Not far from where I write is a tall gray stone monument, in the form of a circular tower, lined with various polished marbles, and exquisite stained-glass windows. It stands on a hill-top in the centre of three acres of green lawn, looking out upon blue Lake Erie and the busy city of Cleveland, Ohio.

Within this tower rests the body of one whom the nation honors, and will honor in all time to come; one who was nurtured in the wilderness that he might have a sweet, natural boyhood; who studied in the school of poverty that he might sympathize with the sons of toil; who grew to an ideal manhood, that other American boys might learn the lessons of a grand life, and profit by them.

In the little town of Orange, Ohio, James Abram Garfield was born, November 19, 1831. The home into which he came was a log cabin, twenty by thirty feet, made of unhewn logs, laid one upon another, to the height of twelve feet or more, the space between the logs being filled with clay or mud. Three other children were in this home in the forest already; Mehetabel, Thomas, and Mary.

Abram, the father, descended from Revolutionary ancestors, was a strong-bodied, strong-brained man, who moved from Worcester, Otsego County, New York, to test his fortune in the wilderness. In his boyhood, he had played with Eliza Ballou, descended from Maturin Ballou, a Huguenot, from France. She also at fourteen moved with her family from New Hampshire, into the Ohio wilderness. Abram was more attracted to Ohio for that reason. They renewed the affection of their childhood, and were married February 3, 1821, settling first in Newburg, near Cleveland, and later buying eighty acres in Orange, at two dollars an acre. Here their four children were born, seven miles from any other cabin.

When the boy James was eighteen months old, a shadow settled over the home in the woods. A fire broke out in the forest, threatening to sweep away the Garfield cabin. For two hours one hot July day the father fought the flames, took a severe cold, and died suddenly, saying to his wife, "I have planted four saplings in these woods; I must now leave them to your care." He had kept his precious ones from being homeless, only to leave them fatherless. Who would have thought then that one of these saplings would grow into a mighty tree, admired by all the world?

In a corner of the wheat-field, in a plain box, the young husband was buried. What should the mother do with her helpless flock? "Give them away," said some of the relatives, or "bind them out in far-away homes."

"No," said the brave mother, and put her woman's hands to heavy work. She helped her boy Thomas, then nine years old, to split rails and fence in the wheat-field. She corded the wool of her sheep, wove the cloth, and made garments for her children. She sold enough land to pay off the mortgage, because she could not bear to be in debt, and then she and Mehetabel and Thomas ploughed and planted, and waited in faith and hope till the harvest came. When the food grew meagre she sang to her helpful children, and looked ever toward brighter days. And such days usually come to those who look for them.

It was not enough to widow Garfield that her children were decently clothed and fed in this isolated home. They must be educated; but how? A log school-house was finally erected, she wisely giving a corner of her farm for the site. The scholars sat on split logs for benches, and learned to read and write and spell as best they could from their ordinary teaching. James was now nearly three, and went and sat all day on the hard benches with the rest.

But a school-house was not sufficient for these New England pioneers; they must have a church building where they could worship. Mrs. Garfield loved her Bible, and had taught her children daily, so that James even knew its stories by heart, and many of its chapters. A church was therefore organized in the log school-house, and now they could work happily, year after year, wondering perchance what the future would bring.

James began to show great fondness for reading. As he lay on the cabin floor, by the big fireplace, he read by its light his "English Reader," "Robinson Crusoe" again and again, and, later, when he was twelve, "Josephus," and "Goodrich's History of the United States." He had worked on the farm for years; now he must earn some money for his mother by work for the neighbors. He had helped his brother Thomas in enlarging the house, and was sure that he could be a carpenter.

Going to a Mr. Trent, he asked for work.

"There is a pile of boards that I want planed," said the man, "and I will pay you one cent a board for planing."

James began at once, and at the end of a long day, to the amazement of Mr. Trent, he had planed one hundred boards, each over twelve feet long, and proudly carried home one dollar to his mother. After this he helped to build a barn and a shed for a potashery establishment for leeching ashes. The manufacturer of the "black-salts" seemed to take a fancy to the lad, and offered him work at nine dollars a month and his board, which James accepted. In the evenings he studied arithmetic and read books about the sea. This arrangement might have continued for some time had not the daughter of the salt-maker remarked one evening to her beau, as they sat in the room where James was reading, "I should think it was time for hired servants to be abed."

James had not realized how the presence of a third party is apt to restrain the confidential conversation of lovers. He was hurt and angered by the words, and the next day gave up his work, and went home to his mother, to receive her sympathy and find employment elsewhere. Doubtless he was more careful, all his life, from this circumstance, lest he wound the feelings of others.

Soon after this he heard that his uncle in Newburg was hiring wood-choppers. He immediately went to see him, and agreed to cut one hundred cords of wood, at twenty-five cents a cord. It was a man's work, but the boy of sixteen determined to do as much as a man. Each day he cut two cords, and at last carried twenty-five dollars to his mother; a small fortune, it seemed to the earnest boy.

While he chopped wood he looked out wistfully upon Lake Erie, recalled the sea stories which he had read, and longed more than ever to become a sailor. The Orange woods were growing too cramped for him. He was restless and eager for a broader life. It was the unrest of ambition, which voiced itself twenty years later in an address at Washington, D. C., to young men. "Occasion cannot make spurs, young men. If you expect to wear spurs, you must win them. If you wish to use them, you must buckle them to your own heels before you go into the fight. Any success you may achieve is not worth the having unless you fight for it. Whatever you win in life you must conquer by your own efforts; and then it is yours—a part of yourself.... Let not poverty stand as an obstacle in your way. Poverty is uncomfortable, as I can testify; but nine times out of ten the best thing that can happen to a young man is to be tossed overboard, and compelled to sink or swim for himself. In all my acquaintance I have never known one to be drowned who was worth saving.... To a young man who has in himself the magnificent possibilities of life, it is not fitting that he should be permanently commanded; he should be a commander. You must not continue to be employed; you must be an employer. You must be promoted from the ranks to a command. There is something, young men, that you can command; go and find it, and command it. You can at least command a horse and dray, can be generalissimo of them and may carve out a fortune with them."

Mrs. Garfield, with her mother's heart, deprecated a life at sea for her boy, and tried to dissuade him. Through the summer he worked in the hay-field, and then, the sea-fever returning, his mother wisely suggested that he seek employment on Lake Erie and see if he liked the life.

With his clothing wrapped in a bundle, he walked seventeen miles to Cleveland, with glowing visions of being a sailor. Reaching the wharf, he went on board a schooner, and asked for work. A drunken captain met him with oaths, and ordered him off the boat. The first phase of sea life had been different from what he had read in the books, and he turned away somewhat disheartened.

However, he soon met a cousin, who gave him the opportunity of driving mules for a canal boat. To walk beside slow mules was somewhat prosaic, as compared with climbing masts in a storm, but he accepted the position, receiving ten dollars a month and his board. Says William M. Thayer, in his "From Log-Cabin to the White House": "James appeared to possess a singular affinity for the water. He fell into the water fourteen times during the two or three months he served on the canal boat. It was not because he was so clumsy that he could not keep right side up, nor because he did not understand the business; rather, we think, it arose from his thorough devotion to his work. He gave more attention to the labor in hand than he did to his own safety. He was one who never thought of himself when he was serving another. He thought only of what he had in hand to do. His application was intense, and his perseverance royal."

After a few weeks he contracted fever and ague, and went home to be cared for by his mother, through nearly five months of illness. The sea-fever had somewhat abated. Could he not go to school again? urged the mother. Thomas and she could give him seventeen dollars; not much, to be sure, for some people, but much for the widow and her son.At last he decided to go to Geauga Seminary, at Chester; a decision which took him to the presidential chair. March 5, 1849, when he was eighteen, James and his cousins started on foot for Chester, carrying their housekeeping utensils, plates, knives and forks, kettle, and the like; for they must board themselves. A small room was hired for a pittance, four boys rooming together.

The seventeen dollars soon melted away, and James found work in a carpenter's shop, where he labored nights and mornings, and every Saturday. Though especially fond of athletic games, he had no time for these. The school library contained one hundred and fifty volumes; a perfect mine of knowledge it seemed to the youth from Orange. He read eagerly biography and history; joined the debating society, where, despite his awkward manners and poor clothes, his eloquence soon attracted attention; went home to see his mother at the end of the first term, happy and courageous, and returned with ninepence in his pocket, to renew the struggle for an education. The first Sunday, at church, he put this ninepence into the contribution box, probably feeling no poorer than before.

While at Chester, the early teaching of his mother bore fruit, in his becoming a Christian, and joining the sect called "Disciples." "Of course," said Garfield, years later, "that settled canal, and lake, and sea, and everything." A new life had begun—a life devoted to the highest endeavor.Each winter, while at Chester, he taught a district school, winning the love of the pupils by his enthusiasm and warm heart, and inciting them to study from his love of books. He played with them as though a boy like themselves, as he was, in reality, and yet demanded and received perfect obedience. He "boarded around," as was the custom, and thus learned more concerning both parents and pupils than was always desirable, probably; but in every house he tried to stimulate all to increased intelligence.

During his last term at the seminary, he met a graduate of a New England college, who urged that he also attend college; told how often men had worked their way through successfully, and had come to prominence. Young Garfield at once began to study Latin and Greek, and at twenty years of age presented himself at Hiram College, Ohio, a small institution at that time, which had been started by the "Disciples." He sought the principal, and asked to ring the bell and sweep the floors to help pay his expenses. He took a room with four other students, not a wise plan, except for one who has will enough to study whether his companions work or play, and rose at five in the morning, to ring his bell.

A lady who attended the college thus writes of him: "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 cannot 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 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....

"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 hand 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."

The college library contained about two thousand volumes, and here Garfield read systematically and topically, a habit which continued through life, and made him master of every subject which he touched. Tennyson's poetry became, like the Bible, his daily study.Mr. J. M. Bundy, in his Life of Garfield, said, years later, "His house at Washington is a workshop, in which the tools are always kept within immediate reach. Although books overrun his house from top to bottom, his library contains the working material on which he mainly depends. And the amount of material is enormous. Large numbers of scrap-books that have been accumulating for over twenty years in number and value—made up with an eye to what either is or may become useful, which would render the collection of priceless value to the library of any first-class newspaper establishment—are so perfectly arranged and indexed that their owner, with his all-retentive memory, can turn in a moment to the facts that may be needed for almost any conceivable emergency in debate. These are supplemented by diaries that preserve Garfield's multifarious, political, scientific, literary, and religious inquiries, studies, and readings. And, to make the machinery of rapid work complete, he has a large box, containing sixty-three different drawers, each properly labelled, in which he places newspaper cuttings, documents, and slips of paper, and from which he can pull out what he wants as easily as an organist can play on the stops of his instrument."

In Hiram College he formed an intellectual friendship with a fellow-student to whose inspiring help he testified gratefully to the end of his life; Miss Almeda A. Booth, eight years his senior, a brilliant and noble woman, pledged to "virgin widowhood" by the death of the young man to whom she was promised in marriage. Twenty years later, Garfield said, in a memorial address at Hiram College, "On my own behalf I take this occasion to say that for her generous and powerful aid, so often and so efficiently rendered, for her quick and never failing sympathy, and for her intelligent, unselfish, and unswerving friendship, I owe her a debt of gratitude and affection for the payment of which the longest term of life would have been too short.... I remember that she and I were members of the class that began Xenophon's 'Anabasis' in the fall of 1852. Near the close of that term I also began to teach in the Eclectic [College], and, thereafter, like her, could keep up my studies only outside of my own class hours. In mathematics and the physical sciences I was far behind her; but we were nearly at the same place in Greek and Latin, each having studied them about three terms. She had made her home at President Hayden's almost from the first; and I became a member of his family at the beginning of the winter term of 1852-53. Thereafter, for nearly two years, she and I studied together, and recited in the same classes (frequently without other associates) till we had nearly completed the classical course....

"During the fall of 1853 she read one hundred pages of Herodotus, and about the same of Livy. During that term, also, Professors Dunshee and Hull, Miss Booth, and I met at her room two evenings of each week to make a joint translation of the Book of Romans. Professor Dunshee contributed his studies of the German commentators De Wette and Tholuck; and each of the translators made some special study for each meeting. How nearly we completed the translation I do not remember; but I do remember that the contributions and criticisms of Miss Booth were remarkable for suggestiveness and sound judgment. Our work was more thorough than rapid, for I find this entry in my diary for December 15, 1853: 'Translation Society sat three hours at Miss Booth's room, and agreed upon the translation of nine verses.'

"During the winter term of 1853-54 she continued to read Livy, and also the whole of Demosthenes 'On the Crown.' During the spring term of 1854 she read the 'Germania' and 'Agricola' of Tacitus and a portion of Hesiod."

To Garfield she was another Margaret Fuller. "I venture to assert that in native powers of mind, in thoroughness and breadth of scholarship, in womanly sweetness of spirit, and in the quantity and quality of effective, unselfish work done, she has not been excelled by any American woman.... I can name twenty or thirty books which will forever be doubly precious to me because they were read and discussed in company with her.... She was always ready to aid any friend with her best efforts. When I was in the hurry of preparing for a debate with Mr. Denton, in 1858, she read not less than eight or ten volumes, and made admirable notes for me on those points which related to the topics of discussion. In the autumn of 1859 she read a large portion of Blackstone's 'Commentaries,' and enjoyed with keenest relish the strength of the author's thought and the beauty of his style. From the rich stores of her knowledge she gave with unselfish generosity. The foremost students had no mannish pride that made them hesitate to ask her assistance and counsel. In preparing their orations and debates they eagerly sought her suggestions and criticisms....

"It is quite probable that John Stuart Mill has exaggerated the extent to which his own mind and works were influenced by Harriet Mill. I should reject his opinion on that subject, as a delusion, did I not know from my own experience, as well as that of hundreds of Hiram students, how great a power Miss Booth exercised over the culture and opinions of her friends."

The influence of such a woman upon an intellectual young man can scarcely be estimated, or over-estimated. The world is richer and nobler for such women. Garfield never forgot her influence. The year he died, he said at a Williams College banquet held in Cleveland, January 10, 1881: "I am glad to say, reverently, in the presence of the many ladies here to-night, that I owe to a woman, who has long since been asleep, perhaps a higher debt intellectually than I owe to any one else. After that comes my debt to Williams College."

He used to say, "Give me a log hut with only a simple bench, Mark Hopkins on one end and I on the other, and you may have all the buildings, apparatus, and libraries without him."

After two years at Hiram College, Garfield decided to enter some eastern college, and wrote to Yale, Brown, and Williams. Their replies are shown in his letter to a friend at this time. "Their answers are now before me. All tell me I can graduate in two years. They are all brief business notes; but President Hopkins concludes with this sentence: 'If you come here, we shall be glad to do what we can for you.' Other things being so nearly equal, this sentence, which seems to be a kind of friendly grasp of the hand, has settled the question for me. I shall start for Williams next week." A kind sentence gave to Williams a distinguished honor for all coming years.

Garfield had not only paid his way while at Hiram, but he had saved three hundred and fifty dollars for his course at Williams. Here he earned money, as he had at Hiram, by teaching, and borrowed a few hundreds from Dr. J. P. Robinson of Cleveland, Ohio, offering a life insurance policy as security.

In college, says Dr. Hopkins, "as General Garfield was broad in his scholarship, so was he in his sympathies. No one thought of him as a recluse or as bookish. Not given to athletic sports, he was fond of them. His mind was open to the impression of natural scenery, and, as his constitution was vigorous, he knew well the fine points on the mountains around us. He was also social in his disposition, both giving and inspiring confidence. So true is this of his intercourse with the officers of the college, as well as with others, that he was never even suspected of anything low or trickish.... General Garfield gave himself to study with a zest and delight wholly unknown to those who find in it a routine. A religious man and a man of principle, he pursued of his own accord the ends proposed by the institution. He was prompt, frank, manly, social, in his tendencies; combining active exercise with habits of study, and thus did for himself what it is the object of a college to enable every young man to do,—he made himself a MAN."

When Garfield was at Williams, the slavery question had become the exciting topic of the day. Preston Brooks' attack on Charles Sumner had aroused the indignation of the students, who called a meeting, at which Garfield made an eloquent and powerful speech. At his graduation in 1856, when he was twenty-five, he delivered the metaphysical oration, the highest honor awarded. He now returned to Hiram College, having been appointed professor of Greek and Latin. At once he began his work with zest. He said later: "I have taken more solid comfort in the thing itself, and received more moral recompense and stimulus in after life from capturing young men for an education than from anything else in the world.

"As I look back over my life thus far, I think of nothing that so fills me with pleasure as the planning of these sieges, the revolving in my mind of plans for scaling the walls of the fortress; of gaining access to the inner soul-life, and at last seeing the besieged party won to a fuller appreciation of himself, to a higher conception of life and of the part he is to bear in it. The principal guards which I have found it necessary to overcome in gaining these victories are the parents or guardians of the young men themselves. I particularly remember two such instances of capturing young men from their parents. Both of those boys are to-day educators, of wide reputation,—one president of a college, the other high in the ranks of graded-school managers. Neither, in my opinion, would to-day have been above the commonest walks of life unless I, or some one else, had captured him. There is a period in every young man's life when a very small thing will turn him one way or the other. He is distrustful of himself, and uncertain as to what he should do. His parents are poor, perhaps, and argue that he has more education than they ever obtained, and that it is enough. These parents are sometimes a little too anxious in regard to what their boys are going to do when they get through with their college course. They talk to the young man too much, and I have noticed that the boy who will make the best man is sometimes most ready to doubt himself. I always remember the turning period in my own life, and pity a young man at this stage from the bottom of my heart. One of the young men I refer to came to me on the closing day of the spring term, and bade me good-by at my study. I noticed that he awkwardly lingered after I expected him to go, and had turned to my writing again.

"'I suppose you will be back again in the fall, Henry,' I said, to fill in the vacuum. He did not answer, and, turning toward him, I noticed that his eyes were filled with tears, and that his countenance was undergoing contortions of pain. He at length managed to stammer out, 'No, 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 don't help along a farmer any.'

"'Is your father here?' I asked, almost as much affected by the statement as the boy himself. He was a peculiarly bright boy,—one of those strong, awkward, bashful, blond, large-headed fellows, such as make men. He was not a prodigy by any means; but he knew what work meant, and, when he had won a thing by true endeavor, he knew its value.

"'Yes; father is here, and is taking my things home for good,' said the boy, more affected than ever.

"'Well, don't feel badly,' I said. 'Please tell him Mr. Garfield would like to see him at his study, before he leaves the village. Don't tell him that it is about you, but simply that I want to see him.' In the course of half an hour the old gentleman, a robust specimen of a Western Reserve Yankee, came into the room and awkwardly sat down. I knew something of the man before, and I thought I knew how to begin. I shot right at the bull's-eye immediately.

"'So you have come up to take Henry home with you, have you?' The old gentleman answered, 'Yes.' '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 hev 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 setting around now for the farmers to support.'

"'I am sorry to hear you talk so,' I said; 'for really I consider Henry one of the brightest and most faithful students I have ever had. I have taken a very deep interest in him. What I wanted to say to you was, that the matter of educating him has largely been a constant outgo thus far, but, if he is permitted to come next fall term, he will be far enough advanced so that he can teach school in the winter, and begin to help himself and you along. He can earn very little on the farm in the winter, and he can get very good wages teaching. How does that strike you?'

"The idea was a new and good one to him. He simply remarked, 'Do you really think he can teach next winter?'

"'I should think so, certainly,' I replied. 'But, if he cannot do so then, he can in a short time, anyhow.'

"'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.'

"I knew I was safe. It was the financial question that troubled the old gentleman, and I knew that would be overcome when Henry got to teaching, and could earn his money himself. He would then be so far along, too, that he could fight his own battles. He came all right the next fall, and, after finishing at Hiram, graduated at an eastern college."

One secret of Garfield's success in teaching was his deep interest in the young. He said, "I feel a profounder reverence for a boy than for a man. I never meet a ragged boy of the street without feeling that I may owe him a salute, for I know not what possibilities may be buttoned up under his shabby coat. When I meet you in the full flush of mature life, I see nearly all there is of you; but among these boys are the great men of the future, the heroes of the next generation, the philosophers, the statesmen, the philanthropists, the great reformers and moulders of the next age. Therefore, I say, there is a peculiar charm to me in the exhibitions of young people engaged in the business of an education."

He made himself a student with his students. He said: "I shall give you a series of lectures upon history, beginning next week. I do this not alone to assist you; the preparation for the lectures will compel me to study history."

He was always a worker. "When I get into a place that I can easily fill, I always feel like shoving out of it into one that requires of me more exertion."

His active mind was not content with teaching. He delivered lectures in the neighboring towns on geology, illustrated by charts of his own making; upon "Walter Scott;" Carlyle's "Frederick the Great;" the "Character of the German People;" government, and the topics of the times. He preached almost every Sabbath in some Disciple church. A year after his return from Williams he was promoted to the presidency of Hiram College.

In 1858, when he was twenty-seven, he married Lucretia Rudolph, whom he had known at Geauga Seminary, and who was his pupil in Latin and Greek at Hiram. He had been engaged to her four years previously, when he entered Williams, she being a year his junior. She was his companion in study, as well as domestic life, and helped him onward in his great career.

This same year, 1858, he entered his name as a student at law, with a Cleveland firm, carrying on his studies at home, and fitted himself for the bar in the usual time devoted by those who have no other work in hand.

The following year, having taken an active part in the Republican campaign for John C. Fremont for the presidency, Garfield was chosen State senator. The same year Williams College invited him to deliver the master's oration on Commencement day. On the journey thither, he visited Quebec, taking with his wife their first pleasure trip. Only eight years before this he was ringing the bell at Hiram. Promotion had come rapidly, but deservedly.

In the Legislature he naturally took a prominent part. Lincoln had been elected and had issued his call for seventy-five thousand men. Garfield, in an eloquent speech, moved, "That Ohio contribute twenty thousand men, and three million dollars, as the quota of the State." The motion was enthusiastically carried.

Governor Dennison appointed Garfield colonel of the Forty-second Ohio Regiment, and he left the Senate for the battlefield, nearly one hundred Hiram students enlisting under him. At once he began to study military tactics in earnest. He organized a school among the officers, and kept the men at drill till they were efficient in the art of war. January 10, 1862, he fought the battle of Middle Creek, with eleven hundred men, driving General Marshall out of Eastern Kentucky, with five thousand men. The battle raged for five hours, sometimes a desperate hand-to-hand fight. General Buell said in his official report of Garfield and his regiment: "They have overcome formidable difficulties in the character of the country, the condition of the roads, and the inclemency of the season, and, without artillery, have in several engagements, terminating in the battle of Middle Creek, driven the enemy from his intrenched positions and forced him back into the mountains, with the loss of a large amount of baggage and stores, and many of his men killed and captured. These services have called into action the highest qualities of a soldier—fortitude, perseverance, and courage." After this battle, President Lincoln made Garfield a brigadier-general.

Says Mr. Bundy: "Having cleared out Humphrey Marshall's forces, Garfield moved his command to Piketon, one hundred and twenty miles above the mouth of the Big Sandy, from which place he covered the whole region about with expeditions, breaking up rebel camps and perfecting his work. Finally, in that poor and wretched country, his supplies gave out, and, as usual, taking care of the most important matter himself, he went to the Ohio River for supplies, got them, seized a steamer, and loaded it. But there was an unprecedented freshet, navigation was very perilous, and no captain or pilot could be induced to take charge of the boat. Garfield at once availed himself of his canal-boat experience, took charge of the boat, stood at the helm for forty out of forty-eight hours, piloted the steamer through an untried channel full of dangerous eddies and wild currents, and saved his command from starvation."

Later, Garfield became chief of General Rosecrans' staff, was in the dreadful battle of Chickamauga, and was made major-general "for gallant and meritorious services" in that battle. Rosecrans said: "All my staff merited my warm approbation for ability, zeal, and devotion to duty; but I am sure they will not consider it invidious if I especially mention Brigadier-General Garfield, ever active, prudent, and sagacious. I feel much indebted to him for both counsel and assistance in the administration of this army. He possesses the energy and the instinct of a great commander."

In the summer of 1862 the Nineteenth Congressional District of Ohio elected Garfield to Congress. He hesitated about leaving the army, but, being urged by his friends that it was his duty to serve his country in the House of Representatives, he took his seat December, 1863. Among such men as Colfax, Washburn, Conkling, Allison, and others, he at once took an honorable position. He was made chairman of military affairs, then of banking and currency, of appropriations, and other committees.

On the slavery question he had always been outspoken. He said, on the constitutional amendment abolishing slavery: "All along the coast of our political sea these victims of slavery lie like stranded wrecks broken on the headlands of freedom. How lately did its advocates, with impious boldness, maintain it as God's own; to be venerated and cherished as divine! It was another and higher form of civilization. It was the holy evangel of America dispensing its mercies to a benighted race, and destined to bear countless blessings to the wilderness of the West. In its mad arrogance it lifted its hand to strike down the fabric of the Union, and since that fatal day it has been 'a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth.' Like the spirit that Jesus cast out, it has, since then, been 'seeking rest and finding none.' It has sought in all the corners of the republic to find some hiding-place in which to shelter itself from the death it so richly deserves. It sought an asylum in the untrodden territories of the West, but with a whip of scorpions indignant freemen drove it thence. I do not believe that a loyal man can now be found who would consent that it should again enter them. It has no hope of harbor there. It found no protection or favor in the hearts or consciences of the freemen of the republic, and has fled for its last hope of safety behind the shield of the Constitution. We propose to follow it there, and drive it thence, as Satan was exiled from heaven.... To me it is a matter of great surprise that gentlemen on the other side should wish to delay the death of slavery. I can only account for it on the ground of long continued familiarity and friendship.... Has she not betrayed and slain men enough? Are they not strewn over a thousand battle-fields? Is not this Moloch already gorged with the bloody feast? Its best friends know that its final hour is fast approaching. The avenging gods are on its track. Their feet are not now, as of old, shod with wool, nor slow and stately stepping, but winged like Mercury's to bear the swift message of vengeance. No human power can avert the final catastrophe."

On the currency he spoke repeatedly and earnestly. He carefully studied English financial history, and mastered the French and German languages that he might study their works on political economy and finance. Says Captain F. H. Mason, late of the Forty-second Ohio Regiment, in his sketch of Garfield, "In May, 1868, when the country was rapidly drifting into a hopeless confusion of ideas on financial subjects, and when several prominent statesmen had come forward with specious plans for creating 'absolute money' by putting the government stamp upon bank notes, and for paying off with this false currency the bonds which the nation had solemnly agreed to pay in gold, General Garfield stood up almost single-handed and faced the current with a speech which any statesman of this century might be proud to have written on his monument. It embraced twenty-three distinct but concurrent topics, and occupied in delivering an entire day's session of the House."

"For my own part," he said, "my course is taken. In view of all the facts of our situation, of all the terrible experiences of the past, both at home and abroad, and of the united testimony of the wisest and bravest statesmen who have lived and labored during the past century, it is my firm conviction that any considerable increase of the volume of our inconvertible paper money will shatter public credit, will paralyze public industry, and oppress the poor; and that the gradual restoration of our ancient standard of value will lead us by the safest and surest paths to national prosperity and the steady pursuits of peace."

Again he said: "I for one am not willing that my name shall be linked to the fate of a paper currency. I believe that any party which commits itself to paper money will go down amid the general disaster, covered with the curses of a ruined people.

"Mr. Speaker, I remember that on the monument of Queen Elizabeth, where her glories were recited and her honors summed up, among the last and the highest recorded as the climax of her honors was this: that she had restored the money of her kingdom to its just value. And when this House shall have done its work, when it shall have brought back values to their proper standard, it will deserve a monument."

On the tariff question, General Garfield took the side of protection, yet was no extremist. His oft reiterated belief was, "As an abstract theory, the doctrine of free trade seems to be universally true, but as a question of practicability, under a government like ours, the protective system seems to be indispensable."

He said in Congress: "We have seen that one extreme school of economists would place the price of all manufactured articles in the hands of foreign producers by rendering it impossible for our manufacturers to compete with them; while the other extreme school, by making it impossible for the foreigner to sell his competing wares in our market, would give the people no immediate check upon the prices which our manufacturers might fix for their products. I disagree with both these extremes. I hold that a properly adjusted competition between home and foreign products is the best gauge by which to regulate international trade. Duties should be so high that our manufacturers can fairly compete with the foreign product, but not so high as to enable them to drive out the foreign article, enjoy a monopoly of the trade, and regulate the price as they please. This is my doctrine of protection. If Congress pursues this line of policy steadily, we shall, year by year, approach more nearly to the basis of free trade, because we shall be more nearly able to compete with other nations on equal terms. I am for a protection which leads to ultimate free trade. I am for that free trade which can only be achieved through a reasonable protection.... If all the kingdoms of the world should become the kingdom of the Prince of Peace, then I admit that universal free trade ought to prevail. But that blessed era is yet too remote to be made the basis of the practical legislation of to-day. We are not yet members of 'the parliament of man, the federation of the world.' For the present, the world is divided into separate nationalities; and that other divine command still applies to our situation, 'He that provideth not for his own household has denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel,' and until that latter era arrives patriotism must supply the place of universal brotherhood."

Again he said: "Those arts that enable our nation to rise in the scale of civilization bring their blessings to all, and patriotic citizens will cheerfully bear a fair share of the burden necessary to make their country great and self-sustaining. I will defend a tariff that is national in its aims, that protects and sustains those interests without which the nation cannot become great and self-sustaining.... So important, in my view, is the ability of the nation to manufacture all these articles necessary to arm, equip, and clothe our people, that if it could not be secured in any other way I would vote to pay money out of the federal treasury to maintain government iron and steel, woollen and cotton mills, at whatever cost. Were we to neglect these great interests and depend upon other nations, in what a condition of helplessness would we find ourselves when we should be again involved in war with the very nations on whom we were depending to furnish us these supplies? The system adopted by our fathers is wiser, for it so encourages the great national industries as to make it possible at all times for our people to equip themselves for war, and at the same time increase their intelligence and skill so as to make them better fitted for all the duties of citizenship in war and in peace. We provide for the common defence by a system which promotes the general welfare.... I believe that we ought to seek that point of stable equilibrium somewhere between a prohibitory tariff on the one hand and a tariff that gives no protection on the other. What is that point of stable equilibrium? In my judgment, it is this; a rate so high that foreign producers cannot flood our markets and break down our home manufacturers, but not so high as to keep them altogether out, enabling our manufacturers to combine and raise the prices, nor so high as to stimulate an unnatural and unhealthy growth of manufactures.

"In other words, I would have the duty so adjusted that every great American industry can fairly live and make fair profits, and yet so low that, if our manufacturers attempted to put up prices unreasonably, the competition from abroad would come in and bring down prices to a fair rate."

On special occasions, such as his eulogies on Lincoln and General Thomas, and on Decoration Day at Arlington Heights, Garfield was very eloquent. At the latter place, he said: "If silence is ever golden, it must be here, beside the graves of fifteen thousand men, whose lives were more significant than speech, and whose death was a poem the music of which can never be sung. With words, we make promises, plight faith, praise virtue. Promises may not be kept; plighted faith may be broken; and vaunted virtue may be only the cunning mask of vice. We do not know one promise these men made, one pledge they gave, one word they spoke; but we do know they summed up and perfected, by one supreme act, the highest virtues of men and citizens. For love of country they accepted death, and thus resolved all doubts, and made immortal their patriotism and their virtue.

"For the noblest man that lives there still remains a conflict. He must still withstand the assaults of time and fortune; must still be assailed with temptations before which lofty natures have fallen. But with these, the conflict ended, the victory was won, when death stamped on them the great seal of heroic character, and closed a record which years can never blot."

Professor B. A. Hinsdale, the intimate friend of Garfield, says, in his "Hiram College Memorial," "General Garfield's readiness on all occasions has often been remarked. Probably some have attributed this readiness to the inspiration of genius. The explanation lies partly in his genius, but much more in his indefatigable work. He treasured up knowledge of all kinds. 'You never know,' he would say, 'how soon you will need it.' Then he forecasted occasions, and got ready to meet them. One hot day in July, 1876, he brought to his Washington house an old copy of The Congressional Globe. Questioned, he said, 'I have been told, confidentially, that Mr. Lamar is going to make a speech in the House on general politics, to influence the presidential canvass. If he does, I shall reply to him. Mr. Lamar was a member of the House before the war; and I am going to read some of his old speeches, and get into his mind.' Mr. Lamar made his speech August 2, and Mr. Garfield replied August 4. Men expressed surprise at the fulness and completeness of the reply, delivered on such short notice. But to one knowing his habits of mind, especially to one who had the aforesaid conversation with him, the whole matter was as light as day. His genius was emphatically the genius of preparation."

Both in Congress and in the army Garfield gave a portion of each day to the classics, especially to his favorite, Horace. He was always an omnivorous reader.

In 1880, he was elected United States senator. After the election he said, "During the twenty years that I have been in public life, almost eighteen of it in the Congress of the United States, I have tried to do one thing. Whether I was mistaken or otherwise, it has been the plan of my life to follow my convictions, at whatever personal cost to myself. I have represented for many years a district in Congress whose approbation I greatly desired; but, though it may seem, perhaps, a little egotistical to say it, I yet desired still more the approbation of one person, and his name was Garfield. He is the only man that I am compelled to sleep with, and eat with, and live with, and die with; and if I could not have his approbation I should have had bad companionship."

All these years the home life had been helpful and beautiful. Of his seven children, two were sleeping in the Hiram church-yard. Five, Harry, James, Mollie, Irvin, and Abram, made the Washington home a place of cheer in winter, and the summer home, at Mentor, Ohio, a few miles from Hiram, a place of rest and pleasure. Here Garfield, beloved by his neighbors, ploughed and sewed and reaped, as when a boy. His mother lived in his family, happy in his success.

When the national Republican convention met in June, 1880, at Chicago, the names of several presidential candidates came before the people,—Grant, Blaine, and others. Garfield nominated John Sherman, of Ohio, in a chaste and eloquent speech. He said: "I have witnessed the extraordinary scenes of this convention with deep solicitude. No emotion touches my heart more quickly than a sentiment in honor of a great and noble character; but, as I sat on these seats and witnessed these demonstrations, it seemed to me you were a human ocean in a tempest.

"I have seen the sea lashed into fury and tossed into spray, and its grandeur moves the soul of the dullest man; but I remember that it is not the billows but the calm level of the sea from which all heights and depths are measured. When the storm has passed and the hour of calm settles on the ocean, when the sunlight bathes its smooth surface, then the astronomer and surveyor takes the level from which he measures all terrestrial heights and depths.

"Gentlemen of the convention, your present temper may not mark the healthful pulse of our people. When our enthusiasm has passed, when the emotions of this hour have subsided, we shall find that calm level of public opinion, below the storm, from which the thoughts of a mighty people are to be measured, and by which their final action will be determined. Not here in this brilliant circle, where fifteen thousand men and women are assembled, is the destiny of the Republican party to be decreed. Not here, where I see the enthusiastic faces of seven hundred and fifty-six delegates, waiting to cast their votes into the urn and determine the choice of the republic, but by four million Republican firesides, where the thoughtful voters, with wives and children about them, with the calm thoughts inspired by love of home and country, with the history of the past, the hopes of the future, and reverence for the great men who have adorned and blessed our nation in days gone by burning in their hearts,—there God prepares the verdict which will determine the wisdom of our work to-night. Not in Chicago, in the heat of June, but at the ballot-boxes of the republic, in the quiet of November, after the silence of deliberate judgment, will this question be settled."

The thousands were at fever-heat hour after hour, in their intense excitement. After thirty-four ineffectual ballots, on the thirty-fifth, fifty votes were given for Garfield. The tide had turned at last. The delegates of State after State gathered around the man from Ohio, holding their flags over him, while the bands played, "Rally round the flag, boys," and fifteen thousand people shouted their thanksgiving for the happy choice. Outside the great hall, cannons were fired, and the crowded streets sent up their cheers. From that moment Garfield belonged to the nation, and was its idol.

On March 4, 1881, in the presence of a hundred thousand people, the boy born in the Orange wilderness was inaugurated President of the United States. None of us who were present will ever forget the beauty of his address from the steps of the national Capitol, or the kiss given to white-haired mother and devoted wife at the close. Afterward, the great procession, three hours in passing a given point, was reviewed by President Garfield from a stand erected in front of the White House.

Four months after this scene, on July 2, 1881, the nation was thrilled with sorrow. As General Garfield and his Secretary of State, James G. Blaine, arm in arm, were entering the Baltimore & Potomac Railroad depot, two pistol shots were fired; one passing through Garfield's coat-sleeve, the other into his body. He fell heavily to the floor, and was borne to the White House. The assassin was Charles Guiteau, a half-crazed aspirant for office, entirely unknown to the President. The man was hanged.

Through four long months the nation prayed, and hoped, and agonized for the life of its beloved President. Gifts poured in from every part of the Union, but gifts were of no avail. On September 5, Garfield was carried to Elberon, Long Branch, New Jersey, where, in the Francklyn Cottage, he seemed to revive as he looked out upon the sea, the sea he had longed for in his boyhood. The nation took heart. But two weeks later, at thirty-five minutes past ten, on the evening of September 19, the anniversary of the battle of Chickamauga, the President passed from an unconscious state to the consciousness of immortality. At ten minutes past ten he had said to General Swaim, who was standing beside him, as he put his hand upon his heart, "I have great pain here."

The whole world sympathized with America in her great sorrow. Queen Victoria telegraphed to Mrs. Garfield: "Words cannot express the deep sympathy I feel with you at this terrible moment. May God support and comfort you, as he alone can."On September 21, the body of the President was taken to Washington. At the Princeton Station, three hundred students from the college, with uncovered heads, strewed the track and covered the funeral car with flowers. At the Capitol, where he had so recently listened to the cheers of the people at his inauguration, one hundred thousand passed in silence before his open coffin. The casket was covered with flowers; one wreath bearing a card from England's queen, with the words: "Queen Victoria, to the memory of the late President Garfield, an expression of her sorrow and sympathy with Mrs. Garfield and the American nation."

The body was borne to Cleveland, the whole train of cars being draped in black. Fifty thousand persons assembled at the station, and followed the casket to a catafalque on the public square. During the Sabbath, an almost countless throng passed beside the beloved dead. On Monday, September 26, through beautiful Euclid Avenue, the body was borne six miles, to its final resting-place. Every house was draped in mourning. Streets were arched with exquisite flowers on a background of black. One city alone, Cincinnati, sent two carloads of flowers. Among the many floral designs was a ladder of white immortelles, with eleven rounds, bearing the words: "Chester," "Hiram," "Williams," "Ohio Senate," "Colonel," "General," "Congress," "United States Senate," "President," "Martyr."

After appropriate exercises, the sermon being preached by Rev. Isaac Errett, D.D., of Cincinnati, according to a promise made years before, the casket, followed by a procession five miles long, was carried to the cemetery. It was estimated that a quarter of a million people were gathered along the streets; not idle sight-seers, but men and women who loved the boy, and revered the man who had come to distinguished honor in their midst.

Not only in Cleveland were memorial services held. The Archbishop of Canterbury spoke touching words in London. In Liverpool, in Manchester, in Glasgow, and hundreds of other cities, public services were held. Messages of condolence were sent from many of the crowned heads of Europe.

Under the white stone monument in Lake View Cemetery, the statesman has been laid to rest. For centuries the tomb will tell to the thousands upon thousands who visit it the story of struggle and success; of work, of hope, of courage, of devotion to duty. Like Abraham Lincoln, Garfield was born in a log cabin, battled with poverty, was honest, great-hearted, a lover of America, and, like him, a martyr to the republic. To the world both deaths seemed unbearable calamities, but nations, like individuals, are chastened by sorrow, and learn great lessons through great trials. "Now we know in part; but then shall we know even as also we are known."

"The Best Book for Boys that has yet been written. We say this with Tom Brown's delightful School Days fresh in our recollection."—Portland Press.