered James promptly. "I am poor, and I want to get an
education as quick as I can."

"I like your sentiments, and I will help you as far as I can."

The boys succeeded in hiring a room in an old unpainted building near
the academy for a small weekly sum. It was unfurnished, but they
succeeded in borrowing a few dilapidated chairs from a neighbor who did
not require them, and some straw ticks, which they spread upon the floor
for sleeping purposes. In one corner they stowe their frying-pans,
kettles, and dishes, and then they set up housekeeping in humble style.

The Geauga Seminary was a Freewill Baptist institution, and was attended
by a considerable number of students, to whom it did not, indeed,
furnish what is called "the higher education," but it was a considerable
advance upon any school that James had hitherto attended. English
grammar, natural philosophy, arithmetic, and algebra--these were the
principal studies to which James devoted himself, and they opened to him
new fields of thought. Probably it was at this humble seminary that he
first acquired the thirst for learning that ever afterward characterized
him.

Let us look in upon the three boys a night or two after they have
commenced housekeeping.

They take turns in cooking, and this time it is the turn of the one in
whom we feel the strongest interest.

"What have we got for supper, boys?" he asks, for the procuring of
supplies has fallen to them.

"Here are a dozen eggs," said Henry Bounton, his cousin.

"And here is a loaf of bread, which I got at the baker's," said his
friend.

"That's good! We'll have bread and fried eggs. There is nothing better
than that."

"Eggs have gone up a cent a dozen," remarks Henry, gravely.

This news is received seriously, for a cent means something to them.
Probably even then the price was not greater than six to eight cents a
dozen, for prices were low in the West at that time.

"Then we can't have them so often," said James, philosophically, "unless
we get something to do."

"There's a carpenter's-shop a little way down the street," said Henry.
"I guess you can find employment there."

"I'll go round there after supper."

Meanwhile he attended to his duty as cook, and in due time each of the
boys was supplied with four fried eggs and as much bread as he cared
for. Probably butter was dispensed with, as too costly a luxury, until
more prosperous times.

When supper was over the boys took a walk, and then, returning to their
humble room, spent the evening in preparing their next morning's
lessons.

In them James soon took leading rank, for his brain was larger, and his
powers of application and intuition great, as Dr. Robinson had implied.
From the time he entered Geauga Seminary probably he never seriously
doubted that he had entered upon the right path.




CHAPTER IX.

WAYS AND MEANS.


James called on the carpenter after supper and inquired if he could
supply him with work.

"I may be able to if you are competent," was the reply. "Have you ever
worked at the business?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"At Orange, where my home is."

"How long did you work at it?"

"Perhaps I had better tell you what I have done," said James.

He then gave an account of the barns he had been employed upon, and the
frame house which he had assisted to build for his mother.

"I don't set up for a first-class workman," he added, with a smile, "but
I think I can be of some use to you."

"I will try you, for I am rather pressed with work just now."

So, in a day or two James was set to work.

The carpenter found that it was as he had represented. He was not a
first-class workman. Indeed, he had only a rudimentary knowledge of the
trade, but he was quick to learn, and in a short time he was able to
help in many ways. His wages were not very large, but they were
satisfactory, since they enabled him to pay his expenses and keep his
head above water. Before the seventeen dollars were exhausted, he had
earned quite a sum by his labor in the carpenter's-shop.

About this time he received a letter from his brother.

"Dear James," he wrote, "I shall be glad to hear how you are getting
along. You took so little money with you that you may need more. If so,
let me know, and I will try to send you some."

James answered promptly: "Don't feel anxious about me, Thomas. I have
been fortunate enough to secure work at a carpenter's-shop, and my
expenses of living are very small. I intend not to call upon you or
mother again, but to pay my own way, if I keep my health."

He kept his word, and from that time did not find it necessary to call
either upon his mother or his good brother, who was prepared to make
personal sacrifices, as he had been doing all his life, that his younger
brother might enjoy advantages which he had to do without.

At length the summer vacation came. James had worked hard and won high
rank in his respective studies. He had a robust frame, and he seemed
never to get tired. No doubt he took especial interest in composition
and the exercises of the debating society which flourished at Geauga, as
at most seminaries of advanced education. In after-life he was so ready
and powerful in debate, that we can readily understand that he must have
begun early to try his powers. Many a trained speaker has first come to
a consciousness of his strength in a lyceum of boys, pitted against some
school-fellow of equal attainments. No doubt many crude and some
ludicrous speeches are made by boys in their teens, but at least they
learn to think on their feet, and acquire the ability to stand the gaze
of an audience without discomposure. A certain easy facility of
expression also is gained, which enables them to acquit themselves
creditably on a more important stage.

James early learned that the best preparation for a good speech is a
thorough familiarity with the subject, and in his after-life he always
carefully prepared himself, so that he was a forcible debater, whom it
was not easy to meet and conquer.

"He once told me how he prepared his speeches," said Representative
Williams, of Wisconsin, since his death. "First he filled himself with
the subject, massing all the facts and principles involved, so far as he
could; then he took pen and paper and wrote down the salient points in
what he regarded their logical order. Then he scanned these critically,
and fixed them in his memory. 'And then,' said he, 'I leave the paper in
my room and trust to the emergency.'"

When the vacation came James began to look about for work. He could not
afford to be idle. Moreover, he hoped to be able to earn enough that he
might not go back empty-handed in the fall.

Generally work comes to him who earnestly seeks it, and James heard of
a man who wanted some wood cut.

He waited upon this man and questioned him about it.

"Yes," he answered, "I want the wood cut. What will you charge to do
it?"

"How much is there?"

"About a hundred cords."

James thought of the time when he cut twenty-five cords for seven
dollars, and he named a price to correspond.

"I'll give you twenty-five dollars," said the proprietor of the wood.

It was a low price for the labor involved, but, on the other hand, it
would be of essential service to the struggling student.

"I will undertake it," he said.

"When will you go to work?"

"Now!" answered James promptly.

How long it took him to do the work we have no record, but he doubtless
worked steadfastly till it was accomplished. We can imagine the
satisfaction he felt when the money was put into his hands, and he felt
that he would not need to be quite so economical in the coming term.

Accordingly, when the vacation was over and James went back to the
seminary, he did not re-engage the room which he and his two friends had
rented the term before. He realized that to be in a condition to study
well he must feed his body well, and he was in favor of a more generous
system of diet. Besides, the labor required for cooking was so much time
taken from his study hours.

He heard that a widow--Mrs. Stiles--mother of the present sheriff of
Ashtabula County, was prepared to receive boarders, and, accordingly, he
called upon her to ascertain if she would receive him.

She knew something of him already, for she learned that he had obtained
the reputation of a steady and orderly student, and was disposed to
favor his application.

The next question was an important one to young Garfield.

"How much do you expect me to pay?"

He waited with some anxiety for the answer, for though he had
twenty-five dollars in his pocket, the term was a long one, and tuition
was to be paid also.

"A dollar and six cents will be about right," said Mrs. Stiles, "for
board, washing, and lodging."

"That will be satisfactory," said James, with a sigh of relief, for he
saw his way clear to pay this sum for a time, at least, and for the
whole term if he could again procure employment at his old trade.

A dollar and six cents! It was rather an odd sum, and we should consider
it nowadays as very low for any sort of board in any village, however
obscure or humble. But in those days it was not so exceptional, and
provisions were so much lower that the widow probably lost nothing by
her boarder, though she certainly could not have made much.

James had no money to spare for another purpose, though there was need
enough of it. He needed some new clothes badly. He had neither
underclothing nor overcoat, and but one outside suit, of cheap Kentucky
jean. No doubt he was subjected to mortification on account of his
slender supply of clothing. At any rate he was once placed in
embarrassing circumstances.

Toward the close of the term, as Mrs. Stiles says, his trowsers became
exceedingly thin at the knees, and one unlucky day, when he was
incautiously bending forward, they tore half-way round the leg, exposing
his bare knee.

James was very much mortified, and repaired damages as well as he could
with a pin.

"I need a new suit of clothes badly," he said in the evening, "but I
can't afford to buy one. See how I have torn my trowsers."

"Oh, that is easy enough to mend," said Mrs. Stiles, cheerfully.

"But I have no other pair to wear while they are being mended," said
James, with a blush.

"Then you must go to bed early, and send them down by one of the boys. I
will darn the hole so that you will never know it. You won't mind such
trifles when you become President."

It was a jocose remark, and the good lady little dreamed that, in after
years, the young man with but one pair of pantaloons, and those more
than half worn, would occupy the proud position she referred to.




CHAPTER X.

A COUSIN'S REMINISCENCES.


During his school-life at Geauga Seminary James enjoyed the
companionship of a cousin, Henry B. Boynton, who still lives on the farm
adjoining the one on which our hero was born. The relationship between
the two boys was much closer than is common between cousins; for while
their mothers were sisters, their fathers were half-brothers. Henry was
two years older than James, and they were more like brothers than
cousins. I am sure my young readers will be glad to read what Henry has
to say of their joint school-life. I quote from the account of an
interview held with a correspondent of the Boston _Herald_, bearing the
date of September 23, 1881:

When General Garfield was nominated to the Presidency his old neighbors
in Orange erected a flag-staff where the house stood which Garfield and
his brother erected for their mother and sisters with their own hands,
after the log hut, a little farther out in the field nearer the wood,
had become unfit for habitation. Thomas Garfield, the uncle of the
President, who not long since was killed by a railroad accident,
directed the manual labor of rearing the shaft, and was proud of his
work.

There is nothing except this hole left to mark his birth-place, and the
old well, not two rods off, which he and his brother dug to furnish
water for the family. In the little maple grove to the left, children
played about the school-house where the dead President first gathered
the rudiments upon which he built to such purpose. The old orchard in
its sere and yellow leaf, the dying grass, and the turning maple leaves
seemed to join in the great mourning.

Adjoining the field where the flag floats is an unpretentious home,
almost as much identified with Gen. Garfield's early history as the one
he helped to clear of the forest timber while he was yet but a child. It
is the home of Henry B. Boynton, cousin of the dead President, and a
brother of Dr. Boynton, whose name has become so well known from recent
events.

"While rambling over this place the correspondent came upon this near
relative of Garfield, smaller in stature than he was, but in features
bearing a striking resemblance to him.

"General Garfield and I were like brothers," he said, as he turned from
giving some directions to his farm hands, now sowing the fall grain upon
ground which his cousin had first helped to break. "His father died
yonder, within a stone's throw of us, when the son was but a year and a
half old. He knew no other father than mine, who watched over the family
as if it had been his own. This very house in which I live was as much
his home as it was mine.

"Over there," said he, pointing to the brick school-house in the grove
of maples, around which the happy children were playing, "is where he
and I both started for school. I have read a statement that he could not
read or write until he was nineteen. He could do both before he was
nine, and before he was twelve, so familiar was he with the Indian
history of the country, that he had named every tree in the orchard,
which his father planted as he was born, with the name of some Indian
chief, and even debated in societies, religion, and other topics with
men. One favorite tree of his he named Tecumseh, and the branches of
many of these old trees have been cut since his promotion to the
Presidency by relic-hunters, and carried away.

"Gen. Garfield was a remarkable boy as well as man. It is not possible
to tell you the fight he made amid poverty for a place in life, and how
gradually he obtained it. When he was a boy he would rather read than
work. But he became a great student. He had to work after he was twelve
years of age. In those days we were all poor, and it took hard knocks to
get on. He worked clearing the fields yonder with his brother, and then
cut cord-wood, and did other farm labor to get the necessities of life
for his mother and sisters.

"I remember when he was fourteen years of age, he went away to work at
Daniel Morse's, not four miles down the road from here, and after the
labors of the day he sat down to listen to the conversation of a teacher
in one of the schools of Cleveland, when it was yet a village, who had
called. The talk of the educated man pleased the boy, and, while intent
upon his story, a daughter of the man for whom he was working informed
the future President with great dignity that it was time that _servants_
were in bed, and that she preferred his absence to his presence.

"Nothing that ever happened to him so severely stung him as this
affront. In his youth he could never refer to it without indignation,
and almost immediately he left Mr. Morse's employ and went on the canal.
He said to me then that those people should live to see the day when
they would not care to insult him.

"His experience on the canal was a severe one, but perhaps useful. I can
remember the winter when he came home after the summer's service there.
He had the chills all that fall and winter, yet he would shake and get
his lessons at home; go over to the school and recite, and thus keep up
with his class. The next spring found him weak from constant ague. Yet
he intended to return to the canal.

"Here came the turning-point in his life. Mr. Bates, who taught the
school, pleaded with him not to do so, and said that if he would
continue in school till the next fall he could get a certificate. I
received a certificate about the same time The next year we went to the
seminary at Chester, only twelve miles distant. Here our books were
furnished us, and we cooked our own victuals. We lived upon a dollar a
week each. Our diet was strong, but very plain; mush and molasses, pork
and potatoes. Saturdays we took our axes, and went into the woods and
cut cord-wood. During vacations we labored in the harvest-field, or
taught a district school, as we could.

"Yonder," said he, pointing to a beautiful valley, about two miles
distant, "stands the school-house where Garfield first taught school. He
got twelve dollars a month, and boarded round. I also taught school in a
neighboring town. We both went back to Chester to college, and would
probably have finished our education there, but it was a Baptist school,
and they were constantly making flings at the children of the Disciples,
and teaching sectarianism. As the Disciples grew stronger they
determined their children should not be subjected to such influence; the
college of our own Church was established at Hiram, and there Garfield
and I went."

Though the remainder of the reminiscences somewhat anticipate the
course of our story, it is perhaps as well to insert it here.

"We lodged in the basement most of the time, and boarded at the present
Mrs. Garfield's father's house. During our school-days here I nursed the
late President through an attack of the measles which nearly ended his
life. He has often said, that, were it not for my attention, he could
not have lived. So you see that the General and myself were very close
to one another from the time either of us could lisp until he became
President. Here is a picture we had taken together," showing an old
daguerreotype. "It does not resemble either of us much now. And yet they
do say that we bore in our childhood, and still bear, a striking
resemblance. I am still a farmer, while he grew great and powerful. He
never permitted a suggestion, however, to be made in, my presence as to
the difference in our paths of life. He visited me here before election,
and looked with gratification upon that pole yonder, and its flag,
erected by his neighbors and kinsmen. He wandered over the fields he had
himself helped clear and pointed out to me trees from the limbs of which
he had shot squirrel after squirrel, and beneath the branches of which
he had played and worked in the years of his infancy and boyhood.

"I forgot to say that one of Gen. Garfield's striking characteristics
while he was growing up, was, that when he saw a boy in the class excel
him in anything, he never gave up till he reached the same standard, and
even went beyond it. It got to be known that no scholar could be ahead
of him. Our association as men has been almost as close as that of our
boyhood, though not as constant. The General never forgot his neighbors
or less fortunate kinsmen, and often visited us as we did him."

More vivid than any picture I could draw is this description, by the
most intimate friend of his boyhood, of James Garfield's way of life,
his struggles for an education, his constant desire to excel, and his
devotion to duty. We have already pictured the rustic boy in his humble
room, cooking his own food, and living, as his cousin testifies, on a
dollar a week. Is there any other country where such humble beginnings
could lead to such influence and power? Is there any other land where
such a lad could make such rapid strides toward the goal which crowns
the highest ambition? It is the career of such men that most commends
our Government and institutions, proving as it does that by the humblest
and poorest the highest dignities may be attained. James was content to
live on mush and molasses, pork and potatoes, since they came within his
narrow means, and gave him sufficient strength to pursue his cherished
studies. Nor is his an exceptional case. I have myself known college and
professional students who have lived on sixty cents a week (how, it is
difficult to tell), while their minds were busy with the loftiest
problems that have ever engaged the human intellect. Such boys and young
men are the promise of the republic. They toil upwards while others
sleep, and many such have written their names high on the tablets in the
Temple of Fame.




CHAPTER XI.

LEDGE HILL SCHOOL


Ever since he began to study at Geauga Seminary James had looked forward
to earning a little money by keeping school himself; not an advanced
school, of course, but an ordinary school, such as was kept in the
country districts in the winter. He felt no hesitation as to his
competence. The qualifications required by the school committees were by
no means large, and so far there was no difficulty.

There was one obstacle, however: James was still a boy himself--a large
boy, to be sure, but he had a youthful face, and the chances were that
he would have a number of pupils older than himself. Could he keep
order? Would the rough country boys submit to the authority of one like
themselves, whatever might be his reputation as a scholar? This was a
point to consider anxiously. However, James had pluck, and he was ready
to try the experiment.

He would have been glad to secure a school so far away that he could go
there as a stranger, and be received as a young man. But no such
opportunity offered. There was another opening nearer home.

A teacher was wanted for the Ledge Hill district in Orange, and the
committee-man bethought himself of James Garfield.

So one day he knocked at Mrs. Garfield's door.

"Is James at home?" he asked.

James heard the question, and came forward to meet his visitor.

"Good-morning," he said, pleasantly; "did you want to see me?"

"Are you calculating to keep school this winter" asked his visitor.

"If I can get a school to keep," was the reply.

"That's the business I came about. We want a schoolmaster for the Ledge
Hill School. How would you like to try it?"

"The Ledge Hill School!" repeated James, in some dismay. "Why, all the
boys know me there."

"Of course they do. Then they won't need to be introduced."

"Will they obey me? That's what I was thinking of. There are some
pretty hard cases in that school."

"That's where you are right."

"I wouldn't like to try it and fail," said James, doubtfully.

"You won't if you'll follow my advice," said the committee-man.

"What's that?"

"Thrash the first boy that gives you any trouble. Don't half do it; but
give him a sound flogging, so that he will understand who's master.
You're strong enough; you can do it."

James extended his muscular arm with a smile. He knew he was strong. He
was a large boy, and his training had been such as to develop his
muscles.

"You know the boys that will go to school. Is there any one that can
master you?" asked his visitor.

"No, I don't think there is," answered James, with a smile.

"Then you'll do. Let 'em know you are not afraid of them the first day.
That's the best advice I can give you."

"I shouldn't like to get into a fight with a pupil," said James,
slowly.

"You'll have to run the risk of it unless you teach a girls' school. I
guess you wouldn't have any trouble there."

"Not of that kind, probably. What wages do you pay?"

"Twelve dollars a month and board. Of course, you'll board round."

Twelve dollars a month would not be considered very high wages now, but
to James it was a consideration. He had earned as much in other ways,
but he was quite anxious to try his luck as a teacher. That might be his
future vocation, not teaching a district school, of course, but this
would be the first round of the ladder that might lead to a college
professorship. The first step is the most difficult, but it must be
taken, and the Ledge Hill School, difficult as it probably would be, was
to be the first step for the future President of Hiram College.

All these considerations James rapidly revolved in his mind, and then he
came to a decision.

"When does the school commence?" he asked.

"Next Monday."

"I accept your offer. I'll be on hand in time."

       *       *       *       *       *

The news quickly reached the Ledge Hill district that "Jim Garfield," as
he was popularly called, was to be their next teacher.

"Have you heard about the new master?" asked Tom Bassett, one of the
hard cases, of a friend.

"No. Who is it?"

"Jim Garfield."

The other whistled.

"You don't mean it?"

"Yes, I do."

"How did you hear?"

"Mr. ----," naming the committee-man, "told me."

"Then it must be so. We'll have a high old time if that's so."

"So we will," chuckled the other. "I'm anxious for school to begin."

"He's only a boy like us."

"That's so."

"He knows enough for a teacher; but knowing isn't everything."

"You're right. We can't be expected to mind a boy like ourselves that
we've known all our lives."

"Of course not."

"I like Jim well enough. He's a tip-top feller; but, all the same, he
aint goin' to boss me round."

"Nor me, either."

This conversation between Tom Bassett and Bill Stackpole (for obvious
reasons I use assumed names) augured ill for the success of the young
teacher. They determined to make it hot for him, and have all the fun
they wanted.

They thought they knew James Garfield, but they made a mistake. They
knew that he was of a peaceable disposition and not fond of quarreling,
and although they also knew that he was strong and athletic, they
decided that he would not long be able to maintain his position. If they
had been able to read the doubts and fears that agitated the mind of
their future preceptor, they would have felt confirmed in their belief.

The fact was, James shrank from the ordeal that awaited him.

"If I were only going among strangers," he said to his mother, "I
wouldn't mind it so much; but all these boys and girls have known me
ever since I was a small boy and went barefoot."

"Does your heart fail you, my son?" asked his mother, who sympathized
with him, yet saw that it was a trial which must come.

"I can't exactly say that, but I dread to begin."

"We must expect to encounter difficulties and perplexities, James. None
of our lives run all smoothly. Shall we conquer them or let them conquer
us?"

The boy's spirit was aroused.

"Say no more, mother," he replied. "I will undertake the school, and if
success is any way possible, I will succeed. I have been shrinking from
it, but I won't shrink any longer."

"That is the spirit that succeeds, James."

James laughed, and in answer quoted Campbell's stirring lines with
proper emphasis:

  "I will victor exult, or in death be laid low,
  With my face to the field and my feet to the foe."

So the time passed till the eventful day dawned on which James was to
assume charge of his first school. He was examined, and adjudged to be
qualified to teach; but that he anticipated in advance.

The building is still standing in which James taught his first school.
It is used for quite another purpose now, being occupied as a
carriage-house by the thrifty farmer who owns the ground upon which it
stands. The place where the teacher's desk stood, behind which the boy
stood as preceptor, is now occupied by two stalls for carriage-horses.
The benches which once contained the children he taught have been
removed to make room for the family carriage, and the play-ground is now
a barnyard. The building sits upon a commanding eminence known as Ledge
Hill, and overlooks a long valley winding between two lines of hills.

This description is furnished by the same correspondent of the Boston
_Herald_ to whom I am already indebted for Henry Boynton's reminiscences
contained in the last chapter.

When James came in sight, and slowly ascended the hill in sight of the
motley crew of boys and girls who were assembled in front of the
school-house on the first morning of the term, it was one of the most
trying moments of his life. He knew instinctively that the boys were
anticipating the fun in store for them in the inevitable conflict which
awaited him, and he felt constrained and nervous. He managed, however,
to pass through the crowd, wearing a pleasant smile and greeting his
scholars with a bow. There was trouble coming, he was convinced, but he
did not choose to betray any apprehension.




CHAPTER XII.

WHO SHALL BE MASTER?


With as much dignity as was possible under the circumstances, James
stepped to the teacher's desk and rang the bell.

This was hardly necessary, for out of curiosity all the scholars had
promptly followed the young teacher into the school-room and taken their
seats.

After the introductory exercises, James made a brief address to the
scholars:

"I don't need any introduction to you," he said, "for you all know me. I
see before me many who have been my playfellows and associates, but
to-day a new relation is established between us. I am here as your
teacher, regularly appointed by the committee, and it is my duty to
assist you as far as I can to increase your knowledge. I should hardly
feel competent to do so if I had not lately attended Geauga Seminary,
and thus improved my own education. I hope you will consider me a
friend, not only as I have been, but as one who is interested in
promoting your best interests. One thing more," he added, "it is not
only my duty to teach you, but to maintain good order, and this I mean
to do. In school I wish you to look upon me as your teacher, but outside
I shall join you in your sports, and be as much a boy as any of you. We
will now proceed to our daily lessons."

This speech was delivered with self-possession, and favorably impressed
all who heard it, even the boys who meant to make trouble, but they
could not give up their contemplated fun. Nevertheless, by tacit
agreement, they preserved perfect propriety for the present. They were
not ready for the explosion.

The boy teacher was encouraged by the unexpected quiet.

"After all," he thought, "everything is likely to go smoothly. I need
not have troubled myself so much."

He knew the usual routine at the opening of a school term. The names of
the children were to be taken, they were to be divided into classes, and
lessons were to be assigned. Feeling more confidence in himself, James
went about this work in business fashion, and when recess came, the
comments made by the pupils in the playground were generally favorable.

"He's going to make a good teacher," said one of the girls, "as good as
any we've had, and he's so young too."

"He goes to work as if he knew how," said another. "I didn't think Jimmy
Garfield had so much in him."

"Oh, he's smart!" said another. "Just think of brother Ben trying to
keep school, and he's just as old as James."

Meanwhile Tom Bassett and Bill Stackpole had a private conference
together.

"What do you think of Jim's speech, Bill?" asked Tom.

"Oh, it sounded well enough, but I'll bet he was trembling in his boots
all the while he was talkin'."

"Maybe so, but he seemed cool enough."

"Oh, that was all put on. Did you hear what he said about keepin'
order?"

"Yes, he kinder looked at you an' me when he was talkin'."

"I guess he heard about our turnin' out the last teacher."

"Of course. I tell you, it took some cheek to come here and order 'round
us boys that has known him all his life."

"That's so. Do you think he's goin' to maintain order, as he calls it?"

"You just wait till afternoon. He'll know better then."

James did not go out to recess the first day. He had some things to do
affecting the organization of the school, and so he remained at his
desk. Several of the pupils came up to consult him on one point or
another, and he received them all with that pleasant manner which
throughout his life was characteristic of him. To one and another he
gave a hint or a suggestion, based upon his knowledge of their character
and abilities. One of the boys said: "Do you think I'd better study
grammar, Jimmy--I mean Mr. Garfield?"

James smiled. He knew the slip was unintentional. Of course it would not
do for him to allow himself to be addressed in school by a pupil as
Jimmy.

"Yes," he answered, "unless you think you know all about it already."

"I don't know the first thing about it."

"Then, of course, you ought to study it. Why shouldn't you?"

"But I can't make nothin' out of it. I can't understand it nohow."

"Then you need somebody to explain it to you."

"It's awful stupid."

"I don't think you will find it so when you come to know more about it.
I shall be ready to explain it. I think I can make you understand it."

Another had a sum he could not do. So James found the recess pass
quickly away, and again the horde of scholars poured into the
school-room.

It was not till afternoon that the conflict came.

Tom Bassett belonged to the first class in geography.

James called out the class.

All came out except Tom, who lounged carelessly in his seat.

"Thomas, don't you belong to this class?" asked the young teacher.

"I reckon I do."

"Then why don't you come out to recite?"

"Oh, I feel lazy," answered Tom, with a significant smile, as if to
inquire, "What are you goin' to do about it?"

James thought to himself with a thrill of unpleasant excitement, "It's
coming. In ten minutes I shall know whether Tom Bassett or I is to rule
this school."

His manner was calm, however, as he said, "That is no excuse. I can't
accept it. As your teacher I order you to join your class."

"Can't you wait till to-morrow?" asked Tom, with a grin, which was
reflected on the faces of several other pupils.

"I think I understand you," said James, with outward calmness. "You defy
my authority."

"You're only a boy like me," said Tom; "I don't see why I should obey
you."

"If you were teacher, and I pupil, I should obey you," said James, "and
I expect the same of you."

"Oh, go on with the recitation!" said Tom, lazily. "Never mind me!"

James felt that he could afford to wait no longer Turning to the class,
he said, "I shall have to delay you for a minute."

He walked deliberately up to the seat where Tom Bassett was sitting.

Tom squared off in the expectation of an assault; but, with the speed of
lightning, the young teacher grasped him by the collar, and, with a
strength that surprised himself, dragged him from his seat, in spite of
his struggles, till he reached the place where the class was standing.

By this time Bill Stackpole felt called upon to help his partner in
rebellion.

"You let him alone!" he said, menacingly, stepping forward.

"One at a time!" said James, coolly. "I will be ready for you in a
minute."

He saw that there was only one thing to do.

He dragged Tom to the door, and forcibly ejected him, saying, "When you
get ready to obey me you can come back."

He had scarcely turned when Bill Stackpole was upon him.

With a quick motion of the foot James tripped him up, and, still
retaining his grasp on his collar, said, "Will you go or stay?"

Bill was less resolute than Tom.

"I guess I'll stay," he said; then picked himself up and resumed his
place in the class.

Apparently calm, James returned to his desk, and commenced hearing the
class recite.

The next morning, on his way to school, James overtook Tom Bassett, who
eyed him with evident embarrassment. Tom's father had sent him back to
school, and Tom did not dare disobey.

"Good morning, Tom," said James, pleasantly.

"Mornin'!" muttered Tom.

"I hope you are going to school?"

"Father says I must."

"I am glad of that, too. By the way, Tom, I think I shall have to get
some of the scholars to help me with some of the smaller pupils. I
should like to get you to hear the lowest class in arithmetic to-day."

"You want me to help you teach?" exclaimed Tom, in amazement.

"Yes; it will give me more time for the higher classes."

"And you don't bear no malice on account of yesterday?"

"Oh, no; we are too good friends to mind such a trifle."

"Then," said Tom, impulsively, "you won't have no more trouble with me.
I'll help you all I can."

There was general surprise felt when the young teacher and his
rebellious scholar were seen approaching the school-house, evidently on
the most friendly terms. There was still greater surprise when, during
the forenoon, James requested Tom to hear the class already mentioned.
At recess Tom proclaimed his intention to lick any boy that was impudent
to the teacher, and the new Garfield administration seemed to be
established on a firm basis.

This incident, which is based upon an actual resort to war measures on
the part of the young teacher, is given to illustrate the strength as
well as the amiability of Garfield's character. It was absolutely
necessary that he should show his ability to govern.




CHAPTER XIII.

AMES LEAVES GEAUGA SEMINARY


While teaching his first school James "boarded round" among the families
who sent pupils to his school. It was not so pleasant as having a
permanent home, but it afforded him opportunities of reaching and
influencing his scholars which otherwise he could not have enjoyed. With
his cheerful temperament and genial manners, he could hardly fail to be
an acquisition to any family with whom he found a home. He was ready
enough to join in making the evenings pass pleasantly, and doubtless he
had ways of giving instruction indirectly, and inspiring a love of
learning similar to that which he himself possessed.

He returned to school with a small sum of money in his pocket, which was
of essential service to him in his economical way of living. But he
brought also an experience in imparting knowledge to others which was
still greater value.

An eminent teacher has said that we never fully know anything till we
have tried to impart it to others.

James remained at the Geauga Seminary for three years. Every winter he
taught school, and with success. In one of these winter sessions, we are
told by Rev. William M. Thayer, in his biography of Garfield, that he
was applied to by an ambitious student to instruct him in geometry.
There was one difficulty in the way, and that a formidable one. He was
entirely unacquainted with geometry himself. But, he reflected, here is
an excellent opportunity for me to acquire a new branch of knowledge.
Accordingly he procured a text-book, studied it faithfully at night,
keeping sufficiently far ahead of his pupil to qualify him to be his
guide and instructor, and the pupil never dreamed that his teacher, like
himself, was traversing unfamiliar ground.

It was early in his course at Geauga that he made the acquaintance of
one who was to prove his closest and dearest friend--the young lady who
in after years was to become his wife. Lucretia Rudolph was the daughter
of a farmer in the neighborhood--"a quiet, thoughtful girl, of
singularly sweet and refined disposition, fond of study and reading,
and possessing a warm heart, and a mind capable of steady growth."
Probably James was first attracted to her by intellectual sympathy and a
community of tastes; but as time passed he discerned in her something
higher and better than mere intellectual aspiration; and who shall say
in the light that has been thrown by recent events on the character of
Lucretia Garfield, that he was not wholly right?

Though we are anticipating the record, it may be in place to say here
that the acquaintance formed here was renewed and ripened at Hiram
College, to which in time both transferred themselves. There as
pupil-teacher James Garfield became in one branch the instructor of his
future wife, and it was while there that the two became engaged. It was
a long engagement. James had to wait the traditional "seven years" for
his wife, but the world knows how well he was repaid for his long
waiting.

"Did you know Mrs. Garfield?" asked a reporter of the Chicago
_Inter-Ocean_ of Mr. Philo Chamberlain, of Cleveland.

"Yes, indeed," was the reply. "My wife knows her intimately. They used
to teach school together in Cleveland. Mrs. Garfield is a splendid lady.
She wasn't what you would call a brilliant teacher, but she was an
unusually good one, very industrious, and the children made rapid
progress in their studies under her. And then she was studious, too.
Why, she acquired three languages while she was in school, both as a
student and a teacher, and she spoke them well, I am told. They were
married shortly after he came back from Williams, and I forgot to tell
you a nice little thing about the time when he paid Dr. Robinson back
the money he had spent on him. When Dr. Robinson refused to take the
interest, which amounted to a snug little sum, Garfield said: 'Well,
Doctor, that is one big point in my favor, as now I can get married.' It
seems that they had been engaged for a long time, but had to wait till
he could get something to marry on. And I tell you it isn't every young
man that will let the payment of a self-imposed debt stand between him
and getting married to the girl he loves."

Without anticipating too far events we have not yet reached, it may be
said that Lucretia Garfield's education and culture made her not the
wife only, but the sympathetic friend and intellectual helper of her
husband. Her early studies were of service to her in enabling her
partially to prepare for college her two oldest boys. She assisted her
husband also in his literary plans, without losing the domestic
character of a good wife, and the refining graces of a true woman.

But let us not forget that James is still a boy in his teens. He had
many hardships to encounter, and many experiences to go through before
he could set up a home of his own. He had studied three years, but his
education had only begun. The Geauga Seminary was only an academy, and
hardly the equal of the best academies to be found at the East.

He began to feel that he had about exhausted its facilities, and to look
higher. He had not far to look.

During the year 1851 the Disciples, the religious body to which young
Garfield had attached himself, opened a collegiate school at Hiram, in
Portage County, which they called an eclectic school. Now it ranks as a
college, but at the time James entered it, it had not assumed so
ambitious a title.

It was not far away, and James' attention was naturally drawn to it.
There was an advantage also in its location. Hiram was a small country
village, where the expenses of living were small, and, as we know, our
young student's purse was but scantily filled. Nevertheless, so limited
were his means that it was a perplexing problem how he would be able to
pay his way.

He consulted his mother, and, as was always the case, found that she
sympathized fully in his purpose of obtaining a higher education.
Pecuniary help, however, she could not give, nor had he at this time any
rich friends upon whom he could call for the pittance he required.

But James was not easily daunted. He had gone to Geauga Seminary with
but seventeen dollars in his pocket; he had remained there three years,
maintaining himself by work at his old trade of carpenter and teaching,
and had graduated owing nothing. He had become self-reliant, and felt
that what he had done at Chester he could do at Hiram.

So one fine morning he set out, with a light heart and a pocket equally
light, for the infant institution from which he hoped so much.

The Board of Trustees were in session, as we learn from the account
given by one of their number, when James arrived and sought an audience.

After a little delay, the doorkeeper was instructed to bring him in.

James was nineteen at this time. He was no longer as homespun in
appearance as when he sat upon a log with Dr. Robinson, in the seclusion
of the woods, and asked his advice about a career. Nevertheless, he was
still awkward. He had grown rapidly, was of slender build, and had no
advantages of dress to recommend him. One who saw him in after-life,
with his noble, imposing presence, would hardly recognize any similarity
between him and the raw country youth who stood awkwardly before the
Board of Trustees, to plead his cause. It happens not unfrequently that
a lanky youth develops into a fine-looking man. Charles Sumner, at the
age of twenty, stood six feet two inches in his stockings, and weighed
but one hundred and twenty pounds! Yet in after-life he was a man of
noble presence.

But all this while we are leaving James in suspense before the men whose
decision is to affect his life so powerfully.

"Well, young man," asked the Principal, "what can we do for you?"

"Gentlemen," said James, earnestly, "I want an education, and would like
the privilege of making the fires and sweeping the floors of the
building to pay part of my expenses."

There was in his bearing and countenance an earnestness and an
intelligence which impressed the members of the board.

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Frederic Williams, one of the trustees, "I think
we had better try this young man."

Another member, turning to Garfield, said: "How do we know, young man,
that the work will be done as we may desire?"

"Try me," was the answer; "try me two weeks, and if it is not done to
your entire satisfaction, I will retire without a word."

"That seems satisfactory," said the member who had asked the question.

"What studies do you wish to pursue?" asked one gentleman.

"I want to prepare for college. I shall wish to study Latin, Greek,
mathematics, and anything else that may be needed."

"Have you studied any of these already?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where?"

"At the Geauga Seminary. I can refer you to the teachers there. I have
studied under them for three years, and they know all about me."

"What is your name?"

"James A. Garfield."

"There is something in that young man," said one of the trustees to Mr.
Williams. "He seems thoroughly in earnest, and I believe will be a hard
worker."

"I agree with you," was the reply.

James was informed that his petition was granted, and he at once made
arrangements for his residence at Hiram.




CHAPTER XIV.

AT HIRAM INSTITUTE.


Hiram, the seat of the Eclectic Institute, was not a place of any
pretension. It was scarcely a village, but rather a hamlet. Yet the
advantages which the infant institution offered drew together a
considerable number of pupils of both sexes, sons and daughters of the
Western Reserve farmers, inspired with a genuine love of learning, and
too sensible to waste their time on mere amusement.

This is the account given of it by President B.A. Hinsdale, who for
fifteen years has ably presided over its affairs: "The institute
building, a plain but substantially built brick structure, was put on
the top of a windy hill, in the middle of a cornfield. One of the cannon
that General Scott's soldiers dragged to the City of Mexico in 1847,
planted on the roof of the new structure, would not have commanded a
score of farm houses.

"Here the school opened at the time Garfield was closing his studies at
Chester. It had been in operation two terms when he offered himself for
enrollment. Hiram furnished a location, the Board of Trustees a building
and the first teacher, the surrounding country students, but the
spiritual Hiram made itself. Everything was new. Society, traditions,
the genius of the school, had to be evolved from the forces of the
teachers and pupils, limited by the general and local environment. Let
no one be surprised when I say that such a school as this was the best
of all places for young Garfield. There was freedom, opportunity, a
large society of rapidly and eagerly opening young minds, instructors
who were learned enough to instruct him, and abundant scope for ability
and force of character, of which he had a superabundance.

"Few of the students who came to Hiram in that day had more than a
district-school education, though some had attended the high schools and
academies scattered over the country; so that Garfield, though he had
made but slight progress in the classics and the higher mathematics
previous to his arrival, ranked well up with the first scholars. In
ability, all acknowledged that he was the peer of any; soon his
superiority to all others was generally conceded."

So James entered upon his duties as janitor and bell-ringer. It was a
humble position for the future President of the United States; but no
work is humiliating which is undertaken with a right aim and a useful
object. Of one thing my boy-reader may be sure--the duties of the
offices were satisfactorily performed. The school-rooms were well cared
for, and the bell was rung punctually. This is shown by the fact that,
after the two weeks of probation, he was still continued in office,
though doubtless in the large number of students of limited means in the
institute there was more than one that would have been glad to relieve
him of his office.

It will hardly be supposed, however, that the position of janitor and
bell-ringer could pay all his expenses. He had two other resources. In
term-time he worked at his trade of carpenter as opportunity offered,
and in the winter, as at Chester, he sought some country town where he
could find employment as a teacher.

The names of the places where he taught are not known to me, though
doubtless there is many an Ohio farmer, or mechanic, or, perchance,
professional man, who is able to boast that he was partially educated by
a President of the United States.

As characteristic of his coolness and firmness, I am tempted to record
an incident which happened to him in one of his winter schools.

There were some scholars about as large as himself, to whom obedience to
the rules of the school was not quite easy--who thought, in
consideration of their age and size, that they might venture upon acts
which would not be tolerated in younger pupils.

The school had commenced one morning, when the young teacher heard angry
words and the noise of a struggle in the school-yard, which chanced to
be inclosed. The noise attracted the attention of the scholars, and
interfered with the attention which the recitation required.

James Garfield stepped quietly outside of the door, and saw two of his
oldest and largest pupils engaged in a wrestling match. For convenience
we will call them Brown and Jones.

"What are you about, boys?" asked the teacher The two were so earnestly
engaged in their conflict that neither returned an answer.

"This must be stopped immediately," said James, decisively. "It is
disrespectful to me, and disturbs the recitations."

He might as well have spoken to the wind. They heard, but they continued
their fight.

"This must stop, or I will stop it myself," said the teacher.

The boys were not afraid. Each was about as large as the teacher, and
they felt that if he interfered he was likely to get hurt.

James thought he had given sufficient warning. The time had come to act.
He stepped quickly forward, seized one of the combatants, and with a
sudden exertion of strength, threw him over the fence. Before he had
time to recover from his surprise his companion was lifted over in the
same manner.

"Now, go on with your fighting if you wish," said the young teacher;
"though I advise you to shake hands and make up. When you get through
come in and report."

The two young men regarded each other foolishly. Somehow all desire to
fight had been taken away.

"I guess we'll go in now," said Brown.

"I'm with you," said Jones, and Garfield entered the school-room, meekly
followed by the two refractory pupils. There was not much use in
resisting the authority of a teacher who could handle them with such
ease.

James did not trouble them with any moral lecture. He was too sensible.
He felt that all had been said and done that was required.

But how did he spend his time at the new seminary, and how was he
regarded? Fortunately we have the testimony of a lady, now residing in
Illinois, who was one of the first students at Hiram.

"When he first entered the school," she writes, "he paid for his
schooling by doing janitor's work, sweeping the floor and ringing the
bell. I can see him even now standing in the morning with his hand on
the bell-rope, ready to give the signal, calling teachers and scholars
to engage in the duties of the day. As we passed by, entering the
school-room, he had a cheerful word for every one. He was probably the
most popular person in the institution. He was always good-natured, fond
of conversation, and very entertaining. He was witty and quick at
repartee, but his jokes, though brilliant and sparkling, were always
harmless, and he never would willingly hurt another's feelings.

"Afterward he became an assistant teacher, and while pursuing his
classical studies, preparatory to his college course, he taught the
English branches. He was a most entertaining teacher--ready with
illustrations, and possessing in a marked degree the power of exciting
the interest of the scholars, and afterward making clear to them the
lessons. In the arithmetic class there were ninety pupils, and I can not
remember a time when there was any flagging in the interest. There were
never any cases of unruly conduct, or a disposition to shirk. With
scholars who were slow of comprehension, or to whom recitations were a
burden, on account of their modest or retiring dispositions, he was
specially attentive, and by encouraging words and gentle assistance
would manage to put all at their ease, and awaken in them a confidence
in themselves. He was not much given to amusements or the sports of the
playground. He was too industrious, and too anxious to make the utmost
of his opportunities to study.

"He was a constant attendant at the regular meetings for prayer, and
his vigorous exhortations and apt remarks upon the Bible lessons were
impressive and interesting. There was a cordiality in his disposition
which won quickly the favor and esteem of others. He had a happy habit
of shaking hands, and would give a hearty grip which betokened a
kind-hearted feeling for all. He was always ready to turn his mind and
hands in any direction whereby he might add to his meagre store of
money.

"One of his gifts was that of mezzotint drawing, and he gave instruction
in this branch. I was one of his pupils in this, and have now the
picture of a cross upon which he did some shading and put on the
finishing touches. Upon the margin is written, in the name of the noted
teacher, his own name and his pupil's. There are also two other
drawings, one of a large European bird on the bough of a tree, and the
other a church yard scene in winter, done by him at that time. In those
days the faculty and pupils were wont to call him 'the second Webster,'
and the remark was common, 'He will fill the White House yet.' In the
Lyceum he early took rank far above the others as a speaker and debater.

"During the month of June the entire school went in carriages to their
annual grove meeting at Randolph, some twenty-five miles away. On this
trip he was the life of the party, occasionally bursting out in an
eloquent strain at the sight of a bird or a trailing vine, or a
venerable giant of the forest. He would repeat poetry by the hour,
having a very retentive memory.

"At the Institute the members were like a band of brothers and sisters,
all struggling to advance in knowledge. Then all dressed plainly, and
there was no attempt or pretence at dressing fashionably or stylishly.
Hiram was a little country place, with no fascinations or worldly
attractions to draw off the minds of the students from their work."

Such is an inside view--more graphic than any description I can give--of
the life of James Garfield at Hiram Institute.




CHAPTER XV.

THREE BUSY YEARS.


Among the readers of this volume there may be boys who are preparing for
college. They will be interested to learn the extent of James Garfield's
scholarship, when he left the Geauga Academy, and transferred himself to
the Institute at Hiram. Though, in his own language, he remembers with
great satisfaction the work which was accomplished for him at Chester,
that satisfaction does not spring from the amount that he had acquired,
but rather that while there he had formed a definite purpose and plan to
complete a college course. For, as the young scholar truly remarks, "It
is a great point gained when a young man makes up his mind to devote
several years to the accomplishment of a definite work."

When James entered at Hiram, he had studied Latin only six weeks, and
just begun Greek. He was therefore merely on the threshold of his
preparatory course for college. To anticipate a little, he completed
this course, and fitted himself to enter the Junior class at Williams
College in the space of three years. How much labor this required many
of my readers are qualified to understand. It required him to do nearly
six years' work in three, though interrupted by work of various kinds
necessary for his support.

He was not yet able to live luxuriously, or even, as we suppose,
comfortably. He occupied a room with four other students, which could
hardly have been favorable for study. Yet, in the first term he
completed six books of Caesar's commentaries, and made good progress in
Greek. During the first winter he taught a school at Warrensville,
receiving the highest salary he had yet been paid, eighteen dollars a
month--of course in addition to board.

At the commencement of the second year the president sent for him.

James obeyed the summons, wondering whether he was to receive any
reprimand for duty unfulfilled.

President Hayden received him cordially, thus dissipating his
apprehensions.

"Garfield," he said, "Mr. ----, tutor in English and ancient languages,
is sick, and it is doubtful whether he will be able to resume his
duties. Do you think you can fill his place, besides carrying on your
own work as student?"

Young Garfield's face flushed with pleasure. The compliment was
unexpected, but in every way the prospect it opened was an agreeable
one. His only doubt was as to his qualifications.

"I should like it very much," he said, "if you think I am qualified."

"I have no doubt on that point. You will teach only what is familiar to
you, and I believe you have a special faculty for imparting knowledge."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Hayden," said Garfield. "I will accept with
gratitude, and I will do my best to give satisfaction."

How well he discharged his office may be inferred from the testimony
given in the last chapter.

Though a part of his time was taken up in teaching others, he did not
allow it to delay his own progress. Still before him he kept the bright
beacon of a college education. He had put his hand to the plow, and he
was not one to turn back or loiter on the way. That term he began
Xenophon's Anabasis, and was fortunate enough to find a home in the
president's family.

But he was not content with working in term-time. When the summer
brought a vacation, he felt that it was too long a time to be lost. He
induced ten students to join him, and hired Professor Dunshee to give
them lessons for one month. During that time he read the Eclogues and
Georgics of Virgil entire, and the first six books of Homer's Iliad,
accompanied by a thorough drill in the Latin and Greek grammar. He must
have "toiled terribly," and could have had few moments for recreation.
When the fall term commenced, in company with Miss Almeda Booth, a
mature young lady of remarkable intellect, and some other students, he
formed a Translation society, which occupied itself with the Book of
Romans, of course in the Greek version. During the succeeding winter he
read the whole of "Demosthenes on the Crown."

The mental activity of the young man (he was now twenty) seems
exhaustless. All this time he took an active part in a literary society
composed of some of his fellow-students. He had already become an easy,
fluent, and forcible speaker--a very necessary qualification for the
great work of his life.

"Oh, I suppose he had a talent for it," some of my young readers may
say.

Probably he had; indeed, it is certain that he had, but it may encourage
them to learn that he found difficulties at the start. When a student at
Geauga, he made his first public speech. It was a six minutes' oration
at the annual exhibition, delivered in connection with a literary
society to which he belonged. He records in a diary kept at the time
that he "was very much scared," and "very glad of a short curtain across
the platform that hid my shaking legs from the audience." Such
experiences are not uncommon in the career of men afterward noted for
their ease in public speaking. I can recall such, and so doubtless can
any man of academic or college training. I wish to impress upon my young
reader that Garfield was indebted for what he became to earnest work.

While upon the subject of public speaking I am naturally led to speak of
young Garfield's religious associations. His mind has already been
impressed with the importance of the religious element, and he felt
that no life would be complete without it. He had joined the Church of
the Disciples, the same to which his uncle belonged, and was baptized in
a little stream that runs into the Chagrin River. The creed of this
class of religious believers is one likely to commend itself in most
respects to the general company of Christians; but as this volume is
designed to steer clear of sect or party, I do not hold any further
reference to it necessary. What concerns us more is, that young
Garfield, in accordance with the liberal usages of the Disciples, was
invited on frequent occasions to officiate as a lay preacher in the
absence of the regular pastor of the Church of the Disciples at Hiram.

Though often officiating as a preacher, I do not find that young
Garfield ever had the ministry in view. On the other hand, he early
formed the design of studying for the legal profession, as he gradually
did, being admitted to the bar of Cuyahoga County, in 1860, when himself
president of Hiram College.

So passed three busy and happy years. Young Garfield had but few idle
moments. In teaching others, in pursuing his own education, in taking
part in the work of the literary society, and in Sunday exhortations,
his time was well filled up. But neither his religion nor his love of
study made him less companionable. He was wonderfully popular. His
hearty grasp of the hand, his genial manner, his entire freedom from
conceit, his readiness to help others, made him a general favorite. Some
young men, calling themselves religious, assume a sanctimonious manner,
that repels, but James Garfield never was troubled in this way. He
believed that

  "Religion never was designed
    To make our pleasures less,"

and was always ready to take part in social pleasures, provided they did
not interfere with his work.

And all this while, with all his homely surroundings, he had high
thoughts for company. He wrote to a student, afterward his own successor
to the presidency, words that truly describe his own aspirations and
habits of mind. "Tell me, Burke, do you not feel a spirit stirring
within you that longs _to know, to do, and to dare_, to hold converse
with the great world of thought, and hold before you some high and noble
object to which the vigor of your mind and the strength of your arm may
be given? Do you not have longings like these which you breathe to no
one, and which you feel must be heeded, or you will pass through life
unsatisfied and regretful? I am sure you have them, and they will
forever cling round your heart till you obey their mandate."

The time had come when James was ready to take another step upward. The
district school had been succeeded by Geauga Seminary, that by Hiram
Institute, and now he looked Eastward for still higher educational
privileges. There was a college of his own sect at Bethany, not far
away, but the young man was not so blinded by this consideration as not
to understand that it was not equal to some of the best known colleges
at the East.

Which should he select?

He wrote to the presidents of Brown University, Yale, and Williams,
stating how far he had advanced, and inquiring how long it would take to
complete their course.

From all he received answers, but the one from President Hopkins, of
Williams College, ended with the sentence, "If you come here, we shall
be glad to do what we can for you." This sentence, so friendly and
cordial, decided the young man who otherwise would have found it hard to
choose between the three institutions.

"My mind is made up," he said. "I shall start for Williams College next
week."

He was influenced also by what he already knew of Dr. Hopkins. He was
not a stranger to the high character of his intellect, and his
theological reputation. He felt that here was a man of high rank in
letters who was prepared to be not only his teacher and guide, but his
personal friend, and for this, if for no other reason, he decided in
favor of Williams College. To a young man circumstanced as he was, a
word of friendly sympathy meant much.




CHAPTER XVI.

ENTERING WILLIAMS COLLEGE.


James Garfield had reached the mature age of twenty-two years when he
made his first entrance into Williamstown. He did not come quite
empty-handed. He had paid his expenses while at Hiram, and earned three
hundred and fifty dollars besides, which he estimated would carry him
through the Junior year. He was tall and slender, with a great shock of
light hair, rising nearly erect from a broad, high forehead. His face
was open, kindly, and thoughtful, and it did not require keen perception
of character to discern something above the common in the awkward
Western youth, in his decidedly shabby raiment.

Young Garfield would probably have enjoyed the novel sensation of being
well dressed, but he had never had the opportunity of knowing how it
seemed. That ease and polish of manner which come from mingling in
society he entirely lacked. He was as yet a rough diamond, but a diamond
for all that.

Among his classmates were men from the cities, who stared in undisguised
amazement at the tall, lanky young man who knocked at the doors of the
college for admission.

"Who is that rough-looking fellow?" asked a member of a lower class,
pointing out Garfield, as he was crossing the college campus.

"Oh, that is Garfield; he comes from the Western Reserve."

"I suppose his clothes were made by a Western Reserve tailor."

"Probably," answered his classmate, smiling.

"He looks like a confirmed rustic."

"That is true, but there is something in him. I am in his division, and
I can tell you that he has plenty of talent."

"His head is big enough."

"Yes, he has a large brain--a sort of Websterian intellect. He is bound
to be heard of."

"It is a pity he is so awkward."

"Oh, that will wear off. He has a hearty, cordial way with him, and
though at first we were disposed to laugh at him, we begin to like
him."

"He's as old as the hills. At any rate, he looks so."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Compared with you he is, for he is nearly twenty-three. However, it is
never too late to learn. He is not only a good scholar, but he is very
athletic, and there are few in college who can equal him in athletic
sports."

"Why didn't he come to college before? What made him wait till he was an
old man?"

"I understand that he has had a hard struggle with poverty. All the
money he has he earned by hard labor. Dr. Hopkins seems to have taken a
liking to him. I saw him walking with the doctor the other day."

This conversation describes pretty accurately the impression made by
Garfield upon his classmates, and by those in other classes who became
acquainted with him. At first they were disposed to laugh at the tall,
awkward young man and his manners, but soon his real ability, and his
cordial, social ways won upon all, and he was installed as a favorite.
The boys began to call him Old Gar, and regarded him with friendship and
increasing respect, as he grew and developed intellectually, and they
began to see what manner of man he was.

Perhaps the readiest way for a collegian to make an impression upon his
associates is to show a decided talent for oratory. They soon discovered
at Williams that Garfield had peculiar gifts in this way. His speaking
at clubs, and before the church of his communion in Hiram, had been for
him a valuable training. He joined a society, and soon had an
opportunity of showing that he was a ready and forcible speaker.

One day there came startling news to the college. Charles Sumner had
been struck down in the Senate chamber by Preston S. Brooks, of South
Carolina, for words spoken in debate. The hearts of the students
throbbed with indignation--none more fiercely than young Garfield's. At
an indignation meeting convened by the students he rose and delivered,
so says one who heard him, "one of the most impassioned and eloquent
speeches ever delivered in old Williams."

It made a sensation.

"Did you hear Old Gar's speech at the meeting?" asked one of another.

"No, I did not get in in time."

"It was great. I never heard him speak better. Do you know what I
think?"

"Well?"

"Gar will be in Congress some day himself. He has rare powers of debate,
and is a born orator."

"I shouldn't wonder myself if you were right. If he ever reaches
Congress he will do credit to old Williams."

James had given up his trade as a carpenter. He was no longer obliged to
resort to it, or, at any rate, he preferred to earn money in a different
way. So one winter he taught penmanship at North Pownal, in Vermont, a
post for which he was qualified, for he had a strong, bold, handsome
hand.

"Did you know Mr. Arthur, who taught school here last winter?" asked one
of his writing pupils of young Garfield.

"No; he was not a student of Williams."

"He graduated at Union College, I believe."

"Was he a good teacher?"

"Yes, he was very successful, keeping order without any trouble, though
the school is considered a hard one."

This was Chester A. Arthur, whose name in after years was to be
associated with that of the writing-teacher, who was occupying the same
room as his Presidential successor. But to James Garfield, at that time,
the name meant nothing, and it never occurred to him what high plans
Providence had for them both. It was one of those remarkable cases in
which the paths of two men who are joined in destiny traverse each
other. Was it not strange that two future occupants of the Presidential
chair should be found teaching in the same school-room, in an obscure
Vermont village, two successive winters?

As the reader, though this is the biography of Garfield, may feel a
curiosity to learn what sort of a teacher Arthur was, I shall, without
apology, conclude this chapter with the story of a pupil of his who, in
the year 1853, attended the district school at Cohoes, then taught by
Chester A. Arthur. I find it in the Troy _Times_:

"In the year 1853 the writer attended the district school at Cohoes. The
high department did not enjoy a very enviable reputation for being
possessed of that respect due from the pupils to teacher. During the
year there had been at least four teachers in that department, the last
one only remaining one week. The Board of Education had found it
difficult to obtain a pedagogue to take charge of the school, until a
young man, slender as a May-pole and six feet high in his stockings,
applied for the place. He was engaged at once, although he was
previously informed of the kind of timber he would be obliged to hew.

"Promptly at nine o'clock A.M. every scholar was on hand to welcome the
man who had said that he would 'conquer the school or forfeit his
reputation.' Having called the morning session to order, he said that he
had been engaged to take charge of the school. He came with his mind
prejudiced against the place. He had heard of the treatment of the
former teachers by the pupils, yet he was not at all embarrassed, for he
felt that, with the proper recognition of each other's rights, teacher
and scholars could live together in harmony. He did not intend to
threaten, but he intended to make the scholars obey him, and would try
and win the good-will of all present. He had been engaged to take
charge of that room, and he wished the co-operation of every pupil in so
doing. He had no club, ruler, or whip, but appealed directly to the
hearts of every young man and young lady in the room. Whatever he should
do, he would at least show to the people of this place that this school
could be governed. He spoke thus and feelingly at times, yet with
perfect dignity he displayed that executive ability which in after years
made him such a prominent man. Of course the people, especially the
boys, had heard fine words spoken before, and at once a little smile
seemed to flit across the faces of the leading spirits in past
rebellions.

"The work of the forenoon began, when a lad of sixteen placed a marble
between his thumb and finger, and, with a snap, sent it rolling across
the floor. As the tall and handsome teacher saw this act, he arose from
his seat, and, without a word, walked toward the lad.

"'Get up, sir,' he said.

"The lad looked at him to see if he was in earnest; then he cast his
eyes toward the large boys to see if they were not going to take up his
defense.

"'Get up, sir,' said the teacher a second time, and he took him by the
collar of his jacket as if to raise him. The lad saw he had no common
man to deal with, and he rose from his seat.

"'Follow me, sir,' calmly spoke the teacher, and he led the way toward
the hall, while the boy began to tremble, wondering if the new teacher
was going to take him out and kill him. The primary department was
presided over by a sister of the new teacher, and into this room he led
the young transgressor.

"Turning to his sister he said: 'I have a pupil for you; select a seat
for him, and let him remain here. If he makes any disturbance whatever,
inform me.' Turning to the boy he said: 'Young man, mind your teacher,
and do not leave your seat until I give permission,' and he was gone.

"The lad sat there, feeling very sheepish, and as misery loves company,
it was not long before he was gratified to see the door open and observe
his seat-mate enter with the new teacher, who repeated the previous
orders, when he quietly and with dignity withdrew.

"The number was subsequently increased to three, the teacher returning
each time without a word to the other scholars concerning the
disposition made of the refractory lads. The effect upon the rest of the
school was remarkable. As no intimation of the disposition of the boys
was given, not a shade of anger displayed on the countenance of the new
teacher, nor any appearances of blood were noticeable upon his hands,
speculation was rife as to what he had done with the three chaps. He
spoke kindly to all, smiled upon the scholars who did well in their
classes, and seemed to inspire all present with the truth of his remarks
uttered at the opening of the session.

"At recess the mystery that had enveloped the school was cleared away,
for the three lads in the primary department were seen as the rest of
the scholars filed by the door. While all the rest enjoyed the recess,
the three lads were obliged to remain in their seats, and when school
was dismissed for the forenoon, the new teacher entered the
primary-room, and was alone with the young offenders. He sat down by
them, and like a father talked kindly and gave good advice. No parent
ever used more fitting words nor more impressed his offspring with the
fitness thereof than did the new teacher. Dismissing them, he told them
to go home, and when they returned to school to be good boys.

"That afternoon the boys were in their seats, and in two weeks' time
there was not a scholar in the room who would not do anything the
teacher asked. He was beloved by all, and his quiet manner and cool,
dignified ways made him a great favorite. He only taught two terms, and
every reasonable inducement was offered to prevail upon him to remain,
but without avail. His reply was: "I have accomplished all I intended,
namely, conquered what you thought was a wild lot of boys, and received
the discipline that I required. I regret leaving my charge, for I have
learned to love them, but I am to enter a law office at once."

"That teacher was Chester A. Arthur, now President of the United States;
the teacher of the primary department was his sister, now Mrs.
Haynesworth, and the first of the three refractory boys was the writer.
When it was announced that our beloved teacher was to leave us, many
tears were shed by his scholars, and as a slight token of our love, we
presented him with an elegant volume of poems."




CHAPTER XVII.

LIFE IN COLLEGE.


Probably young Garfield never passed two happier or more profitable
years than at Williams College. The Seminaries he had hitherto attended
were respectable, but in the nature of things they could not afford the
facilities which he now enjoyed. Despite his years of study and struggle
there were many things in which he was wholly deficient. He had studied
Latin, Greek, and mathematics, but of English literature he knew but
little. He had never had time to read for recreation, or for that higher
culture which is not to be learned in the class-room.

In the library of Williams College he made his first acquaintance with
Shakespeare, and we can understand what a revelation his works must have
been to the aspiring youth. He had abstained from reading fiction,
doubting whether it was profitable, since the early days when with a
thrill of boyish excitement he read "Sinbad the Sailor" and Marryatt's
novels. After a while his views as to the utility of fiction changed. He
found that his mind was suffering from the solid food to which it was
restricted, and he began to make incursions into the realm of poetry and
fiction with excellent results. He usually limited this kind of reading,
and did not neglect for the fascination of romance those more solid
works which should form the staple of a young man's reading.

It is well known that among poets Tennyson was his favorite, so that in
after years, when at fifteen minutes' notice, on the first anniversary
of Lincoln's assassination, he was called upon to move an adjournment of
the House, as a mark of respect to the martyred President, he was able
from memory to quote in his brief speech, as applicable to Lincoln, the
poet's description of some

  "Divinely gifted man,
  Whose life in low estate began,
  And on a simple village green,
    Who breaks his birth's invidious bars,
  And grasped the skirts of happy chance,
  And breasts the blows of circumstance,
    And grapples with his evil stars;
  Who makes by force his merit known,
    And lives to clutch the golden keys
    To mould a mighty state's decrees,
  And shape the whisper of the throne;
  And moving up from high to higher,
    Becomes on Fortune's crowning slope
    The pillar of a people's hope,
  The center of a world's desire."

I am only repeating the remark made by many when I call attention to the
fitness of this description to Garfield himself.

Our young student was fortunate in possessing a most retentive memory.
What he liked, especially in the works of his favorite poet, was so
impressed upon his memory that he could recite extracts by the hour.
This will enable the reader to understand how thoroughly he studied, and
how readily he mastered, those branches of knowledge to which his
attention was drawn. When in after years in Congress some great public
question came up, which required hard study, it was the custom of his
party friends to leave Garfield to study it, with the knowledge that in
due time he would be ready with a luminous exposition which would supply
to them the place of individual study.

Young Garfield was anxious to learn the language of Goethe and
Schiller, and embraced the opportunity afforded at college to enter upon
the study of German. He was not content with a mere smattering, but
learned it well enough to converse in it as well as to read it.

So most profitably the Junior year was spent, but unhappily James had
spent all the money which he had brought with him. Should he leave
college to earn more? Fortunately, this was not necessary. Thomas
Garfield, always unselfishly devoted to the family, hoped to supply his
younger brother with the necessary sum, in installments; but proving
unable, his old friend, Dr. Robinson, came to his assistance.

"You can pay me when you are able, James," he said.

"If I live I will pay you, doctor. If I do not--"

He paused, for an idea struck him.

"I will insure my life for eight hundred dollars," he continued, "and
place the policy in your hands. Then, whether I live or die, you will be
secure."

"I do not require this, James," said the doctor kindly.

"Then I feel all the more under obligations to secure you in return for
your generous confidence."

It was a sensible and business-like proposal, and the doctor assented.
The strong, vigorous young man had no difficulty in securing a policy
from a reputable company, and went back to college at the commencement
of the Senior year. I wish to add that the young man scrupulously repaid
the good doctor's timely loan, for had he failed to do so, I could not
have held him up to my young readers as in all respects a model.

There was published at Williams College, in Garfield's time, a magazine
called the _Williams Quarterly_. To this the young man became a frequent
contributor. In Gen. James S. Brisbin's campaign Life of Garfield, I
find three of his poetic contributions quoted, two of which I will also
transfer to my pages, as likely to possess some interest for my young
reader. The first is called

"THE CHARGE OF THE TIGHT BRIGADE,"

and commences thus:

  "Bottles to right of them,
  Bottles to left of them,
  Bottles in front of them,
    Fizzled and sundered;
  Ent'ring with shout and yell,
  Boldly they drank and well,
  They caught the Tartar then;
  _Oh, what a perfect sell!_
    Sold--the half hundred!
  Grinned all the dentals bare,
  Swung all their caps in air,
  Uncorking bottles there,
  Watching the Freshmen, while
    Every one wondered;
  Plunged in tobacco smoke,
  With many a desperate stroke,
  Dozens of bottles broke;
  Then they came back, but not,
    Not the half hundred!"

Lest from this merry squib, which doubtless celebrated some college
prank, wrong conclusions should be drawn, I hasten to say that in
college James Garfield neither drank nor smoked.

The next poem is rather long, but it possesses interest as a serious
production of one whose name has become a household word. It is entitled

"MEMORY.

  "'Tis beauteous night; the stars look brightly down
  Upon the earth, decked in her robe of snow.
  No light gleams at the window save my own,
  Which gives its cheer to midnight and to me.
  And now with noiseless step sweet Memory comes,
  And leads me gently through her twilight realms.
  What poet's tuneful lyre has ever sung,
  Or delicatest pencil e'er portrayed
  The enchanted, shadowy land where Memory dwells?
  It has its valleys, cheerless, lone, and drear,
  Dark-shaded by the lonely cypress tree.
  And yet its sunlit mountain tops are bathed
  In heaven's own blue. Upon its craggy cliffs,
  Robed in the dreamy light of distant years,
  Are clustered joys serene of other days;
  Upon its gently sloping hillside's bank
  The weeping-willows o'er the sacred dust
  Of dear departed ones; and yet in that land,
  Where'er our footsteps fall upon the shore,
  They that were sleeping rise from out the dust
  Of death's long, silent years, and round us stand,
  As erst they did before the prison tomb
  Received their clay within its voiceless halls.

  "The heavens that bend above that land are hung
  With clouds of various hues; some dark and chill,
  Surcharged with sorrow, cast their sombre shade
  Upon the sunny, joyous land below;
  Others are floating through the dreamy air,
  White as the falling snow, their margins tinged
  With gold and crimson hues; their shadows fall
  Upon the flowery meads and sunny slopes,
  Soft as the shadows of an angel's wing.
  When the rough battle of the day is done,
  And evening's peace falls gently on the heart,
  I bound away across the noisy years,
  Unto the utmost verge of Memory's land,
  Where earth and sky in dreamy distance meet,
  And Memory dim with dark oblivion joins;
  Where woke the first remembered sounds that fell
  Upon the ear in childhood's early morn;
  And wandering thence along the rolling years,
  I see the shadow of my former self
  Gliding from childhood up to man's estate.
  The path of youth winds down through many a vale,
  And on the brink of many a dread abyss,
  From out whose darkness comes no ray of light,
  Save that a phantom dances o'er the gulf,
  And beckons toward the verge. Again, the path
  Leads o'er a summit where the sunbeams fall;
  And thus, in light and shade, sunshine and gloom,
  Sorrow and joy, this life-path leads along."

During the year 1856 young Garfield was one of the editors of the
college magazine, from which the above extracts are made. The hours
spent upon his contributions to its pages were doubtless well spent.
Here, to use his own words, he learned "to hurl the lance and wield the
sword and thus prepare for the conflict of life." More than one whose
names have since become conspicuous contributed to it while under his
charge. Among these were Professor Chadbourne, S.G.W. Benjamin, Horace
E. Scudder, W.R. Dimmock, and John Savary. The last-named, now resident
in Washington, has printed, since his old friend's death, a series of
sonnets, from which I quote one:

  "How many and how great concerns of state
    Lie at the mercy of the meanest things!
    This man, the peer of presidents and kings;
  Nay, first among them, passed through dangers gate
  In war unscathed, and perils out of date,
    To meet a fool whose pistol-shot yet rings
    Around the world, and at mere greatness flings
  The cruel sneer of destiny or fate!
  Yet hath he made the fool fanatic foil
    To valor, patience, nobleness, and wit!
    Nor had the world known, but because of it,
  What virtues grow in suffering's sacred soil.
    The shot which opened like a crack of hell,
    Made all hearts stream with sacred pity's well
    And showed that unity in which we dwell."




CHAPTER XVIII.

THE CANAL-BOY BECOMES A COLLEGE PRESIDENT.


During his second winter vacation a great temptation assailed James. It
was not a temptation to do wrong. That he could easily have resisted.

I must explain.

At Prestenkill, a country village six miles from Troy, N.Y., the young
student organized a writing school, to help defray his expenses. Having
occasion to visit Troy, his interest in education led him to form an
acquaintance with some of the teachers and directors of the public
schools.

One of these gentlemen, while walking with him over the sloping sides of
a hill overlooking the city, said: "Mr. Garfield, I have a proposition
to make to you."

The student listened with interest.

"There is a vacancy in one of our public schools. We want an experienced
teacher, and I am sure you will suit us. I offer you the place, with a
salary of twelve hundred dollars a year. What do you say?"

The young man's heart beat for a moment with repressible excitement. It
was a strong temptation. He was offered, deducting vacations, about one
hundred and twenty-five dollars a month, while heretofore his highest
wages had been but eighteen dollars per month and board. Moreover, he
could marry at once the young lady to whom he had been for years
engaged.

He considered the offer a moment, and this was his answer:

"You are not Satan and I am not Jesus, but we are upon the mountain, and
you have tempted me powerfully. I think I must say, 'Get thee behind
me!' I am poor, and the salary would soon pay my debts and place me in a
position of independence; but there are two objections. I could not
accomplish my resolution to complete a college course, and should be
crippled intellectually for life. Then, my roots are all fixed in Ohio,
where people know me and I know them, and this transplanting might not
succeed as well in the long run as to go back home and work for smaller
pay."

So the young man decided adversely, and it looks as if his decision was
a wise one. It is interesting to conjecture what would have been his
future position had he left college and accepted the school then offered
him. He might still have been a teacher, well known and of high repute,
but of fame merely local, and without a thought of the brilliant destiny
he had foregone.

So he went back to college, and in the summer of 1856 he graduated,
carrying off the highest honor--the metaphysical oration. His class was
a brilliant one. Three became general officers during the
rebellion--Garfield, Daviess, and Thompson. Rockwell's name is well
known in official circles; Gilfillan is Treasurer of the United States.
There are others who fill prominent positions. In the class above him
was the late Hon. Phineas W. Hitchcock, who for six years represented
Nebraska in the United States Senate--like Garfield, the architect of
his own fortunes.

"What are your plans, Garfield?" asked a classmate but a short time
before graduation.

"I am going back to Ohio, to teach in the school where I prepared for
college."

"What is the name of the school?"

"Hiram Institute."

"I never heard of it."

"It has only a local reputation."

"Will you get a high salary?"

"No; the institute is poor, and can pay me but little."

"I think you are making a mistake."

"Why so?"

"You are our best scholar, and no one can rival you in speaking in the
societies. You should study law, and then go to one of our large cities
and build up a reputation, instead of burying yourself in an
out-of-the-way Ohio town, where you may live and die without the world
hearing of you."

"Thank you for your good opinion of me. I am not sure whether I deserve
it, but if I do, I shall come to the surface some day. Meanwhile, to
this humble school (it was not yet a college) I owe a large debt of
gratitude. I am under a promise to go back and do what I can to pay that
debt."

"In doing so you may sacrifice your own prospects."

"I hope not. At any rate, my mind is made up."

"Oh, well, in that case I will say no more. I know that if your mind is
made up, you are bound to go. Only, years hence you will think of my
warning."

"At any rate," said Garfield, cordially, "I shall bear in mind the
interest you have shown in me. You may be right--I admit that--but I
feel that it is my duty to go."

I doubt whether any man of great powers can permanently bury himself, no
matter how obscure the position which he chooses. Sooner or later the
world will find him out, and he will be lifted to his rightful place.
When General Grant occupied a desk in the office of a lawyer in St.
Louis, and made a precarious living by collecting bills, it didn't look
as if Fame had a niche for him; but occasion came, and lifted him to
distinction. So I must confess that the young graduate seemed to be
making a mistake when, turning his back upon Williams College, he sought
the humble institution where he had taught, as a pupil-teacher, two
years before, and occupied a place as instructor, with an humble salary.
But even here there was promotion for him. A year later, at the age of
twenty-six, he was made president of the institution. It was not,
perhaps, a lofty position, for though Hiram Institute now became Hiram
College, it was not a college in the New England sense, but rather a
superior academy.

Let us pause a minute and see what changes have taken place in ten
years.

At the age of sixteen Jimmy Garfield was glad to get a chance to drive a
couple of mules on the tow-path of the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal. The
ragged, homespun boy had disappeared. In his place we find James A.
Garfield, A.B., president of a Western college--a man of education and
culture. And how has this change been brought about! By energy,
perseverance, and a resolute purpose--a soul that poverty could not
daunt, an ambition which shrank from no hardship, and no amount of
labor. They have been years of toil, for it takes time to transform a
raw and ignorant country lad into a college president; but the toil has
not harmed him--the poverty has not cramped him, nor crippled his
energies. "Poverty is very inconvenient," he said on one occasion, in
speaking of those early years, "but it is a fine spur to activity, and
may be made a rich blessing."

The young man now had an assured income; not a large one, but Hiram was
but an humble village. No fashionable people lived there. The people
were plain in their tastes, and he could live as well as the best
without difficulty. He was employed in a way that interested and pleased
him, and but one thing seemed wanting. His heart had never swerved from
the young lady with whom he first became acquainted at Geauga, to whom
he was more closely drawn at Hiram, and to whom now for some years he
had been betrothed. He felt that he could now afford to be married; and
so Lucretia Rudolph became Mrs. Garfield--a name loved and honored, for
her sake as well as his, throughout the length and breadth of our land.
She, too, had been busily and usefully employed in these intervening
years. As Mr. Philo Chamberlain, of Cleveland, has told us elsewhere,
she has been a useful and efficient teacher in one of the public schools
of that city. She has not been content with instructing others, but in
her hours of leisure has pursued a private course of study, by which her
mind has been broadened and deepened. If some prophetic instinct had
acquainted her with the high position which the future had in store for
her, she could have taken no fitter course to prepare herself to fulfil
with credit the duties which, twenty years after, were to devolve upon
her as the wife of the Chief Magistrate of the Union.

This was the wife that Garfield selected, and he found her indeed a
helper and a sympathizer in all his sorrows and joys. She has proved
equal to any position to which the rising fame of her husband lifted
her. Less than a year ago her husband said of her: "I have been
wonderfully blessed in the discretion of my wife. She is one of the
coolest and best-balanced women I ever saw. She is unstampedable. There
has not been one solitary instance in my public career when I suffered
in the smallest degree for any remark she ever made. It would have been
perfectly natural for a woman often to say something that could be
misinterpreted; but, without any design, and with the intelligence and
coolness of her character, she has never made the slightest mistake that
I ever heard of. With the competition that has been against me, such
discretion has been a real blessing."

Public men who have risen from humble beginnings often suffer from the
mistakes of wives who have remained stationary, and are unfitted to
sympathize with them in the larger life of their husbands. But as James
A. Garfield grew in the public esteem, and honors crowded upon him, step
by step his wife kept pace with him, and was at all times a fitting and
sympathetic companion and helpmeet.

They commenced housekeeping in a neat little cottage fronting the
college campus; and so their wedded life began. It was a modest home,
but a happy one, and doubtless both enjoyed more happy hours than in the
White House, even had the last sorrowful tragedy never been enacted. As
President, James A. Garfield belonged to the nation; as the head of
Hiram College, to his family. Greatness has its penalties, and a low
estate its compensations.




CHAPTER XIX.

GARFIELD AS A COLLEGE PRESIDENT.


When James Garfield presented himself at Hiram, an awkward, overgrown
boy of nineteen, in his rustic garb, and humbly asked for the position
of janitor and bell-ringer, suppose the trustees had been told, "In
seven years your institute will have developed into a college, and that
boy will be the president," we can imagine their amazement.

Yet it had all come true. Nowhere, perhaps, but in America could such a
thing have happened, and even here it seldom happens that such an upward
stride is made in so short a time.

After all, however, the important question to consider is, "What sort of
a college president did this humble canal-boy, who counted it promotion
when he was elected a janitor and bell-ringer, become?"

For information upon this point, we go to one of his pupils, Rev. I.L.
Darsie, of Danbury, Conn., who writes as follows:

"I attended the Western Reserve Institute when Garfield was principal,
and I recall vividly his method of teaching. He took very kindly to me,
and assisted me in various ways, because I was poor, and was janitor of
the buildings, and swept them out in the morning and built the fires, as
he had done only six years before, when he was a pupil in the same
college. He was full of animal spirits, and used to run out on the green
every day and play cricket with his scholars. He was a tall, strong man,
but dreadfully awkward. Every now and then he would get a hit, and he
muffed his ball and lost his hat as a regular thing.[A] He was
left-handed, too, and that made him seem all the clumsier. But he was
most powerful and very quick, and it was easy for us to understand how
it was that he had acquired the reputation of whipping all the other
mule-drivers on the canal, and of making himself the hero of that
thoroughfare, when he followed its tow-path, only ten years earlier.

[Footnote A: I have seen it somewhere stated that when a Congressman at
Washington he retained his interest in the game of base-ball, and always
was in attendance when it was possible, at a game between two
professional clubs.]

"No matter how old the pupils were, Garfield always called us by our
first names, and kept himself on the most intimate terms with all. He
played with us freely, and we treated him out of the class-room just
about as we did one another. Yet he was a most strict disciplinarian,
and enforced the rules like a martinet. He combined an affectionate and
confiding manner with respect for order in a most successful manner. If
he wanted to speak to a pupil, either for reproof or approbation, he
would generally manage to get one arm around him, and draw him close up
to him. He had a peculiar way of shaking hands, too, giving a twist to
your arm, and drawing you right up to him. This sympathetic manner has
helped him to advancement. When I was janitor, he used sometimes to stop
me, and ask my opinion about this and that, as if seriously advising
with me. I can see now that my opinion could not have been of any value,
and that he probably asked me partly to increase my self-respect and
partly to show that he felt an interest in me. I certainly was his
friend all the firmer for it.

"I remember once asking him what was the best way to pursue a certain
study.

"'Use several text-books,' he answered. 'Get the views of different
authors as you advance. In that way you can plow a deeper furrow. I
always study in that way.'

"He tried hard to teach us to observe carefully and accurately. He broke
out one day in the midst of a lesson with, 'Henry, how many posts are
there under the building down-stairs?' Henry expressed his opinion, and
the question went around the class, hardly any one getting it right.
Then it was, 'How many boot-scrapers are there at the door?' 'How many
windows in the building?' 'How many trees in the field?' He was the
keenest observer I ever saw. I think he noticed and numbered every
button on our coats. A friend of mine was walking with him through
Cleveland one day, when Garfield stopped and darted down a cellar-way,
asking his companion to follow, and briefly pausing to explain himself.
The sign, 'Saws and Files,' was over the door, and in the depths was
heard a regular clicking sound. 'I think this fellow is cutting files,'
said he, 'and I have never seen a file cut.

"Down they went, and, sure enough, there was a man recutting an old
file; and they stayed ten minutes, and found out all about the process.
Garfield would never go by anything without understanding it.

"Mr. Garfield was very fond of lecturing in the school. He spoke two or
three times a week, on all manner of topics, generally scientific,
though sometimes literary or historical. He spoke with great freedom,
never writing out what he had to say, and I now think that his lectures
were a rapid compilation of his current reading, and that he threw it
into this form partly for the purpose of impressing it upon his own
mind.

"His facility of speech was learned when he was a pupil at Hiram. The
societies had a rule that every student should take his stand on the
platform and speak for five minutes on any topic suggested at the moment
by the audience. It was a very trying ordeal. Garfield broke down badly
the first two times he tried to speak, but persisted, and was at last,
when he went to Williams, one of the best of the five-minute speakers.
When he returned as principal, his readiness was striking and
remarkable."

Henry James says: "Garfield taught me more than any other man, living
or dead, and, proud as I am of his record as a soldier and a statesman,
I can hardly forgive him for abandoning the academy and the forum."

So President Hinsdale, one of Garfield's pupils, and his successor as
president, testifies: "My real acquaintance with Garfield did not begin
till the fall of 1856, when he returned from Williams College. He then
found me out, drew near to me, and entered into all my troubles and
difficulties pertaining to questions of the future. In a greater or less
degree this was true of his relations to his pupils generally. There are
hundreds of these men and women scattered over the world to-day, who can
not find language strong enough to express their feeling in
contemplating Garfield as their old instructor, adviser, and friend.

"Since 1856 my relations with him have been as close and confidential as
they could be with any man, and much closer and more confidential than
they have been with any other man. I do not say that it would be
possible for me to know anybody better than I know him, and I know that
he possesses all the great elements of character in an extraordinary
degree. His interest in humanity has always been as broad as humanity
itself, while his lively interest in young men and women, especially if
they were struggling in narrow circumstances to obtain an education, is
a characteristic known as widely over the world as the footsteps of
Hiram boys and girls have wandered.

"The help that he furnished hundreds in the way of suggestions,
teaching, encouragement, inspiration, and stimulus was most valuable.
His power over students was not so much that of a drill-master, or
disciplinarian, as that of one who was able to inspire and energize
young people by his own intellectual and moral force."

An illustration of the interest he felt in his pupils may be given.

A student came to the president's study at the close of a college term
to bid him good-bye. After the good-bye was said, he lingered, and
Garfield said: "I suppose you will be back again in the fall, Henry?"

"No," he stammered, "I am not coming back to Hiram any more. Father says
I have got education enough, and that he needs me to work on the farm;
that education doesn't help a farmer along any."

He was a bright boy--not a prodigy, by any means, but one of those
strong, awkward, large-headed fellows, such as James Garfield had
himself been.

"Is your father here?" asked the young president, affected by the boy's
evident sorrow.

"Yes, father is here, and is taking my things home for good."

"Well, don't feel badly. Please tell him Mr. Garfield would like to see
him at his study before he leaves the college."

"Yes, sir, I will."

In half an hour the father, a sturdy farmer, entered the study and
awkwardly sat down.

"So you have come to take Henry home, have you?" asked the president.

"Yes," answered the farmer.

"I sent for you because I wanted to have a little talk with you about
Henry's future. He is coming back again in the fall, I hope?"

"Wal, I think not. I don't reckon I can afford to send him any more.
He's got eddication enough for a farmer already, and I notice that when
they git too much, they sorter git lazy. Yer eddicated farmers are
humbugs. Henry's got so far 'long now that he'd rather have his head in
a book than be workin'. He don't take no interest in the stock, nor in
the farm improvements. Everybody else is dependent in this world on the
farmer, and I think that we've got too many eddicated fellows settin'
'round now for the farmers to support."

To this Garfield answered that he was sorry for the father's decision,
since his son, if permitted to come the next term, would be far enough
advanced to teach school, and so begin to help himself along. Teaching
would pay better than working on the farm in the winter.

"Do you really think Henry can teach next winter?" asked the father, to
whom the idea was a new one.

"I should think so, certainly," answered Garfield. "But if he can not do
so then, he can in a short time."

"Wal, I will think on it. He wants to come back bad enough, and I guess
I'll have to let him. I never thought of it that way afore."

The victory was won. Henry came back the next term, and after finishing
at Hiram, graduated at an Eastern college.




CHAPTER XX.

GARFIELD BECOMES A STATE SENATOR.


Probably Garfield considered now that he was settled in life. He had
married the woman of his choice, set up a pleasant home, and was fully
occupied with a class of duties that suited him. Living frugally, he was
able to lay by a portion of his salary annually, and saw the way open,
if life and health continued, to a moderate prosperity. He seemed to be
a born teacher, and his life seemed likely to be passed in that pleasant
and tranquil office.

Many years before, while still unmarried, his mother had been a teacher,
and one of her experiences when so occupied was so remarkable that I can
not forbear quoting it:

"About the year 1820 she and her sister were left alone in the world,
without provision, so far as the inheritance or possession of property
was concerned. Preferring to live among relatives, one went to reside
with an uncle in Northern Ohio, and the other, Eliza, afterward Mrs.
Garfield, came to another uncle, the father of Samuel Arnold, who then
lived on a farm near Norwich, Muskingum County, Ohio. There Eliza Ballou
made her home, cheerfully helping at the house or in the field, as was
then sometimes the custom in a pioneer country. Having something more
than what at that day was an ordinary education, Eliza procured about
twenty pupils, and taught a summer school.

"The school-house was one of the most primitive kind, and stood in the
edge of dense and heavily-timbered woods. One day there came up a
fearful storm of wind and rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning.
The woods were badly wrecked, but the wind left the old log-house
uninjured. Not so the lightning. A bolt struck a tree that projected
closely over the roof, and then the roof itself. Some of the pupils were
greatly alarmed, and no doubt thought it the crack of doom, or the day
of judgment. The teacher, as calm and collected as possible, tried to
quiet her pupils and keep them in their places. A man who was one of the
pupils, in speaking of the occurrence, says that for a little while he
remembered nothing, and then he looked around, and saw, as he thought,
the teacher and pupils lying dead on the, floor. Presently the teacher
began to move a little. Then, one by one, the pupils got up, with a
single exception. Help, medical and otherwise, was obtained as soon as
possible for this one, but, though life was saved for a time, reason had
forever fled."

This was certainly a fearful experience for a young teacher.

It was while on a visit to her sister, already married, in Northern
Ohio, that Eliza made the acquaintance of Abram Garfield, the father of
the future President. In this neighborhood, while on a visit to his
relatives, at the age of seventeen, James obtained a school and taught
for a single term.

Having retraced our steps to record this early experience of James'
mother, we take the opportunity to mention an incident in the life of
her son, which was omitted in the proper place. The story was told by
Garfield himself during his last sickness to Mr. Crump, steward of the
White House.

"When I was a youngster," said the President, "and started for college
at Hiram, I had just fifteen dollars--a ten-dollar bill in an old,
black-leather pocketbook, which was in the breast pocket of my coat, and
the other five dollars was in my trowsers' pocket. I was walking along
the road, and, as the day was hot, I took off my coat and carried it on
my arm, taking good care to feel every moment or two of the pocketbook,
for the hard-earned fifteen dollars was to pay my entrance at the
college.

"After a while I got to thinking over what college life would be like,
and forgot all about the pocketbook for some time, and when I looked
again it was gone! I went back mournfully along the road, hunting on
both sides for the pocketbook. Presently I came to a house where a young
man was leaning over a gate, and he asked me when I came up what I was
hunting for. Upon my explaining my loss, and describing the pocketbook,
the young man handed it over. That young man," the President added,
turning to his devoted physician, "was Dr. Bliss. He saved me for
college."

"Yes," said the doctor, "and if I hadn't found your ten dollars you
wouldn't have become President of the United States."

Many a true word is spoken in jest. It might have happened that the boy
would have been so depressed by the loss of his money that he would have
given up his plan of going to Hiram and returned home to fill an humbler
place in the world.

But it is time to return from this digression and resume our narrative.

Devoted to his profession, young Garfield had given but little attention
to politics. But in the political campaign of 1857 and 1858 he became
interested in the exciting political questions which agitated the
community, and, taking the stump, he soon acquired the reputation of a
forcible and logical stump orator. This drew the attention of the voters
to him, and in 1859 he was tendered a nomination to the Ohio Senate from
the counties of Portage and Summit. His speeches during the campaign of
that year are said to have been warm, fresh, and impassioned, and he was
elected by a handsome majority.

This was the first entrance of the future President upon public life.
The session was not long, and the absence of a few weeks at Columbus
did not seriously interfere with his college duties.

In the Senate he at once took high rank. He was always ready to speak,
his past experience having made this easy. He took care to inform
himself upon the subjects which came up for legislation, and for this
reason he was always listened to with respectful attention. Moreover,
his genial manners and warmth of heart made him a general favorite among
all his fellow legislators, whether they belonged to his party or to the
opposition.

Again, in the session of 1860-61, being also a member of the Senate, he
took a prominent part in such measures as were proposed to uphold the
National Government, menaced by the representative men of the South. He
was among the foremost in declaring that the integrity of the Union must
be protected at all hazards, and declared that it was the right and duty
of the Government to coerce the seceded States.

When the President's call for seventy-five thousand men was made public,
and announcement was made to the Ohio Senate, Senator Garfield sprang to
his feet, and amid loud applause moved that "twenty thousand troops and
three millions of money" should be at once voted as Ohio's quota! He
closed his speech by offering his services to Governor Dennison in any
capacity.

This offer the Governor bore in mind, and on the 14th of August, 1861,
Garfield was offered the Lieutenant-Colonelcy of the Forty-second Ohio
regiment, which he had been instrumental in forming.

It was a serious moment for Garfield. The acceptance of this commission
would derange all his cherished plans. It would separate him from his
wife and child, and from the loved institution of which he was the head.
He must bid farewell to the calm, studious life, which he so much
enjoyed, and spend days and months in the camp, liable at any moment to
fall the victim of an enemy's bullet.

Suppose he should be killed? His wife would have no provision but the
small sum of three thousand dollars, which he had been able by great
economy to save from his modest salary.

He hesitated, but it was not for long. He was not a man to shrink from
the call of duty. Before moving he wrote to a friend:

"I regard my life as given to the country. I am only anxious to make as
much of it as possible before the mortgage on it is foreclosed."




CHAPTER XXI.

A DIFFICULT DUTY.


Having made up his mind to serve his country in the field, Garfield
immediately wrote to the Governor accepting the appointment.

The regiment to which he was assigned was recruited from the same
counties which he represented in the State Senate. A large number of the
officers and privates had been connected as students with Hiram College,
and were personally known to Garfield.

His first step was to qualify himself for his new position. Of the art
and mystery of war the young scholar knew little, but he was no worse
off than many another whom the exigencies of his country summoned from
peaceful pursuits to the tented field and the toilsome march. It was
probably the only office which he ever assumed without suitable
qualifications. But it was not in his nature to undertake any duties
without endeavoring to fit himself for their discharge.

His method of studying the art of war was curious and original. Falling
back on his old trade of carpenter, he brought "his saw and jack-plane
again into play, fashioned companies, officers and non-commissioned
officers out of maple blocks, and with these wooden-headed troops he
thoroughly mastered the infantry tactics in his quarters." There was
this advantage in his method, that his toy troops were thoroughly
manageable.

The next step was to organize a school for the officers of his regiment,
requiring thorough recitation in the tactics, while their teacher
illustrated the maneuvers by the blocks he had prepared for his own
instruction. He was obliged to begin with the officers, that they might
be qualified to assist him in instructing the men under their command.
He was then able to institute regimental, squad, skirmish, and bayonet
drill, and kept his men at these exercises from six to eight hours daily
till the Forty-second won the reputation of being the best drilled
regiment to be found in Ohio.

My boy readers will be reminded of the way in which he taught geometry
in one of his winter schools, preparing himself at night for the lesson
of the next day. I would like to call their attention also to the
thoroughness with which he did everything. Though previously ignorant of
military tactics he instructed his regiment in them thoroughly,
believing that whatever was worth doing at all was worth doing well.

He was appointed Lieutenant-Colonel, but by the time his organization
was completed he was promoted to the Colonelcy.

At last the preliminary work was completed. His men, an undisciplined
body when he took them in hand, had become trained soldiers, but as yet
they had not received what Napoleon III. called the "baptism of fire."
It is all very well to march and countermarch, and practice the ordinary
evolutions like militia-men at a muster, but how was the regiment, how
was its scholarly commander likely to act in the field?

On the 14th of December orders for the field were received by Colonel
Garfield's command, stationed at Camp Chase.

Then came the trial of parting with wife and mother and going forth to
battle and danger. To his mother, whose highest ambition had been that
her son should be a scholar, it was doubtless a keen disappointment that
his settled prospects should be so broken up; but she, too, was
patriotic, and she quietly said: "Go, my son, your life belongs to your
country."

Colonel Garfield's orders were to report to General Buell at Louisville.
He moved his regiment by way of Cincinnati to Catlettsburg, Kentucky, a
town at the junction of the Big Sandy and the Ohio, and was enabled to
report to his commander on the 19th of December.

Then, for the first time, he learned what was the nature of the duty
that was assigned to him. It was no less than to save Kentucky to the
Union. A border State, with an interest in slavery, public opinion was
divided, and it was uncertain to which side it would incline. The
Confederates understood the value of the prize, and they had taken
measures, which promised to be successful, to wrest it from the Union.
The task had been committed to Gen. Humphrey Marshall, who had invaded
Eastern Kentucky from the Virginia border, and had already advanced as
far north as Prestonburg.

Gen. Marshall fortified a strong natural position near Paintville, and
overran the whole Piedmont region. This region contained few slaves--but
one in twenty-five of the whole population. It was inhabited by a brave
rural population, more closely resembling their Northern than their
Southern neighbors. Among these people Marshall sent stump orators to
fire them with enthusiasm for the Confederate cause. Such men would make
valuable soldiers and must be won over if possible.

So all that portion of the State was in a ferment. It looked as if it
would be lost to the Union. Marshall was daily increasing the number of
his forces, preparing either to intercept Buell, and prevent his advance
into Tennessee, or, cutting off his communications, with the assistance
of Beauregard, to crush him between them.

To Colonel Garfield, an inexperienced civilian, who had only studied
military tactics by the aid of wooden blocks, and who had never been
under fire, it was proposed to meet Marshall, a trained soldier, to
check his advance, and drive him from the State. This would have been
formidable enough if he had been provided with an equal number of
soldiers; but this was far from being the case. He had but twenty-five
hundred men to aid him in his difficult work, and of these eleven
hundred, under Colonel Craven, were a hundred miles away, at Paris,
Kentucky, and this hundred miles was no level plain, but a rough,
mountainous country, infested with guerrillas and occupied by a disloyal
people.

Of course, the first thing to be done was to connect with Colonel
Craven, but, considering the distance and the nature of the country to
be traversed, it was a most difficult problem. The chances were that
Gen. Marshall, with his vastly superior force, would attack the two
bodies of soldiers separately, and crush them before a union could be
effected.

Gen. Buell explained how matters stood to the young colonel of
volunteers, and ended thus:

"That is what you have to do, Colonel Garfield--drive Marshall from
Kentucky, and you see how much depends on your action. Now go to your
quarters, think of it overnight, and come here in the morning and tell
me how you will do it."

In college Garfield had been called upon to solve many difficult
problems in the higher mathematics, but it is doubtful whether he ever
encountered a more knotty problem than this one.

He and Colonel Craven represented two little boys of feeble strength,
unable to combine their efforts, who were called upon to oppose and
capture a big boy of twice their size, who knew a good deal more about
fighting than they did.

No wonder the young colonel felt perplexed. But he did not give up. It
was not his way. He resolved to consider whether anything could be done,
and what.

My chief object in writing this volume being to commend its subject as
an example for boys, I think it right to call attention to this trait
which he possessed in a conspicuous degree. Brought face to face with
difficulty--with what might almost be called the impossible, he did not
say, "Oh, I can't do it. It is impossible." He went home to devise a
plan.

First of all, it was important that he should know something of the
intervening country--its conformation, its rivers and streams, if there
were any. So, on his way to his room he sought a book-store and bought
a rude map of Kentucky, and then, shutting himself up in his room, while
others were asleep, he devoted himself to a lesson in geography. With
more care than he had ever used in school, he familiarized himself with
the geography of the country in which he was to operate, and then set
himself to devise some feasible plan of campaign.

It was a hard problem, and required still more anxious thought, because
the general to whom he was to report it, was, unlike himself, a man
thoroughly trained in the art of war.

The next morning, according to orders, he sought again his commanding
officer.

Gen. Buell was a man of great reticence and severe military habits, and
if the plan were weak or foolish, as might well be from the utter lack
of experience of the young officer who was to make it, he would
unhesitatingly say so.

As Garfield laid his rude map and roughly outlined plan on the table,
and explained his conception of the campaign, he watched anxiously to
see how Gen. Buell was impressed by it. But the general was a man who
knew how to veil his thoughts. He waited in silence till Garfield had
finished, only asking a brief question now and then, and at the end,
without expressing his opinion one way or the other, merely said:
"Colonel Garfield, your orders will be sent you at six o'clock this
evening."

Garfield was not compelled to wait beyond that hour.

Promptly the order came, organizing the Eighteenth Brigade of the Army
of the Ohio, under the command of Colonel Garfield, with a letter of
instructions, embodying essentially the plan submitted by the young
officer in the morning.

When Garfield set out with his command the next morning, Gen. Buell said
to him at parting:

"Colonel, you will be at so great a distance from me, and communication
will be so difficult, that I must commit all matters of detail and much
of the fate of the campaign to your discretion. I shall hope to hear a
good account of you."




CHAPTER XXII.

JOHN JORDAN'S DANGEROUS JOURNEY.


Col. Garfield had already sent on his regiment in advance to Louisa,
twenty-eight miles up the Big Sandy.

There he joined them on the 24th, having waited at Catlettsburg only
long enough to forward to them necessary supplies.

The arrival of the regiment was opportune, for the district was
thoroughly alarmed. A regiment had been stationed there--the Fourteenth
Kentucky--but had hastily retreated to the mouth of the river during the
night of the 19th, under the impression that Marshall was advancing with
his forces to drive them into the Ohio. It was a false alarm, but the
Union citizens were very much alarmed, and were preparing with their
families to cross the river for safety. With the appearance of
Garfield's regiment a feeling of security returned.

I am anxious to make plain to my boy readers the manner in which the
young colonel managed his campaign. I think they will have no difficulty
in understanding that Garfield had two very difficult things to
accomplish. Colonel Craven knew nothing of Garfield's advance, nor of
his plans. It was necessary to inform him. Again, if possible, a
junction must be effected. The first was difficult, because the
intervening country was infested with roving bands of guerrillas, and a
messenger must take his life in his hands. How, again, could a junction
be effected in the face of a superior enemy, liable to fall upon either
column and crush it?

Obviously the first thing was to find a messenger.

Garfield applied to Col. Moore of the Fourteenth Kentucky, and made
known his need.

"Have you a man," he asked, "who will die rather than fail or betray
us?"

"Yes," answered the Kentuckian, after a pause, "I think I have. His name
is John Jordan, and he comes from the head of the Blaine."

This was a small stream which entered the Big Sandy, a short distance
from the town.

At the request of Garfield, Jordan was sent for. In a short time he
entered the tent of the Union commander.

This John Jordan was a remarkable man, and well known in all that
region. He was of Scotch descent, and possessed some of the best traits
of his Scotch ancestry. He was a born actor, a man of undoubted courage,
fertile in expedients, and devoted to the Union cause.

Garfield was a judge of men, and he was impressed in the man's favor at
first sight. He describes Jordan as a tall, gaunt, sallow man, about
thirty years of age, with gray eyes, a fine falsetto voice, and a face
of wonderful expressiveness. To the young colonel he was a new type of
man, but withal a man whom he was convinced that he could trust.

"Why did you come into this war?" he asked, with some curiosity.

"To do my share, colonel, and I've made a bargain with the Lord. I gave
Him my life to start with, and if He has a mind to take it, it's His.
I've nothing to say agin it."

"You mean you have come into the war, not expecting to get out of it
alive?"

"Yes, colonel."

"You know what I want you to do. Will you die rather than let this
dispatch be taken?"

"I will."

Garfield looked into the man's face, and he read unmistakable sincerity.

He felt that the man could be trusted, and he said so.

The dispatch was written upon tissue paper. It was then rolled into the
form of a bullet, coated with warm lead, and given into the hands of the
messenger. He was provided with a carbine and a brace of revolvers, and
when the moon was down, he mounted his horse in the darkness and set out
on his perilous journey.

It would not do to ride in the daytime, for inevitably he would be
stopped, or shot down. By day he must hide in the woods, and travel only
at night.

His danger was increased by the treachery of one of his own comrades of
the Fourteenth Kentucky, and he was followed by a band of guerrillas in
the Confederate interest. Of this, however, Jordan was not apprised, and
supposing himself secure he sought shelter and concealment at the house
of a man whom he knew to be loyal. Near enough to see, but not to be
seen, the guerrillas waited till the tired messenger was sleeping, and
then coming boldly out of the woods, surrounded the house.

In a fright the good housewife ran up to his chamber, and shook the
sleeping man.

"Wake for your life!" she said. "The guerrillas are outside, clamoring
for you. I have locked the doors, but I can not keep them out long."

Jordan had thrown himself on the bed with his clothes on. He knew that
he was liable to be surprised, and in such an event time was most
valuable. Though awakened from a sound sleep, he had all his wits about
him.

"Thank you," said he. "I have a favor to ask in the name of our cause."

"Be quick, then," said the woman. "They are bursting open the door."

"Take this bullet. It contains a secret dispatch, which, if I am killed,
I enjoin upon you to convey to Colonel Craven, at Paris. Will you do
it?"

"If I can."

"Then I am off."

The door burst open, but he made a sudden dash, and escaped capture. He
headed for the woods, amid a volley of bullets, but none of them reached
him. Once he turned round, and fired an answering shot. He did not stop
to see if it took effect, but it was the messenger of Death. One of the
guerrillas reeled, and measured his length upon the ground, dead in a
moment.

Fleet as a deer the brave scout pushed on till he got within the
protecting shadows of the friendly woods. There they lost the trail, and
though he saw them from his place of concealment, he was himself unseen.

"Curse him!" said the disappointed leader. "He must have sunk into the
earth, or vanished into the air."

"If he's sunk into the earth, that is where we want him," answered
another, with grim humor.

"You will find I am not dead yet!" said the hidden scout to himself. "I
shall live to trouble you yet."

He passed the remainder of the day in the woods, fearing that his
pursuers might still be lingering about.

"If there were only two or three, I'd come out and face 'em," he said,
"but the odds are too great. I must skulk back in the darkness, and get
back the bullet."

Night came on, and the woman who had saved him, heard a low tapping at
the door. It might be an enemy, and she advanced, and opened it with
caution. A figure, seen indistinctly in the darkness, stood before her.

"Who are you?" she asked doubtfully.

"Don't be afraid, ma'am, it's only me."

"And you--"

"Are the man you saved this morning!"

"God be thanked! Then you were not killed?"

"Do I look like a dead man? No, my time hasn't come yet. I foiled 'em in
the wood, and there I have spent all day. Have you any victuals, for I
am famished?"

"Yes, come in."

"I can not stay. I will take what you have and leave at once, for the
villains may be lurkin' round here somewhere. But first, the bullet!
have you that safe?"

"Here it is."

The scout put it in his pocket, and taking in his hand a paper box of
bread and meat which his loyal hostess brought him, resumed his
hazardous journey.

He knew that there were other perils to encounter, unless he was
particularly fortunate, but he had a heart prepared for any fate. The
perils came, but he escaped them with adroitness, and at midnight of the
following day he was admitted into the presence of Colonel Craven.

Surely this was no common man, and his feat was no common one.

In forty-eight hours, traveling only by night, he had traversed one
hundred miles with a rope round his neck, and without the prospect of
special reward. For he was but a private, and received but a private's
pay--thirteen dollars a month, a shoddy uniform, and hard-tack, when he
could get it.

Colonel Craven opened the bullet, and read the dispatch.

It was dated "Louisa, Kentucky, December 24, midnight"; and directed h

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