Chapter XXIV—The Battle Of Middle Creek.

Col. Garfield has gained a great advantage, but he knows that it must be followed up. His ambition is not satisfied. He means to force a fight with Marshall, despite the odds.

He has been reinforced, but Craven's men are completely exhausted by their long and toilsome march. They are hardly able to drag one foot after the other. Garfield knows this, but he explains to his men what he proposes to do. He orders those who have strength to come forward. Of the men under his immediate command seven hundred obey the summons. Of Craven's weary followers four hundred heroic men volunteer to accompany him.

So at noon of the 9th, with eleven hundred men, Garfield sets out for Prestonburg, sending all his available cavalry to follow the line of the enemy's retreat. At nine o'clock that night, after a march of eighteen miles, he reaches the mouth of Abbott's Creek with his eleven hundred men. He hears that his opponent is encamped three miles higher up on the same stream. He sends an order back to Lieutenant-Colonel Sheldon, who is left in command at Paintville, to bring up every available man with all possible dispatch, for he intends to force a battle in the morning.

He requires to know the disposition of Marshall's forces, and here the gallant scout, John Jordan, again is of service to him. While a dozen Confederates were grinding at a mill, they were surprised by as many Union men, who, taking them by surprise, captured their corn, and made them prisoners. Jordan eyed the miller with a critical eye, and a plan was instantly formed. The miller was a tall, gaunt man, and his clothes would fit the scout. He takes a fancy to exchange raiment with the miller. Then, smearing his face with meal, he goes back to the Confederate camp in a new character. Even if he is surprised he will escape suspicion, for the miller is a pronounced disunionist, and he looks his very image.

His midnight ramble enabled him to learn precisely what it was important for Garfield to know. He found out their exact position, and that they had laid an ambuscade for the Union commander. They were waiting for him, strongly posted on a semicircular hill at the forks of Middle Creek, on both sides of the road, with cannon commanding its whole length, hidden by the trees and underbrush.

"They think they've got you, general," said Jordan. "They're waitin' for you as a cat waits for a mouse."

Upon a steep ridge called Abbott's Hill, the Union soldiers, tired and sleepy, had thrown themselves upon the wet ground. There was a dense fog, shutting out the moon and stars, and shrouding the lonely mountain in darkness. The rain was driven in blinding gusts into the faces of the shivering men, and tired as they were they hailed with joy the coming of morning. For more than one brave man it was destined to be his last day upon earth.

At four o'clock they started on their march. About daybreak, while rounding a hill, their advance guard was charged upon by a body of Confederate horsemen. In return Garfield gave the Confederates a volley, that sent them reeling up the valley.

Turning The Tide Of Battle At Chickamauga

Turning The Tide Of Battle At Chickamauga

It was clear that the main body of the enemy was not far away. To determine this Garfield sent forward a body of skirmishers to draw the fire of the enemy. He succeeded, for a twelve-pound shell whistled above the trees, then plowed up the hill, and buried itself in the ground at the feet of the little band of skirmishers.

Noon came, and Garfield made the necessary preparations for battle. He could not have been without apprehension, for he knew, though the enemy did not, that their force was far superior to his. He sent forward his mounted escort of twelve men to make a charge and draw the enemy's fire. His plan succeeded. Another shell whistled over their heads, and the long roll of five thousand muskets was heard.

It was certainly a remarkable battle, when we consider that a small band of eleven hundred men without cannon had undertaken to attack a force of five thousand, supported by twelve pieces of artillery, charging up a rocky hill, over stumps, over stones, over fallen trees, and over high intrenchments.

"The battle was fought on the margin of Middle Creek, a narrow, rapid stream, and three miles from where it finds its way into the Big Sandy, through the sharp spurs of the Cumberland Mountain. A rocky road, not ten feet in width, winds along this stream, and on its two banks abrupt ridges, with steep and rocky sides, overgrown with trees and underbrush, shut closely down upon the road and the little streamlet. At twelve o'clock Garfield had gained the crest of the ridge at the right of the road, and the charge of his handful of horsemen had drawn Marshall's fire, and disclosed his actual position.

"The main force of the Confederates occupied the crests of the two ridges at the left of the stream, but a strong detachment was posted on the right, and a battery of twelve pieces held the forks of the creek, and commanded the approach of the Union army. It was Marshall's plan to drive Garfield along the road, and then, taking him between two enfilading fires, to surround and utterly destroy him. But his hasty fire betrayed his design, and unmasked his entire position.

"Garfield acted with promptness and decision. A hundred undergraduates, recruited from his own college, were ordered to cross the stream climb the ridge whence the fire had been hottest, and bring on the battle. Boldly the little band plunged into the creek, the icy water up to their waists, and clinging to the trees and underbrush, climbed the rocky ascent. Half-way up the ridge the fire of at least two thousand rifles opens upon them; but, springing from tree to tree, they press on, and at last reach the summit. Then suddenly the hill is gray with Confederates, who, rising from ambush, pour their deadly volleys into the little band of only one hundred. In a moment they waver, but their leader calls out, 'Every man to a tree! Give them as good as they send, my boys!'

"The Confederates, behind rocks and a rude intrenchment, are obliged to expose their heads to take aim at the advancing column; but the Union troops, posted behind the huge oaks and maples, can stand erect, and load and fire, fully protected. Though they are outnumbered ten to one, the contest is therefore, for a time, not so very unequal.

"But soon the Confederates, exhausted with the obstinate resistance, rush from cover, and charge upon the little handful with the bayonet. Slowly they are driven down the hill, and two of them fall to the ground wounded. One never rises; the other, a lad of only eighteen, is shot through the thigh, and one of his comrades turns back to bear him to a place of safety. The advancing Confederates are within thirty feet, when one of them fires, and his bullet strikes a tree directly above the head of the Union soldier. He turns, levels his musket, and the Confederate is in eternity. Then the rest are upon him; but, zigzagging from tree to tree, he is soon with his driven column. But not far are the brave boys driven. A few rods lower down they hear the voice of the brave Captain Williams, their leader.

"'To the trees again, my boys!' he cries. 'We may as well die here as in Ohio!'

"To the trees they go, and in a moment the advancing horde is checked, and then rolled backward. Up the hill they turn, firing as they go, and the little band follows. Soon the Confederates reach the spot where the Hiram boy lies wounded, and one of them says: 'Boy, give me your musket.'

"'Not the gun, but its contents,' cries the boy, and the Confederate falls mortally wounded. Another raises his weapon to brain the prostrate lad, but he too falls, killed with his comrade's own rifle. And all this is done while the hero-boy is on the ground, bleeding. An hour afterward his comrades bear the boy to a sheltered spot on the other side of the streamlet, and then the first word of complaint escapes him. As they are taking off his leg, he says, in his agony, 'Oh, what will mother do?'"

Poor boy! At that terrible moment, in the throes of his fierce agony, he thought not of himself, but of the mother at home, who was dependent on his exertions for a livelihood. For in war it is not alone the men in the field who are called upon to suffer, but the mothers, the wives, and the children, left at home, whose hearts are rent with anxiety—to whom, at any moment, may come the tidings of the death of their loved one.

On a rocky height, commanding the field, Garfield watched the tide of battle. He saw that it was unequal, and that there was danger that his troops would be overmatched. He saw that they were being driven, and that they would lose the hill if not supported.

Instantly he ordered to the rescue five hundred of the Ohio Fortieth and Forty-second, under Major Pardee and Colonel Craven. They dashed boldly into the stream, holding their cartridge-boxes above their heads, and plunged into the fight, shouting:

"Hurrah for Williams and the Hiram boys!"

But their position was most critical, for shot, and shell, and canister, and the fire of four thousand muskets are now concentrated upon them.

"This will never do!" cries Garfield. "Who will volunteer to carry the other mountain?"

Colonel Munroe, of the Twenty-second Kentucky, responded quickly, "We will. We know every inch of the ground."

"Go in, then," cries Garfield, "and give them Columbia!"

I have not space to record the varying fortunes of the day. For five hours the contest rages. By turns the Union forces are driven back, and then, with a brave charge, they regain their lost ground, and from behind rocks and trees pour in their murderous volleys. The battle began at noon, and when the sun sets on the brief winter day it is still unfinished.

Posted on a projecting rock, in full sight of both armies, stands the Union commander—his head uncovered, his hair streaming in the wind, and his heart full of alternate hopes and fears. It looks as if the day were lost—as if the gallant eleven hundred were conquered at last, when, at a critical moment, the starry banner is seen waving over an advancing host. It is Sheldon and reinforcements—long and anxiously expected! Their shouts are taken up by the eleven hundred! The enemy see them and are panic-stricken.

The day is won!

Chapter XXV—The Perilous Trip Up The Big Sandy.

I have followed Col. Garfield through the Kentucky campaign, not because it compared in importance with many other military operations of the war, but because in its conduct he displayed in a remarkable degree some of the traits by which he was distinguished. From a military point of view it may be criticised. His attack upon an enemy far his superior in numbers, and in a more favorable position, would scarcely have been undertaken by an officer of more military experience. Yet, once undertaken, it was carried through with remarkable dash and brilliancy, and the strategy displayed was of a high order.

I must find room for the address issued to his little army on the day succeeding the battle, for it tells, in brief, the story of the campaign:

"SOLDIERS OF THE EIGHTEENTH BRIGADE: I am proud of you all! In four weeks you have marched, some eighty and some a hundred miles, over almost impassable roads. One night in four you have slept, often in the storm, with only a wintry sky above your heads. You have marched in the face of a foe of more than double your number—led on by chiefs who have won a national reputation under the old flag—intrenched in hills of his own choosing, and strengthened by all the appliances of military art. With no experience but the consciousness of your own manhood, you have driven him from his strongholds, pursued his inglorious flight, and compelled him to meet you in battle. When forced to fight, he sought the shelter of rocks and hills. You drove him from his position, leaving scores of his bloody dead unburied. His artillery thundered against you, but you compelled him to flee by the light of his burning stores, and to leave even the banner of his rebellion behind him. I greet you as brave men. Our common country will not forget you. She will not forget the sacred dead who fell beside you, nor those of your comrades who won scars of honor on the field.

"I have recalled you from the pursuit that you may regain vigor for still greater exertions. Let no one tarnish his well-earned honor by any act unworthy an American soldier. Remember your duties as American citizens, and sacredly respect the rights and property of those with whom you have come in contact. Let it not be said that good men dread the approach of an American army.

"Officers and soldiers, your duty has been nobly done. For this I thank you."

The battle had been won, but the victorious army was in jeopardy. They had less than three days' rations, and there were great difficulties in the way of procuring a further supply. The rainy season had made the roads impassable for all but horsemen.

Still there was the river. But the Big Sandy was now swollen beyond its banks, and the rapid current was filled with floating logs and uptorn trees. The oldest and most experienced boatmen shook their heads, and would not attempt the perilous voyage.

What was to be done?

Col. Garfield had with him Brown, the scout and ex-canal-boatman, who had returned from reconnoitering Marshall's camp, with a bullet through his hat. Garfield asked his advice.

"It's which and t'other, General Jim," he answered, "starvin' or drownin'. I'd rather drown nur starve. So gin the word, and, dead or alive, I'll git down the river!"

Garfield gave the word, but he did not let the brave scout go alone. Together in a small skiff they "got down the river." It was no light task. The Big Sandy was now a raging torrent, sixty feet in depth, and, in many places, above the tops of the tall trees which grew along its margin. In some deep and narrow gorges, where the steep banks shut down upon the stream, these trees had been undermined at the roots, and, falling inward, had locked their arms together, forming a net-work that well-nigh prevented the passage of the small skiff and its two navigators. Where a small skiff could scarcely pass, could they run a large steamboat loaded with provisions?

"Other men might ask that question, but not the backwoods boy who had learned navigation on the waters of the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal. He pushed to the mouth of the river, and there took possession of the Sandy Valley, a small steamer in the quartermaster's service. Loading her with supplies, he set about starting up the river, but the captain of the boat declared the thing was impossible. Not stopping to argue the point, Garfield ordered him and his crew on board, and himself taking the helm, set out up the river.

"Brown he stationed at the bow, where, with a long fending-pole in his hand, he was to keep one eye on the floating logs and uprooted trees, the other on the chicken-hearted captain.

"The river surged and boiled and whirled against the boat, tossing her about as if she were a cockle-shell. With every turn of her wheel she trembled from stem to stern, and with a full head of steam could only stagger along at the rate of three miles an hour. When night came the captain begged to tie up till morning, for breasting that flood in the dark was sheer madness; but Brown cried out, 'Put her ahead, Gineral Jim,' and Garfield clutched the helm and drove her on through the darkness.

"Soon they came to a sudden bend in the stream, where the swift current formed a furious whirlpool, and this catching the laboring boat, whirled her suddenly round, and drove her, head on, into the quicksands. Mattocks were plied, and excavations made round the imbedded bow, and the bowman uttered oaths loud enough to have raised a small earthquake; but still the boat was immovable. She was stuck fast in the mud, and every effort to move her was fruitless. Garfield ordered a small boat to be lowered, and take a line to the other bank, by which to warp the steamer free; but the captain and now the crew protested it was certain death to attempt to cross that foaming torrent at midnight.

"They might as well have repeated to him the Creed and the Ten Commandments, for Garfield himself sprang into the boat and called to Brown to follow. He took the helm and laid her bow across the stream, but the swift current swept them downward. After incredible labor they made the opposite bank, but far below the steamboat. Closely hugging the shore, they now crept up the stream, and fastening the line to a tree, rigged a windlass, and finally warped the vessel again into deep water.

"All that night, and all the next day, and all the following night they struggled with the furious river, Garfield never but once leaving the helm, and then for only a few hours' sleep, which he snatched in his clothes in the day-time. At last they rounded to at the Union camp, and then went up a cheer that might have been heard all over Kentucky. His waiting men, frantic with joy, seized their glorious commander, and were with difficulty prevented from bearing him on their shoulders to his quarters."

The little army was saved from starvation by the canal-boy, who had not forgotten his old trade. He had risked his life a dozen times over in making the perilous trip, which has been so graphically described in the passages I have quoted. But for his early and humble experience, he never would have been able to bring the little steamer up the foaming river. Little did he dream in the days when, as a boy, he guided the Evening Star, that fifteen years hence, an officer holding an important command he would use the knowledge then acquired to save a famishing army. We can not wonder that his men should have been devotedly attached to such a commander.

I have said that the Kentucky campaign was not one of the most important operations of the civil war, but its successful issue was most welcome, coming at the time it did. It came after a series of disasters, which had produced wide-spread despondency, and even dimmed the courage of President Lincoln. It kindled hope in the despondent, and nerved patriotic arms to new and vigorous efforts.

"Why did Garfield, in two weeks, do what it would have taken one of you Regular folks two months to accomplish?" asked the President, of a distinguished army officer.

"Because he was not educated at West Point," answered the officer, laughing.

"No," replied Mr. Lincoln; "that wasn't the reason. It was because, when a boy, he had to work for a living."

This was literally true. To his struggling boyhood and early manhood, and the valuable experience it brought him, Garfield was indebted for the strength and practical knowledge which brought him safely through a campaign conducted against fearful odds.

His country was not ungrateful. He received the thanks of the commanding general for services which "called into action the highest qualities of a soldier—fortitude, perseverance, courage," and a few weeks later a commission as brigadier-general of volunteers, to date from the battle of Middle Creek.

So Jim Garfield, the canal-boy, has become a general. It is an important step upward, but where are others to come?

If this were designed to be a complete biography of General Garfield, I should feel it my duty to chronicle the important part he took in the battle of Chickamauga, where he acted as chief of staff to General Rosecranz, aiding his superior officer at a most critical point in the battle by advice which had an important influence in saving the day. I should like to describe the wonderful and perilous ride of three miles which he took, exposing his life at every moment, to warn General Thomas that he is out-flanked, and that at least seventy thousand men are closing down upon his right wing, to crush his twenty-five thousand to fragments. Sometimes I hope a poet, of fitting inspiration, will sing of that ride, and how, escaping from shot and shell, he plunged down the hill through the fiery storm, reaching Thomas in safety, though his noble horse at that moment fell dead at his feet. I can not spare time for the record, but must refer my young reader to the pages of Edmund Kirke, or General James S. Brisbin.

Other duties, and another important field of action, await Garfield, and we must hurry on. But, before doing so, I must not fail to record that the War Department, recognizing his important services at the battle of Chickamauga, sent him a fortnight later the commission of a major-general.

Chapter XXVI—The Canal-Boy Becomes A Congressman.

While Garfield was serving his country to the utmost of his ability in the field, the voters of the Nineteenth District of Ohio, in which he had his home, were called upon to select a man to represent them in Congress. It perhaps exceeds any other portion of the State in its devotion to the cause of education and the general intelligence of its inhabitants. The people were mostly of New England origin, and in selecting a representative they wanted a man who was fitted by education, as well as fidelity, to do them credit.

Their choice fell upon Garfield, who was known to them at home as the head of one of their chief institutions of learning, and whose reputation had not suffered in the field. They did not even consult him, but put him in nomination, and elected him by an overwhelming majority.

It was a gratifying compliment, for in our country an election to Congress is regarded as a high honor, which no one need be reluctant to accept. We have on record one of our most distinguished statesmen—John Quincy Adams—who, after filling the Presidential chair, was content to go back to Washington as a member of the House of Representatives from his district in Massachusetts. It was undoubtedly more in harmony with the desires and tastes of the young man—for he was still a young man—than service in the field. But he felt that that was not the question. Where was he more needed? The war was not over. Indeed, it seemed doubtful when it would be finished; and Garfield was now in a position to serve his country well as a military commander.

When on the march to Chattanooga, Garfield consulted Gen. Rosecranz, owning that he was perplexed in attempting to decide.

Rosecranz said: "The war is not yet over, nor will it be for some time to come. Many questions will arise in Congress which will require not only statesman-like treatment, but the advice of men having an acquaintance with military affairs. For that reason you will, I think, do as good service to the country in Congress as in the field. I not only think that you can accept the position with honor, but that it is your duty to do it."

He added, and we may be sure that his advice accorded with the personal judgment of the man whom he was addressing, "Be true to yourself, and you will make your mark before your country."

Some months were to elapse before he would require to go to Washington, for Congress was not to meet till December.

He went to Washington, undecided even yet whether to remain as a legislator, or to return to his old comrades in the army. He only wished to know where he could be of most service to his country, and he finally decided to lay the matter before President Lincoln.

Lincoln gave substantially the same advice as Rosecranz: "We need men who will help us carry the necessary war measures; and, besides, we are greatly lacking in men of military experience in the House to promote legislation about the army. It is your duty, therefore, to enter Congress."

When, on the 5th of December, 1863, Garfield took his seat in the House of Representatives, he was the youngest member of that body. The Military Committee was the most important committee of Congress, and he was put upon that, on account of his practical experience in the field. This, of course, brought him, though a new and young member, into immediate prominence, and his familiarity with the wants of the army enabled him to be of great service.

I do not propose to detail at tiresome length the legislative achievements of Gen. Garfield in the new position which he was destined to fill for eighteen years. I shall only refer to such as illustrate his characteristic devotion to duty without special regard to his own interests. He never hesitated to array himself in opposition to the popular will, if he thought the people were wrong. It was not long before an occasion came up which enabled him to assert his independence.

The country needed soldiers, and had inaugurated a system of bounties which should tempt men to join the ranks of the country's defenders. It was only a partial success. Some men, good and true, were led to join by the offer of a sum which made them more at ease about the comfort of their families, but many joined the service from mercenary considerations only, who seized the first opportunity to desert, and turning up in another locality, enlisted again and obtained a second bounty. These men obtained the name of bounty-jumpers, and there was a host of them. Yet the measure was popular with soldiers, and Congress was unanimously in favor of it. Great was the amazement of his fellow-members when the young member from the Nineteenth Ohio district rose in his seat and earnestly opposed it. He objected that the policy was ruinous, involving immense expense, while effecting little good. He claimed that the country had a right to the service of every one of its children at such a crisis, without hire and without reward.

But one man stood with him, so unpopular was the stand he had taken; but it was not long before the bounty system broke down, and Garfield's views were adopted.

Later on he had another chance to show his independence. President Lincoln, foreseeing that at a certain date not far ahead the time of enlistment of nearly half the army would expire, came before Congress and asked for power to draft men into service. It met with great opposition. "What! force men into the field! Why, we might as well live under a despotism!" exclaimed many; and the members of Congress, who knew how unpopular the measure would be among their constituents, defeated it by a two-thirds vote.

It was a critical juncture. As Lincoln had said in substance, all military operations would be checked. Not only could not the war be pushed, but the Government could not stand where it did. Sherman would have to come back from Atlanta, Grant from the Peninsula.

The voting was over, and the Government was despondent. Then it was that Garfield rose, and moving a reconsideration, made a speech full of fire and earnestness, and the House, carried by storm, passed the bill, and President Lincoln made a draft for half a million men.

Garfield knew that this action would be unpopular in his district. It might defeat his re-election; but that mattered not. The President had been assailed by the same argument, and had answered, "Gentlemen, it is not necessary that I should be reëlected, but it is necessary that I should put down this rebellion." With this declaration the young Congressman heartily sympathized.

Remonstrances did come from his district. Several of his prominent supporters addressed him a letter, demanding his resignation. He wrote them that he had acted according to his views of the needs of the country; that he was sorry his judgment did not agree with theirs, but that he must follow his own. He expected to live long enough to have them all confess that he was right.

It was about this time that he made his celebrated reply to Mr. Alexander Long, of Ohio, a fellow Congressman, who proposed to yield everything and to recognize the Southern Confederacy.

The excitement was intense. In the midst of it Garfield rose and made the following speech:

"MR. CHAIRMAN," he said, "I am reminded by the occurrences of this afternoon of two characters in the war of the Revolution as compared with two others in the war of to-day.

"The first was Lord Fairfax, who dwelt near the Potomac, a few miles from us. When the great contest was opened between the mother country and the colonies, Lord Fairfax, after a protracted struggle with his own heart, decided he must go with the mother country. He gathered his mantle about him and went over grandly and solemnly.

"There was another man, who cast in his lot with the struggling colonists, and continued with them till the war was well-nigh ended. In an hour of darkness that just preceded the glory of the morning, he hatched the treason to surrender forever all that had been gained to the enemies of his country. Benedict Arnold was that man!

"Fairfax and Arnold find their parallels of to-day.

"When this war began many good men stood hesitating and doubting what they ought to do. Robert E. Lee sat in his house across the river here, doubting and delaying, and going off at last almost tearfully to join the army of his State. He reminds one in some respects of Lord Fairfax, the stately Royalist of the Revolution.

"But now when tens of thousands of brave souls have gone up to God under the shadow of the flag; when thousands more, maimed and shattered in the contest, are sadly awaiting the deliverance of death; now, when three years of terrific warfare have raged over us; when our armies have pushed the Rebellion back over mountains and rivers, and crowded it into narrow limits, until a wall of fire girds it; now when the uplifted hand of a majestic people is about to hurl the bolts of its conquering power upon the Rebellion; now, in the quiet of this hall, hatched in the lowest depths of a similar dark treason, there rises a Benedict Arnold, and proposes to surrender all up, body and spirit, the nation and the flag, its genius and its honor, now and forever, to the accursed traitors to our country! And that proposition comes—God forgive and pity our beloved State—it comes from a citizen of the time-honored and loyal commonwealth of Ohio!

"I implore you, brethren in this House, to believe that not many births ever gave pangs to my mother State such as she suffered when that traitor was born! I beg you not to believe that on the soil of that State another such a growth has ever deformed the face of nature, and darkened the light of God's day!"

Chapter XXVII—Garfield's Course In Congress.

If Garfield at once took a prominent place in the House of Representatives, it was by no means because it was composed of inferior men. On the other hand, there has seldom been a time when it contained a larger number of men either prominent, or destined in after days to be prominent. I avail myself of the detailed account given of its members by Major Bundy, in his excellent Life of Garfield. There are some names which will be familiar to most of my young readers:

"Its then most fortunate and promising member was Schuyler Colfax, the popular Speaker. But there were three young members who were destined to a more lasting prominence. The senior of these who had enjoyed previous service in he House, was Roscoe Conkling, already recognized by Congress and the country as a magnificent and convincing speaker. The other two were James G. Blaine and James A. Garfield. Only a year the senior of Garfield, Blaine was about to begin a career as brilliant as that of Henry Clay, and the acquisition of a popularity unique in our political history. But in this Congress there were many members whose power was far greater than that of either of the trio, who may yet be as much compared as Clay, Webster, and Calhoun were in former days.

"In the first place, there was Elihu B. Washburne, 'the watch-dog of the treasury,' the 'father of the House,' courageous, practical, direct, and aggressive. Then there was Thaddeus Stevens, who was one of the very few men capable of driving his party associates—a character as unique as, and far stronger than, John Randolph; General Robert C. Schenck, fresh from the army, but a veteran in Congress, one of the ablest of practical statesmen; ex-Governor Boutwell, of Massachusetts; ex-Governor Fenton, of New York, a very influential member, especially on financial questions; Henry Winter Davis, the brilliant orator, of Maryland; William B. Allison, since one of the soundest and most useful of Iowa's Senators; Henry L. Dawes, who fairly earned his promotion to the Senate, but who accomplished so much in the House that his best friends regret the transfer; John A. Bingham, one of the most famous speakers of his time; James E. English, of Connecticut, who did valiant and patriotic service as a War Democrat; George H. Pendleton, now Senator from Ohio, and a most accomplished statesman, even in his early service in the House; Henry G. Stebbins, who was to make a speech sustaining Mr. Chase's financial policy that was unequaled for its salutary effect on public opinion; Samuel J. Randall, now Speaker; John A. Griswold, of New York; William Windom, one of the silent members, who has grown steadily in power; James F. Wilson, who was destined to decline three successive offers of Cabinet positions by President Grant; Daniel W. Voorhies, of Indiana, now Senator; John A. Kasson, of Iowa, now our Minister to Austria; Theodore M. Pomeroy, of New York, afterward Acting Speaker for a brief period; William R. Morrison, of Illinois, since a Democratic candidate for the Presidency; William S. Holman and George W. Julian, of Indiana, both able men; and Fernando Wood—these were all prominent members of the House. It will be seen that the House was a more trying arena for a young member like Garfield than the Senate would have been; for the contests of the former—unsubdued and unmitigated by 'the courtesy of the Senate'—were conducted by as ready and able a corps of debaters as ever sat in that body."

This was surely a formidable array of men, and a man of ordinary powers would have found it prudent to remain silent during the first session, lest he should be overwhelmed by some one of the ready speakers and experienced legislators with whom he was associated. But the canal-boy, who had so swiftly risen from his humble position to the post of college president and major-general, till at the age of thirty-two he sat in the national council the youngest member, was not daunted. His term of service as State Senator was now of use to him, for it had given him a knowledge of parliamentary law, and the practice in speaking which he gained long ago in the boys' debating societies, and extended in college, rendered him easy and master of himself.

Indeed he could not remain silent, for he represented the "boys at the front," and whenever a measure was proposed affecting their interests, he was expected to take part in the debate. It was not long before the House found that its new member was a man of grace and power, with whom it was not always safe to measure weapons. He was inclined to be peaceful, but he was not willing to permit any one to domineer over him, and the same member did not often attempt it a second time.

My young readers are sure to admire pluck, and they will, therefore, read with interest of one such occasion, when Garfield effectually quelled such an attempt. I find it in a chapter of reminiscences contributed to the Boston Journal, by Ben Perley Poore, the well-known correspondent:

"When the Jenckes Bankrupt Bill came before the House, Gen. Garfield objected to it, because in his opinion it did not provide that the estates of rebels in arms should escape the operations of the law. He also showed that money was being raised to secure the enactment of the bill, and Mr. Spalding, of the Cleveland district, was prompted by Mr. Jenckes to 'sit down on him.' But Gen. Garfield was not to be silenced easily and quite a scene ensued. The next day Garfield rose to a personal explanation, and said:

"'I made no personal reference whatever; I assailed no gentleman; I called no man's honor in question. My colleague from the Cleveland district (Mr. Spalding) rose and asked if I had read the bill. I answered him, I believe, in courteous language and manner, that I had read it, and immediately on my statement to that effect he said in his place in the House, and it has gone on the record, that he did not believe I had read it; in other words, that he believed I had lied, in the presence of my peers in this House. I felt, under such circumstances, that it would not be becoming my self-respect, or the respect I owe to the House, to continue a colloquy with any gentleman who had thus impeached my veracity and I said so.

"'It pains me very much that a gentleman of venerable age, who was in full maturity of life when I was a child, and whom I have respected since my childhood, should have taken occasion here in this place to use language so uncalled for, so ungenerous, so unjust to me, and disgraceful to himself. I have borne with the ill-nature and bad blood of that gentleman, as many others in this House have, out of respect for his years; but no importunity of age shall shield him, or any man, from my denunciation, who is so lacking in the proprieties of this place as to be guilty of such parliamentary and personal indecency as the House has witnessed on his part. I had hoped that before this time he would have acknowledged to me the impropriety and unjustifiableness of his conduct and apologized for the insult. But he has not seen fit to take this course. I leave him to his own reflections, and his conduct to the judgment of the House.'"

Those who listened to these spirited rebukes saw that the young member from Ohio would not allow himself to be snubbed or insulted with impunity, and the few who were accustomed to descend to such discourtesy took warning accordingly. They were satisfied that Garfield, to quote a common phrase, would give them as good as they sent, and perhaps a little better. The boy, who at sixteen, when employed on the tow-path, thrashed the bully of thirty-five for insulting him, was not likely in his manhood to submit to the insults of a Congressional bully. He was a man to compel respect, and had that resolute and persistent character which was likely ere long to make him a leader. So Disraeli, coughed down in his first attempt to speak before the English House of Commons, accepted the situation, but recorded the prediction that one day they would hear him. He, too, mounted step by step till he reached the highest position in the English Government outside of royalty. A man who is destined to be great is only strengthened by opposition, and rises in the end victorious over circumstances.

Garfield soon made it manifest that he had come to Washington to work. He was not one to lie back and enjoy in idleness the personal consequence which his position gave him. All his life he had been a worker, and a hard worker, from the time when he cut one hundred cords of wood, at twenty-five cents a cord, all through his experience as a canal-boy, a carpenter, a farm-worker, a janitor, a school teacher, a student, and a military commander, and now that he had taken his place in the grand council of the nation, he was not going to begin a life of self-indulgent idleness.

In consideration of his military record he was, at his entrance into Congress, put upon the Military Committee; but a session or two later, at his own request, he was assigned a place on the Committee of Ways and Means. His reason for this request was, that he might have an opportunity of studying the question of finance, which he had sufficient foresight to perceive would one day be a great question, overshadowing all others. He instantly set himself to a systematic and exhaustive study of this subject, and attained so thorough a knowledge of it that he was universally recognized as a high authority—perhaps the highest in the department. He made speech after speech on the finance question, and was a pronounced advocate of "Honest Money," setting his face like a flint against those who advocated any measures calculated to lower the national credit or tarnish the national reputation for good faith.

"I am aware," said he one day in debate, "that financial measures are dull and uninviting in comparison with those heroic themes which have absorbed the attention of Congress for the last five years. To turn from the consideration of armies and navies, victories and defeats, to the array of figures which exhibits the debt, expenditure, taxation, and industry of the nation requires no little courage and self-denial; but to these questions we must come, and to their solution Congress and all thoughtful citizens must give their best efforts for many years to come."

It was not only a wise but a bold thing to do, for among the members of his own party, in Ohio, financial heresies had crept in, and a party platform was adopted in 1867, looking to the payment of the bonds of the Government in greenbacks. He was advised to say nothing on the subject lest it should cost him the nomination in the election just at hand; but he met the question boldly, and declared that the district could only have his services "on the ground of the honest payment of this debt, and these bonds in coin, according to the letter and spirit of the contract."

Nevertheless he was renominated by acclamation.

Chapter XXVIII—The Man For The Hour.

On the 15th day of April, 1865, the country was thrilled from end to end by the almost incredible report that President Lincoln had been assassinated the evening previous while witnessing a performance at Ford's Theatre, in Washington.

The war was not yet over, but peace seemed close at hand. All were anticipating its return with joy. The immense sacrifices of loyal men seemed about to be rewarded when, like a clap of thunder in a clear sky, came the terrible tidings, which were flashed at once over the telegraphic wires to the remotest parts of the country.

The people at first were shocked and silent. Then a mighty wave of wrath swept over the country—a wrath that demanded victims, and seemed likely in the principal city of the country to precipitate scenes not unlike those witnessed in the "Reign of Terror" in France.

The boys who read this story can not understand the excitement of that day. It was unlike the deep sorrow that came upon us all on the second of July, for Lincoln died a martyr, at a time when men's passions had been stirred by sectional strife, and his murder was felt to be an outgrowth of the passions which it engendered; but Garfield fell, slain by the hand of a worthless wretch, acting upon his own responsibility.

I shall venture, for the information of young readers, to whom it may be new, to quote the graphic description of an eye-witness, contributed to General Brisbin's interesting life of our subject:

"I shall never forget the first time I saw General Garfield. It was the morning after President Lincoln's assassination. The country was excited to its utmost tension.... The newspaper head lines of the transaction were set up in the largest type, and the high crime was on every one's tongue. Fear took possession of men's minds as to the fate of the Government, for in a few hours the news came on that Seward's throat was cut, and that attempts had been made on the lives of others of the Government officers. Posters were stuck up everywhere, in great black letters, calling upon the loyal citizens of New York, Brooklyn, Jersey City, and neighboring places, to meet around the Wall Street Exchange and give expression to their sentiments.

"It was a dark and terrible hour. What might come next no one could tell, and men spoke with bated breath. The wrath of the workingmen was simply uncontrollable, and revolvers and knives were in the hands of thousands of Lincoln's friends, ready, at the first opportunity, to take the law into their own hands, and avenge the death of their martyred President upon any and all who dared to utter a word against him.

"Eleven o'clock A.M. was the hour set for the rendezvous. Fifty thousand people crowded around the Exchange building, cramming and jamming the streets, and wedged in as tight as men could stand together. With a few to whom special favor was extended, I went over from Brooklyn at nine A.M., and even then, with the utmost difficulty, found my way to the reception room for the speakers in the front of the Exchange building, and looking out on the high and massive balcony, whose front was protected by a massive iron railing.

"We sat in solemnity and silence, waiting for General Butler, who, it was announced, had started from Washington, and was either already in the city or expected every moment. Nearly a hundred generals, judges, statesmen, lawyers, editors, clergymen, and others were in that room waiting for Butler's arrival.

"We stepped out to the balcony to watch the fearfully solemn and swaying mass of people. Not a hurrah was heard, but for the most part a dead silence, or a deep, ominous muttering ran like a rising wave up the street toward Broadway, and again down toward the river on the right. At length the batons of the police were seen swinging in the air, far up on the left, parting the crowd, and pressing it back to make way for a carriage that moved slowly, and with difficult jags through the compact multitude, and the cry of 'Butler!' 'Butler!' rang out with tremendous and thrilling effect, and was taken up by the people.

"But not a hurrah! Not one! It was the cry of a great people asking to know how their President died. The blood bounced in our veins, and the tears ran like streams down our faces. How it was done I forget, but Butler was pulled through, and pulled up, and entered the room where we had just walked back to meet him. A broad crape, a yard long, hung from his left arm—terrible contrast with the countless flags that were waving the nation's victory in the breeze. We first realized then the sad news that Lincoln was dead. When Butler entered the room we shook hands. Some spoke, some could not; all were in tears. The only word Butler had for us all, at the first break of the silence was, 'Gentleman, he died in the fullness of his fame!' and as he spoke it his lips quivered, and the tears ran fast down his cheeks.

"Then, after a few moments, came the speaking. And you can imagine the effect, as the crape fluttered in the wind while his arm was uplifted. Dickinson, of New York State, was fairly wild. The old man leaped over the iron railing of the balcony and stood on the very edge, overhanging the crowd, gesticulating in the most vehement manner, and almost bidding the crowd 'burn up the rebel, seed, root, and branch,' while a bystander held on to his coat-tail to keep him from falling over.

"By this time the wave of popular indignation had swelled to its crest. Two men lay bleeding on one of the side streets, the one dead, the other next to dying; one on the pavement, the other in the gutter. They had said a moment before that 'Lincoln ought to have been shot long ago!' They were not allowed to say it again. Soon two long pieces of scantling stood out above the heads of the crowd, crossed at the top like the letter X, and a looped halter pendant from the junction, a dozen men following its slow motion through the masses, while 'Vengeance' was the cry.

"On the right suddenly the shout arose, 'The World!' 'The World!' and a movement of perhaps eight thousand to ten thousand turning their faces in the direction of that building began to be executed.

"It was a critical moment. What might come no one could tell, did that crowd get in front of that office; police and military would have availed little, or been too late. A telegram had just been read from Washington, 'Seward is dying!' Just then, at that juncture, a man stepped forward with a small flag in his hand and beckoned to the crowd.

"'Another telegram from Washington!'

"And then, in the awful stillness of the crisis, taking advantage of the hesitation of the crowd, whose steps had been arrested a moment, a right arm was lifted skyward, and a voice, clear and steady, loud and distinct, spoke out:

"'Fellow-citizens! Clouds and darkness are round about Him! His pavilion is dark waters, and thick clouds of the skies! Justice and judgment are the establishment of His throne! Mercy and truth shall go before His face! Fellow-citizens! God reigns and the Government at Washington still lives!'

"The effect was tremendous. The-crowd stood rooted to the ground with awe, gazing at the motionless orator, and thinking of God and the security of the Government in that hour. As the boiling waters subside and settle to the sea, when some strong wind beats it down, so the tumult of the people sank and became still. All took it as a divine omen. It was a triumph of eloquence, inspired by the moment, such as falls to but one man's lot, and that but once in a century. The genius of Webster, Choate, Everett, Seward, never reached it. What might have happened had the surging and maddened mob been let loose, none can tell. The man for the crisis was on the spot, more potent than Napoleon's guns at Paris. I inquired what was his name.

"The answer came in a low whisper, 'It is General Garfield, of Ohio.'"

It was a most dramatic scene, and a wonderful exhibition of the power of one man of intellect over a furious mob.

How, would the thrilling intensity of the moment have been increased, had some prophet, standing beside the inspired speaker, predicted that a little more than sixteen years later he who had calmed the crowd would himself fall a victim to violence, while filling the same high post as the martyred Lincoln. Well has it been said that the wildest dream of the romancer pales beside the solemn surprise of the Actual. Not one among the thousands there assembled, not the speaker himself, would have considered such a statement within the range of credibility. Alas, that it should have been!—that the monstrous murder of the good Lincoln should have been repeated in these latter days, and the nation have come a second time a mourner!

Will it be believed that Garfield's arrival and his speech had been quite accidental, though we must also count it as Providential, since it stayed the wild excesses of an infuriated mob. He had only arrived from Washington that morning, and after breakfast had strolled through the crowded streets, in entire ignorance of the great gathering at the Exchange building.

He turned down Broadway, and when he saw the great concourse of people, he kept on, to learn what had brought them together. Butler was speaking when he arrived, and a friend who recognized him beckoned him to come up there, above the heads of the multitude.

When he heard the wild cries for "Vengeance!" and noticed the swaying, impassioned movements of the crowd, he saw the danger that menaced the public order, and in a moment of inspiration he rose, and with a gesture challenged the attention of the crowd. What he said he could not have told five minutes afterward. "I only know," he said afterward, "that I drew the lightning from that crowd, and brought it back to reason."