< of the Builders' Guild. He resolved to be a carpenter; and from this day on was never for a moment without an object in life. The ambition to "be something" took many different turns, but was a force which, once created, could never be put down. The care and skill requisite to putting a house together, fitting the rafters into place, and joining part to part with mathematical precision, gave him an idea that these things were of a higher order than farm labor. Plain digging would no longer do; there must be a better chance to contrive something, to conjure up plans and ways and means in the brain, and show forth ideas by the skill of the hand. Consequently a variety of tools began to accumulate about James Garfield. There was a corner somewhere which, in imitation of the great carpenter who built their house, he called his "shop;" a rough bench, perhaps, with a few planes, and mallets, and chisels, and saws, and the like, to help in mending the gates and doors about the place. No independent farm can get along without such help, and of course these services were in constant demand. teens. The dexterity thus acquired soon led to earnings abroad. The first money Garfield ever received in this way was one dollar, which the village carpenter paid him for planing a hundred boards at a cent apiece. His active and earnest performance of every duty brought him plenty of offers, and between the ages of twelve and fifteen years he helped to put up a number of buildings in that district of country, some of which are standing to this day. Thus this young life passed away the precious time of the early Work and study; study and work. Hands and feet, marrow and muscle, all steadily engaged in the rugged discipline of labor, battling with nature for subsistence. But time rolls on; childhood fast recedes from that glory from the other side which fringes the dawn; and, as we move on, every rising sun wakes up a new idea. While our young friend gave his attention and strength to industry, his imagination began to live in a new world. He had been to school, and still went a few months each year; and the following incident will indicate what a good-hearted, bright school-boy he was. There was a spelling-match in the lit tle log school-house, in which James, who was thirteen years old, took part. The teacher told the scholars that if they whispered she would send them home. The lad standing next to James got confused, and to help him James told him how to spell the word. The teacher saw this, and said: "James, you know the rule; you must go home." James picked up his cap and left. In a very few seconds he returned and took his place in the class. "Why, how is this, James? I told you to go home," said his teacher. "I know it, and I went home," said James. But the log school-house, with its mystery of the three R's, was not sufficient. James was one of the boys who are born to the love of books. Whatever had an intelligent aspect, whatever thing had the color and glow of an idea, was by nature attractive to his mind, and this he sought with eagerness and zeal. Therefore, even before the boy could read, his mother had read to him; and afterwards winter evening and leisure summer hour alike went swiftly by. The scholar in him hungered for the scholar's meat and drink; which means books, and books, and never enough of them. These people did not have many volumes, but they used them only the more, and knew them the better. Among them all, first in their affections, was the Bible. The woman, whose staff at eighty, when bowed down under the great sorrow, was the Everlasting Word, loved the Bible in her youth, and led her children to it as to a fountain of pure water. Thus James early acquired some knowledge of the old Bible stories, and it is said was somewhat fond of showing his superior learning. This he did by asking his little friends profound questions, such as: "Who slew Absalom?" "What cities were destroyed with fire and brimstone > from the sky?" And when all had professed ignorance, he would invite their admiration by a revelation of the facts. At this period of time, however, it is likely that his lively imagination was more vividly impressed with two or three other books which had found their places on the book-shelf of the house-books of adventure, with their thrilling scenes, their deeds of danger, dashing and gallant. And accordingly it is related that about this time James Garfield became deeply interested in the life of Napoleon, as told by Grimshaw. How eagerly he must have followed out the magical story of that wonderful career of glory and blood through all its varied windings; seeing first a young Corsican lieutenant on the road to Paris, by sudden and brilliant successes rising quickly, step by step, but ever on the run, to be First Consul of the new French Republic, and then Emperor. Austerlitz, its carnage, its awful crisis, and its splendid victory; the terrible Russian campaign, with the untold horrors of that memorable retreat before the fierce troops of Cossack riders; on, and ever on through the changing fields of bright transfigurations and the Cimmerian darkness of defeat, down to the fell catastrophe at Waterloo, and young Garfield lived and moved in it all, like an old soldier of the Imperial Legion. Another brave old book he knew was a "Life of Marion," which had the added interest of telling the story of our own first great struggle for liberty. No wonder then, that, with such food for wild fancies as these at hand, James felt in his veins the hot blood of a martial hero, and resolved aloud, before his laughing relatives, that he meant to "be a soldier, and win great battles, as Napoleon did.” But the smoke of battle was yet afar off. So on flew the winter days and nights at more than lightning speed, in hours of work and school, books and dreams, and all the myriad modes and moods of human life. So, too, passed the summer time, whose busy labors preserved the family from want. Our young farmer and carpenter kept ever at the post of duty. Pressed by necessity from without, moved from within by the growing restlessness of a spirit which fed on stories of adventure, a nervous and ceaseless activity pushed him steadily forward to the new experiences which only waited for his coming. Another motive, more to the credit of his goodness of heart, which kept James busy, was that deathless love for his mother which, from the beginning, was the chief fountain of all good in his life. He knew how the faithful widow had lived and worked only for her children; that her hopes were bound up in their fortunes; and he determined that, as for him, she should not be disappointed. With this high purpose in mind, he worked on,-worked on the farm, labored on the neighboring farms, exercised his carpentering skill in country and in village, till his friends proudly said: "James Garfield is the most industrious boy in his neighborhood; there is not a lazy hair on his head." < When about fifteen years old, in the course of his trade, he was called on to assist in the building of an addition to a house, for a man who lived several miles away from the home farm. This man, whose business was that of a "black-salter," noticed the pe-> culiar activity and ingenuity displayed by James in his work, and took a liking to him. Being in need of such a person, he offered him his board and fourteen dollars a month to stay with him, help in the saltery, and superintend the financial part of the concern. After some meditation, and a consultation on the subject at home, James accepted the offer. This was against the judgment of Mrs. Garfield, whose advice was, at least, always respectfully heard, though not always followed. In this business he succeeded well, and was expected, by his employer, to make a first-class salter. But the spirit of adventure again revived in him. There came a new book, and a new epoch, and the old wish to become an American Napoleon took a fresh turn. He saw no way to be a soldier. The peaceful progress of the Ohio country, fast developing in agriculture and its attendant industries, did not offer very good opportunity for a great campaign, and military leadership was, therefore, not in demand. In this unfortunate conjuncture of civil surroundings with uncivil ambitions, James began to read books about the sea. "Jack Halyard" took the place of General Marion; white sails began to spread themselves in his brain; the story of Nelson and Tra- > falgar, and the like men and things began to take shape in his thought as the central facts of history; and a life on the ocean wave hung aloft before him as the summit of every aspiration worth a moment's entertainment. Through all these notions we can see only a reflection of the books he read. Give a child its first look at the world through blue spectacles, and the world will be blue to the child; give a boy his first ideas of the world beyond his neighborhood by means of soldiers and navies, and he will be soldier and sailor at once. James was now approaching the age of sixteen years. New force was added to the sea-fever by a work named "The Pirate's Own Book." New tales of adventure stirred his blood; he could even sympathize with the triumphs of a bold buccaneer, and with the Corsair sing: "Oh! who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide, While in this brittle state of mind no great provocation would he need to produce a break with the black-salter. Accordingly, an insult, which soon offered, led to a scene and a departure. Some < member of the family alluded to James as a "servant." servant." In an instant his warm blood rose to fever heat; he refused to stay another hour where such things could be said of him. The employer's stock of eloquence was too small to change the fiery youth's mind; and that night he slept again beneath his mother's roof. Hitherto the forces and facts which rested in and about James A. Garfield had kept him near home; the outward tending movement now became powerful, and struggled for control. With the passion for the sea at its height, he began to consider the situation. At home was the dear mother with her great longing that he should love books, go to school, and become a man among men, educated, a leader, and peer of the best in character and intellect. And how could he leave her? The struggle for life had not yet become easy on the farm, and his absence would be felt. "Leave us not," pleads the home. "The sea, land-lubber, the wide, free ocean," says the buccaneer within. At this point, while he reflected at home on these things, being out of employment, a new incident occurred. Our young friend had now acquired something more than the average strength of a full-grown man. Born of a hardy race, constant exercise of so many kinds was giving him extraordinary physical power. So he felt equal to the opportunity which offered |