THE STORY OF GARFIELD.

CHAPTER I.

THE FAR WEST.

The United States Sixty Years ago—The "Queen City" of the West—The Rush for New Lands—Marvellous Growth of American Cities.

Go to Liverpool or Glasgow, and embark on one of the great ocean steamers, which are constantly crossing the Atlantic. Sail westwards for about a week, and you will reach the eastern shores of the New World.

If you land at New York, you will find yourself in one of the largest cities on the face of the globe. You will also find the country largely peopled by the same race as yourself, and everywhere you will be addressed in your own language. You may travel for weeks from town to town, and from city to city, until you are lost in wonder at the vast and populous empire which English-speaking people have founded and built up on the other side of the Atlantic.

Where is the New World of fancy and fiction so graphically described in Indian stories and tales of backwoods life? And where are the vast prairies and almost boundless forests of sober fact, where the bear, the wolf, and the buffalo roamed at will—the famous hunting-grounds of the Red Indians and the trappers of the Old World?

Where is the "Far West" of song and story? Where are the scenes of Fenimore Cooper's charming descriptions, which have thrown a halo of romance over the homes of the early settlers who first explored those unknown regions?

For the most part they are gone for ever, as they appeared to the eyes of the pioneers and pathfinders, who wandered for weeks through the wilderness, without hearing the sound of any human voice but their own. Now on forest and prairie land stand great cities, equal in population and wealth to many famous places, which were grey with age before the New World was discovered. The trading posts, once scattered over a wide region, where Indians and white hunters met to barter the skins of animals for fire-water and gunpowder, have disappeared before the advances of civilisation, and the uninhabited wilderness of fifty years ago has become the centre of busy industries of world-wide fame and importance.

Sixty years ago, fifteen of the largest cities in the United States had no existence. They were not born. Living men remember when they were first staked out on the unbroken prairie, and the woodsman's axe was busy clearing the ground for the log huts of the first settlers who founded the cities of to-day.

At that period, Chicago, now a "Millionaire city," and the second in America, consisted of a little fort and a few log huts. There was scarcely a white woman in the settlement, and no roads had been constructed. The ground on which the great city now stands could have been bought for the sum now demanded for a few square feet in one of its busy streets.

No wonder the American people are proud of "the Queen City of the West." It stands far inland, a thousand miles from the ocean, and yet it is an important port on the shores of Lake Michigan, and steamers from London can land their cargoes at its quays. More than twenty thousand vessels enter and leave the port in one year. It is the greatest grain and provision market in the world.

It may with truth be said that in America cities rise up almost in a night-time. The forest and the prairie are one day out of the reach of civilisation, and the next they are one with the throbbing centres of life and progress. The railway, the means of communication, changes all as by a wizard's touch.

One day the news spread through a certain district, that two lines of railway were to cross at a certain point in the wilderness. Settlers at once crowded to the place, and next day the land was staked out in town lots, with all the details of streets, squares, and market-place. Soon afterwards, shanties were seen on the prairies, moving with all speed, on rollers, towards the new town. On the second day a number of houses were under construction, while the owners camped near by in tents. In a few months hundreds of dwellings had been erected, and a newspaper established to chronicle the doings of the inhabitants.

"The old nations of the earth creep on at snail's pace: the Republic thunders past with the rush of an express," says a recent American writer. "Think of it!" he continues; "a Great Britain and Ireland called forth from the wilderness, as if by magic, in less than the span of a man's few days upon earth."

This marvellous growth and rapid change from wilderness to cultivation must be known and understood by readers on this side of the Atlantic, they can appreciate the story of a Lincoln or a Garfield who began life in a log hut in a backwoods settlement in the Far West, and made their way to the White House, the residence of the ruler of an empire as large as the whole of Europe.

CHAPTER II.

THE PIONEERS.

A New England Village—Hardships of Emigrants—The Widow Ballou and her Daughter Eliza—The Humble Dwelling of Abram Garfield—The Garfields and the Boyntons—The Removal to a New Home—The Wonderful Baby-Boy.

The early settlers from the Old World first peopled the eastern shores of the Atlantic, and founded the New England States, New York State, and the whole seaboard from Maine to Florida.

A New England village was a collection of log houses on the edge of a deep forest. Snow drifted into the room through the cracks in the walls, and the howling of wolves made night hideous around them. The children were taught in log schoolhouses, and the people worshipped in log churches.

Savage Indians kept the settlers in a state of continual fear. Sometimes they would suddenly surround a solitary house, kill all the inmates, and set fire to the dwelling. Again and again have the children been aroused from their sleep by the fearful Indian war-whoop, which was more dreaded than the howling of the wolves. Even women learned to use guns and other weapons, that they might be able to defend their homes from these savage assaults.

The log house villages grew into populous places, and the descendants of the "Pilgrims" were not always satisfied to remain in the cities founded by their forefathers. Wonderful stories were told in the towns of the amazing fruitfulness of the forest and prairie land out West, which induced large numbers to sell their property and set out on the tedious and adventurous journey.

Before the great lines of railway were constructed, which now stretch across the North American continent from the Atlantic to the Pacific, there was a constant stream of emigration from the East to the West. Large waggons carried the women and children, and the stores of necessary articles, which must be conveyed at all cost, for they could not be obtained in the localities to which the pioneers bent their steps.

Slowly the emigrant trains made their way through roadless regions. They had to ford rivers, wade through swamps, and cut paths through thick forests. Weeks, and even months, were spent on journeys which are now accomplished in less than twenty-four hours.

Numerous difficulties and manifold dangers beset the wanderers' path; yet, regardless of both, they pushed on with infinite courage and patience. Nor was the journey through the wilds without a tinge of romance to the younger and more adventurous spirits, who enjoyed the freedom they could not have in the towns and cities.

About eighty years ago, a widow and her family—a son and a daughter—packed up all their worldly possessions in an emigrant waggon, and started for the West. Widow Ballou made her home in the State of Ohio, which at that time was only peopled by a few scattered settlers. Five years afterwards, a young man named Abram Garfield started on the same journey. It is said that he was more anxious to renew his acquaintance with the Ballou family than to make his fortune. The widow's daughter Eliza was the attraction that drew him into the Western wilds.

On the third of February 1821, Abram Garfield and Eliza Ballou became man and wife, and their first home was a log cabin, which the young husband erected at Newburg, near Cleveland. It was an isolated spot, for Cleveland, the larger place, then consisted of a few log cabins, containing a population of about one hundred persons.

The humble dwelling of Abram Garfield and his young wife had but one large room. The three windows were of greased paper, a substitute for glass, and the furniture was home made and of the rudest description. Wood was the chief material used. There were wooden stools, a wooden bed, and wooden plates and dishes. A frying-pan, an iron pot, and a kettle, made up the list of utensils which were absolutely necessary.

Nine years passed away, during which the young couple were very happy in each other's love, and three children were added to their little family circle. Abram worked on the land, and was for a time employed in the construction of the Ohio and Pennsylvanian Canal. To provide for his growing family, the young husband then bought fifty acres of land, a few miles away from his first home. At the same time, Amos Boynton, who had married Mrs. Garfield's sister, also bought a tract of land in the same locality.

The two families removed to the new scene of their labours at the same time, and lived together in one log cabin, until they had erected a second dwelling. When this was done, the Garfields and the Boyntons settled down to reclaim the wilderness. They had to depend on each other for society, as their nearest neighbour lived seven miles away.

Garfield's new home was built of unhewn logs, notched and laid one upon another, to the height of twelve feet in front and eight feet behind. The spaces between the logs were filled with clay and mud, to keep out the wind and the rain. The roof was covered with boards, and the floor was made of logs, each split into two parts and laid the flat side up. A plank door and three small windows completed the primitive dwelling. There was but one large room on the ground floor, twenty by thirty feet, and a loft above, to which access was obtained by a ladder. In the loft were the straw beds on which the children slept.

The land which the pioneers had bought was part of the forest, and was therefore covered with timber. This had to be cleared away before the land could be brought into cultivation. Much hard work and steady application were needed to accomplish this purpose. Abram Garfield was a strong, well-made man, who shrank from no labour, however hard, and boldly faced every difficulty with a stout heart and a determined will. Early and late he toiled on his farm, cheered by the presence of his wife and children, who were all the world to him. The trees fell before his axe, and ere long he had room to sow his first crop. With a thankful heart he saw the grain ripen, and his first harvest was safely gathered in before the winter storms came on.

In January 1830 he removed to his new home, and in November 1831 his fourth child was born. This baby boy received the name of James Abram Garfield. Little did the humble backwoodsman dream that the name he lovingly gave his child would one day be on the lips of millions of his fellow-countrymen; that it would rank with those of princes, kings, and emperors; and that it would be linked for ever with the history of the United States of America.

CHAPTER III.

A FIRE IN THE FOREST.

The Effects of Prairie Fires—How Abram Garfield saved his Crops—The sudden Illness and Death of Abram Garfield—The Grave to the corner of the Wheatfield.

One of General Sherman's veteran soldiers was once describing a prairie fire. When he had finished his story, he raised himself to his full six feet height, and with flashing eyes said, "If I should ever catch a man firing a prairie or a forest, as God helps me, I would shoot him down in his deed."

No wonder that the old soldier was fired with indignation when he thought of the terrible consequences which often resulted from such thoughtless or wanton proceedings. The loss to settlers is often appalling. The prairies, which in the day-time seem dry, dull, and uninteresting, give place at night to the lurid play of the fire fiend, and the heavens and horizon seem like a furnace. It is a grand, yet awful sight. Cheeks blanch as the wind sweeps its volume towards the observer, or across his track.

Full in the distance is seen the long line of bright flame stretching for miles, with its broad band of dark smoke-clouds above. Often it rages unchecked for miles and miles, where the cabins of the settlers have just been set up. No words can describe, no pencil paint, the look of terror when the settler beholds advancing towards him the devouring element. When it is first seen, all hands turn out, and a desperate attempt is made to overcome the common foe.

Sometimes a counter fire is started, which, proceeding from the settler's log house in the face of the wind, towards the grander coming volume, takes away its force, and leaves it nothing to feed upon. Then it dies away in that direction. In one instance an emigrant was travelling in a close covered waggon, when he was overtaken by the flames. In a moment, horses, family, waggon, and everything were destroyed, and scarcely a vestige remained of what had been.

Abram Garfield had successfully planted his second crop, which was nearly ready for the harvest, when he one day heard the terrible cry, "A fire in the forest." No one knew better than he did the meaning of those fearful words. Not a moment was to be lost, for he saw that it was coming in the direction of his little farm. He had no one to help him but his wife and his two eldest children, but they all set to work to save their home and the ripening crops.

Rapidly they threw up a bank of earth between the fields and the coming fire, and they so far succeeded that it swept round their homestead and continued its progress beyond.

After the long, hard fight with the fire, on a hot day in July, Mr. Garfield sat down on the trunk of a tree to rest. He had, however, conquered one enemy only to fall a victim to another. While sitting resting, and cooling himself in the open air, he caught a chill. That night he awoke in great pain, and his wife thought that he would die before help could be obtained.

In the early morning she sent her daughter Mehetabel for Uncle Boynton, and bade Thomas fetch their nearest neighbour. No doctor lived near, and the friends did all they could for the stricken man. Their efforts were in vain. Gradually he became weaker, and then without a struggle he passed away. His last words to his wife were: "I have planted four saplings in these woods; I must now leave them to your care."

Mrs. Garfield carried her burden of sorrow to that Heavenly Father whom she had learned to trust before the dark cloud of bereavement fell upon her heart and home. But for her confidence in God, and her belief that He would aid her to bring up her fatherless children, she might have given up in despair.

Far from churchyard or cemetery, the widow arranged to bury her dead in the plot of land he had saved from the fire, at the cost of his life. A rough wooden box was made to contain the remains of the brave husband and loving father, and a grave was dug in a corner of the wheatfield. Four or five neighbours, all who lived within a radius of ten miles, attended the funeral, and tried to cheer the hearts of the widow and orphans by sympathetic words and kind and thoughtful actions. Tenderly they bore the body of Abram Garfield to its last resting-place and committed it to the earth, without a prayer except the silent ones which no ear but God's heard.

Then they accompanied the bereaved ones back to their own desolate home. How desolate it was, none who read this book can fully realise. To be alone in the wilderness is an awful experience, which intensified the loss a hundred-fold.

CHAPTER IV.

THE FOUR SAPLINGS.

The Father's Dying Charge—Advised to give up the Farm—A Noble Resolve—Brave little Thomas—A Hard Time of Trial—The Harvest that saved the Family.

Mrs. Garfield had no time to nurse her sorrow. She knew that she must be up and doing, for she had to be both father and mother to her children. "The four saplings" which the dying father had committed to her care were so young that she could scarcely expect much assistance from them.

Winter was fast approaching, and the strong arm of the husband and father would have been severely taxed to supply all the wants of the family. Without the breadwinner there seemed to be nothing before them but starvation. Uncle Boynton was consulted, and he advised his sister-in-law to give up her farm and return to her friends. He said that she could not hope to carry it on alone, and by her unaided efforts support her children.

Mrs. Garfield saw how dark the future was, and yet she could not follow the advice so kindly given. She thought of the lonely grave in the wheatfield, and declared that nothing would induce her to move away from that sacred spot. She felt somehow that she derived comfort and support from the knowledge that she was near the dead husband, who had prepared this home for her and her children. Added to this feeling, there was the self-respect which independence always brings. She saw that if she sold her farm, which was only partly paid for, the money she received would be swallowed up in paying debts, and in the cost of the removal of her family. But this would leave her and her children homeless and penniless, and she decided to remain on the farm.

It was a noble resolve, and came from a brave heart. To remain meant years of hard work, years of patient endurance, years of quiet suffering and numberless privations; yet she calmly faced them all, that she might do her duty to her children, and faithfully discharge the trust imposed upon her. First, she sold a part of her farm, and with the money she paid her debts. Then, asking God to help her, she prepared to fight her way through the difficulties which beset her path.

Her eldest son, Thomas, was only eleven years old when his father died. Mehetabel, his sister, was twelve, a younger sister was seven, and James was not quite two. Thomas was a brave little fellow, and when his mother spoke to him about the work that would have to be done, he offered to undertake it all. Though a boy in years, he spoke and acted like a man.

That first winter, alone in the backwoods, was a terrible time. Snowstorms swept around the humble dwelling, and wolves howled in the forest during the long winter nights. Often the children lay awake in terror when they heard the fearful cries of the hungry animals, and knew that their brave protector was no longer there to defend them from danger.

As soon as spring came round once more, Thomas borrowed a horse from a neighbour, and went about the farm work as he had seen his father do. With the assistance of his mother and, his eldest sister, he planted wheat, corn, potatoes, and other vegetables. Then his mother helped him to fence the wheatfield which contained her husband's grave. With her own hands she brought wood from the forest and split it up into rails for that purpose. Then the whole of the cleared land, in which the log house stood, was fenced, and the patient workers waited for the harvest.

The waiting time is often the hardest to bear. Slowly but surely their little store of corn grew less and less. Fearing to run short before the harvest gave them a fresh supply, Mrs. Garfield carefully measured their slender stock, and as carefully doled out the daily allowance which alone would enable them to pull through.

She had no money to buy more, and therefore she gave up one meal a day for herself, that her children might not suffer from hunger. Still she found that there was barely sufficient, and the devoted mother took only one meal a day until the harvest gave a fresh supply.

Nor did her children know that she pinched herself for their sakes; as far as they knew, she had enough, and her self-denial was not allowed to throw a shadow over their young lives, by the thought that their mother was starving herself that they might not suffer.

A bountiful harvest, in the autumn of 1834, put an end to the long-continued strain, and from that time the little household had sufficient food. When the noble mother saw her table once more well supplied with the necessaries of life, she thanked God for all His goodness and loving-kindness to her little flock. Her children had indeed been saved from the pain of hunger, but she never lost the deep lines of care and anxiety brought upon her face in those early years of her widowhood.

CHAPTER V.

A RESTLESS SCHOLAR.

An Intelligent Child—The First School—James questions the Teacher—Mrs. Garfield's Offer—Winning a Prize.

"Eliza, this boy will be a scholar some day!" said Abram Garfield when speaking of James to his wife a short time before his death. Even at that early age, for the little fellow was not two years old, his father saw an unusual intelligence manifested, which gave him a high estimate of his baby boy's intellect.

His mother took great delight in telling him Bible stories, and his inquiring mind prompted him to ask many curious questions, which sounded strange coming from one so young. His acquaintance with the stories of Noah and the Flood, Joseph and his coat of many colours, Moses and the Red Sea, and other old Testament incidents, was remarkable.

Often he amused the children by asking questions, some of which none of them could answer. Then his eyes sparkled with delight as he gave the required information. His retentive memory never seemed to be at fault. What he once heard he remembered. The sturdy pioneers, who had turned their backs on towns and cities to make their homes in the wilderness, did not wish their children to grow up in ignorance. The little settlement soon became a village, and the opening of a school was an event of the greatest importance.

Mrs. Garfield heard the news with thankfulness. A school only a mile and a half away was a boon to her and her children. Now they would get the education required to fit them for a useful life. More than this she did not dare to look forward to.

Jimmy was only three years old when the welcome news reached the log cabin. Thomas, who was not thirteen, at once decided that his little brother should go to school. He would have been glad to go as well, but he knew that his time would be fully occupied in digging up the potatoes and harvesting the corn. Never was mother prouder of her son than was Mrs. Garfield of the sturdy lad, who was ready and anxious to fill a father's place to his brother and sisters, at an age when most boys think only of tops and kites.

About this time Jimmy had his first pair of shoes. Thomas was the good fairy who provided them. By doing odd jobs for a neighbour, he earned enough money to pay the shoemaker. As houses were few and far between, it was the custom for the man to live and do his work in the houses of those who employed him. The happy boy had therefore the pleasure of watching the shoemaker at work. He saw the leather cut into shape, and then formed into shoes to fit his feet. Then there came the joy of wearing them, and the satisfaction of being able to run about without fear of treading on a sharp stone or thorn.

Mrs. Garfield was busy with her needle for days before the school opened, preparing the necessary clothing, that her children might appear neat and tidy. And when the day came round, Mehetabel set out with Jimmy on her back, and her younger sister by her side. When they returned, Mrs. Garfield and Thomas eagerly questioned the scholars, who declared that they had had "such a good time." Full of excitement, they described the events of the day, and regarded the twenty-one scholars present as a most astonishing number.

Yet the school was but a log cabin, like the one in which the Garfield family lived. The teacher was a young man, who taught school one part of the year to earn money to pay for his education in the other part. The teacher received a certain sum of money for his work, and the parents of the children took him by turns to board in their houses. James was an apt scholar, and at once began to question the teacher, to the no small amusement of the scholars. When the teacher told him anything, he wanted to know why it was so, and how the teacher knew. And this curiosity extended to the names of the letters of the alphabet.

Winter came, and James pursued his studies at home. The long winter evenings were spent in reading. Lying on the wooden floor, he eagerly read page after page, by the light of the huge log fire which burned on the hearth. Before he was six years old he had read every book within his reach, and wanted more. Wishful to shorten the journey to school, Mrs. Garfield offered to give a piece of land on one corner of her farm, if her neighbours would put up a building on it. Those who lived near welcomed the project, and the schoolhouse was built.

Then she obtained a teacher from New Hampshire, where she was born, and she arranged that he should begin by boarding with them. Then the whole family worked hard to get all the farm work done before he came, that Thomas might take advantage of his presence among them. The new teacher found his pupils, and especially our friend Jimmy, so very restless, that he made the following rule: "Scholars cannot study their lessons and look about the room; therefore gazing about is strictly forbidden."

James did not know that his attention was everywhere, and that he was always on the alert to hear and to see everything that went on, until he had several times been reminded of the rule. Again and again he pleaded that he had forgotten, and bent his eyes on his book, only to lift them again a few minutes afterwards, to look at something which arrested his attention.

At first the teacher did not understand the active, restless mind that kept the boy in a state of perpetual motion, and he was disappointed when he found that the better James obeyed his rule, the slower progress he made. The fact that he had to think about the rule, and the effort he made to be still and attentive to one thing, retarded him more than any involuntary motions would have done. The teacher spoke to Mrs. Garfield about her boy's restlessness, and said that he feared he should not be able to make a scholar of James. She was so much grieved to hear this, that the little fellow burst into tears, and, burying his face in his mother's lap, said, "I will be a good boy! I mean to be a good boy!"

The teacher saw that he had made a mistake, and that, in trying to keep the boy perfectly still, he was cramping his energies and repressing his natural activity of mind and body. From that day the lad made rapid progress, and he finished the term by winning the prize of a New Testament, which had been promised to the scholar who was best in study and behaviour.

CHAPTER VI.

MAN-MAKING.

At Work on the Farm—A Good Mother's Teaching—A School Incident—The Building of a New School—Bible Lessons—The Garfields' Motto.

The Garfield farm provided for many of the wants of the family, but money was needed to provide clothing and books, and to pay the teachers who came from time to time. Thomas, therefore, earned all he could by engaging himself for short periods to any of the neighbours who required help. James attended school before he was four years old, and began to work on the farm when he was only eight. In the absence of Thomas he took his elder brother's place. He chopped wood, milked the cows, and made himself useful in a variety of ways.

Mrs. Garfield was anxious to give Thomas a chance to make his way in the world, and therefore she arranged that James should make himself as perfect as possible in farm work before Thomas was of age. At the same time, she told James that she looked forward to the time when he would be able to take his place as a teacher or a preacher. In the meantime, it was his duty to do the work that lay nearest to his hand. Just as he set himself to learn with all his might, in the same way he went about the work of the farm. When anything had to be done, he said, "I can do it," and he did. He was not always successful at the first attempt, but his self-reliance caused him to peg away in the face of every difficulty and even seeming failure, and he invariably succeeded in the end.

His mother was ever on the watch to help him by her kindly counsels and wise advice. Many an old proverb, which sank deep into the lad's heart and helped to build up his character, first fell on his ears from his mother's lips. She taught him that man's will to do well was rewarded by God's blessing on his labours. The will to do finds the way to do, and God helps the one who does his best.

This was a revelation to James, who thought that God only helped people to be good. His mother opened his eyes to the fact that this meant to be good in everything—"good boys, good men, good workers, good thinkers, good farmers, and good teachers." After that, he regarded God as One who would help him in his daily labour and make all his efforts successful. Or, in other words, he saw clearly the truth of the proverb: "God helps those who help themselves."

Two phases of his character were developed at a very early age, and these, coupled with good natural abilities, made him master of the situation. As we have already seen, he had plenty of self-reliance, the feeling that he could do anything that could be done, and the determination to make the most of himself. Then he was ready-witted, and able to grapple with unexpected emergencies. This will be seen in an incident which took place when he was a boy at school.

One day he was sitting by the side of his cousin, Henry Boynton, when the two lads began to indulge in little tricks with each other. The teacher noticed their inattention, and, when they laughed out a little louder than they had intended, he called out, "James and Henry, lay aside your books and go home, both of you."

They were so little prepared for such a course of action, that for a moment they remained in their seats with very serious looks in their faces. They both knew that the teacher's authority would be supported at home, and that their parents would be grieved, if not angry, at such a wanton breach of the rules of the school, as that of which they had been guilty.

"Don't dilly-dally!" exclaimed the teacher; "go home immediately!"

The boys passed out of the door at once, and sadly turned homewards, wondering how to make the best of the disaster which had befallen them. You will remember that the school was built on the Garfield farm, and that therefore it was quite near James's home. The sharp little fellow suddenly thought of this, and off he ran as fast as he could. Without being seen by his mother, he reached home, and started back again to the school. Then, without a word, he slipped inside and took his seat.

Looking up, the teacher saw him sitting there, and, never thinking that his order had been obeyed, he called out in a severe tone of voice, "James, did I not tell you to go home?"

"I have been home," said the boy quite calmly.

"Been home?" replied the teacher, who was at a loss how to deal with the boy's ready wit in getting out of the difficulty.

"Yes, sir," he said, "I have been home. You did not tell me to stay there."

What could the teacher do under such circumstances but tell the boy that he might remain? He saw that James had learned a lesson, and would not again incur the risk of being sent home in disgrace. Unlike many boys, James showed neither a sulky nor a discontented spirit. He knew that the punishment was deserved, and therefore he set about undoing the mischief by prompt obedience, and his ready wit suggested a way out of the trouble.

Before he left home, Thomas was anxious to make his mother as comfortable as possible. When he heard that the people of the district had decided to build a better school, he bought the old one, and removed it. Then he rebuilt it alongside his mother's cabin.

Sunday was regarded by the pioneers as a day of rest, but the younger members of the various families had never even seen a place of worship. Now and then a travelling preacher called at the settlement, and during his brief stay held a service in one of the log cabins or in the schoolhouse. A journey of five or six miles was often taken to be present at such a service. Whole families, in waggons, on horseback, and even on foot, might have been seen wending their way to the place appointed.

The opportunities for public worship were too few to be neglected, and the dwellers in the wilderness set a high value on such occasional ministrations.

Mrs. Garfield eagerly welcomed the preachers of the gospel who passed that way, and was glad to place the best fare her cabin afforded before the earnest men, who braved many dangers, and suffered innumerable inconveniences, to break to the settlers the Bread of life. The Bible was the Book of books in the Garfield cabin. Every day it gave the widow and her children the Divine message, and on Sundays Mrs. Garfield never failed to do the duty of teacher and preacher to her little flock.

The reading of God's book every day, and especially on God's day, was her invariable rule, until her children knew more about the contents and the teaching of the sacred volume, than many town children who enjoyed greater privileges and more numerous opportunities.

How and why the Bible was written, were questions which Mrs. Garfield answered as well as she was able. Why men were wicked, and what hindered them from being good, puzzled James. To him it was a great mystery that any one could continue to do wrong when God was always willing to help them to do right.

At this time a great wave of temperance passed over that part of the country, and James at once questioned his mother about the movement. Living so far away from the centres of population, the lad had no opportunity of seeing for himself the terrible evils of drunkenness. As far as it was necessary, his mother told him of the mischief done by strong drink, and how much better it was to have nothing to do with it. Here again the self-reliant boy had a difficulty. Just as he could not understand how men could help being good, neither could he understand how they could continue to drink, when they found that it only ended in ruin. Yet he heard enough to convince him that strong drink was an enemy, and therefore, at the early age of eight, he became a temperance reformer. Little did the patient mother think that her humble efforts at man-making would produce such grand results, and that she was rearing in that lonely cabin one of the noblest characters the world has ever seen.

The motto of the Garfield family was, "Through faith I conquer." That motto was woven into the life of the boy. Pure in spirit, prompt in action, loyal in thought and deed to God and his mother, James came to regard the boy or man who did not dare to do right as the greatest coward of all.

With such a firm foundation to rest upon, we do not wonder that James Garfield's life has been, and will be, an inspiration to many young men on both sides of the Atlantic.