From Canal Boy to President by Horatio Alger, Jr.

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

FROM

CANAL BOY TO PRESIDENT,

OR THE

BOYHOOD AND MANHOOD

OF

JAMES A. GARFIELD.

BY

HORATIO ALGER, JR.,

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

_ILLUSTRATED_.

NEW YORK

AMERICAN PUBLISHERS CORPORATION

310-318 SIXTH AVENUE

1881

TO

HARRY AND JAMES GARFIELD

WHOSE PRIVATE SORROW

IS THE PUBLIC GRIEF,

THIS MEMORIAL OF THEIR ILLUSTRIOUS FATHER

Is inscribed

WITH THE WARMEST SYMPATHY.

GENERAL PREFACE.

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

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

Newtonville, Mass.

PREFACE.

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

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

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

HORATIO ALGER, JR.

New York, _Oct_. 8, 1881.

CONTENTS.

I.--THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES

II.--GROWING IN WISDOM AND STATURE

III.--IN QUEST OF FORTUNE

IV.--ON THE TOW-PATH

V.--AN IMPORTANT CONVERSATION

VI.--JAMES LEAVES THE CANAL

VII.--THE CHOICE OF A VOCATION

VIII.--GEAUGA SEMINARY

IX.--WAYS AND MEANS

X.--A COUSIN'S REMINISCENCES

XI.--LEDGE HILL SCHOOL

XII.--WHO SHALL BE MASTER?

XIII.--JAMES LEAVES GEAUGA SEMINARY

XIV.--AT HIRAM INSTITUTE

XV.--THREE BUSY YEARS

XVI.--ENTERING WILLIAMS COLLEGE

XVII.--LIFE IN COLLEGE

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

XIX.--GARFIELD AS A COLLEGE PRESIDENT

XX.--GARFIELD BECOMES A STATE SENATOR

XXI.--A DIFFICULT DUTY

XXII.--JOHN JORDAN'S DANGEROUS JOURNEY

XXIII.--GARFIELD'S BOLD STRATEGY

XXIV.--THE BATTLE OF MIDDLE CREEK

XXV.--THE PERILOUS TRIP UP THE BIG SANDY

XXVI.--THE CANAL-BOY BECOMES A CONGRESSMAN

XXVII.--GARFIELD'S COURSE IN CONGRESS

XXVIII.--THE MAN FOR THE HOUR

XXIX.--GARFIELD AS A LAWYER

XXX.--THE SCHOLAR IN POLITICS

XXXI.--THE TRIBUTES OF FRIENDS

XXXII.--FROM CANAL-BOY TO PRESIDENT

XXXIII.--THE NEW ADMINISTRATION

XXXIV.--THE TRAGIC END

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

XXXVI.--THE LESSONS OF HIS LIFE

THE

BOYHOOD AND MANHOOD

OF

JAMES A. GARFIELD.

CHAPTER I.

THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, I want to see you."

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

"How old are you?" asked the farmer.

"Eleven years old, sir."

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

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

"And you are used to farm work?"

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

"What does he want?" thought Thomas.

He soon learned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The farmer entered, and repeated his request.

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

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

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

"I will go," said Thomas promptly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, yes."

"That is good."

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

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

"Very well, mother."

"Was the work hard?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER II.

GROWING IN WISDOM AND STATURE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," answered James, eagerly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

"I heard that you wanted some wood chopped."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER III.

IN QUEST OF FORTUNE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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