Читать книгу The Life and Public Services of James A. Garfield - E. E. Brown - Страница 14

"'Tis beauteous night, the stars look brightly down

Upon the earth, decked in her robe of snow,

No light gleams at the window save my own,

Which gives its cheer to midnight and to me

And now with noiseless step sweet Memory comes,

And leads me gently through her twilight realms

What poet's tuneful lyre has ever sung,

Or delicatest pencil e'er portrayed

The enchanted shadowy land where Memory dwells?

It has its valleys, cheerless lone and drear,

Dark shaded by the mournful cypress tree,

And yet its sunlit mountain tops are bathed

In heaven's own blue. Upon its craggy cliffs,

Robed in the dreamy light of distant years,

Are clustered joys serene of other days,

Upon its gently sloping hillsides bend

The weeping willows o'er the sacred dust

Of dear departed ones, and yet in that land,

Whene'er our footsteps fall upon the shore,

They that were sleeping rise from out the dust

Of death's long silent years, and round us stand,

As erst they did before the prison tomb

Received their clay within its voiceless halls

The heavens that bend above that land are hung

With clouds of various hues some dark and chill

Surcharged with sorrow, cast then sombre shade

Upon the sunny, joyous land below,

Others are floating through the dreamy air,

White as the falling snow their margins tinged

With gold and crimson hues, then shadows fall

Upon the flowery meads and sunny slopes,

Soft as the shadows of angel's wing

When the rough battle of the day is done.

And evening's peace falls gently on the heart,

I bound away across the noisy years,

Unto the utmost verge of Memory's land,

Where earth and sky in dreamy distance meet,

And Memory dim with dark oblivion joins;

Where woke the first-remembered sounds that fell

Upon the ear in childhood's early morn;

And wandering thence, along the rolling years,

I see the shadow of my former self

Gliding from childhood up to man's estate.

The path of youth winds down through many a vale

And on the brink of many a dread abyss,

From out whose darkness comes no ray of light,

Save that a phantom dances o'er the gulf,

And beckons toward the verge. Again the path

Leads o'er a summit where the sunbeams fall;

And thus in light and shade, sunshine and gloom,

Sorrow and joy, this life-path leads along."

He was also a prominent member of the Philologian Society, of which he was afterwards elected president.

While James was at Williamstown, the anti-slavery contest was at a white heat. Charles Sumner had aroused the whole nation by his stirring, eloquent speeches in Congress; and when the tidings came of the attack made upon him by Preston Brooks of South Carolina, indignation meetings were held everywhere throughout the North. At the gathering in Williamstown, Garfield made a most powerful speech, denouncing slavery in the strongest terms.

"Hurrah for 'Old Gar!'" exclaimed his classmates; "the country will hear from him yet!"

When the fall term closed, James looked about for some position as teacher, and finally opened a writing-school in Pownal, Vermont. This brought him in quite a sum of money, and enlarged his circle of acquaintance. His sunny disposition, his energy, his warm-hearted, sympathetic nature, made him a great favorite wherever he went, and President Hopkins, writing of him at this time, says—

"He was prompt, frank, manly, social, in his tendencies; combining active exercise with habits of study, and thus did for himself what it is the object of a college to enable every young man to do—he made himself a MAN."

Professor, now President, Chadbourne adds his testimony as follows:—

"The college life of James Garfield was so perfect, so rounded, so pure, so in accordance with what it ought to be in all respects, that I can add nothing to it by eulogizing him. It was a noble college life; everything about him was high and noble and manly. He was one whom his teachers would never suspect as guilty of a dishonest or mean act, and one whom a dishonest or mean man would not approach. His moral and religious character, and marked intellectual ability, gave great promise of success in the world."

At the end of his first collegiate year, James visited his mother, who was then living with her married daughter in Solon, Ohio. What a tall, manly fellow he had grown to be! What a power he would be in the church, in the world! Her heart was full of grateful joy as she realized how abundantly God had answered her earnest prayers.

The next winter vacation James taught a school in Poestenkill, a little village some six miles from Troy, N.Y. There was a Church of the Disciples in the place, and James was a frequent attendant at the conference meetings. His able remarks and earnest exhortations excited so much comment that the pastor, Mr. Streeter, invited him to occupy his pulpit. After hearing him preach once, the people declared that they must hear him again, and so it came about that almost every Sunday found the young student in the desk.

"He will become the most noted preacher in the Disciples' Church," said his friends and classmates.

One day a certain Mr. Brooks, belonging to the school committee at Troy, called upon him and said—

"Our high school needs a new teacher, Mr. Garfield, and we want you to supply the vacancy. You will not find it a difficult position, and we will pay you a salary of twelve hundred dollars."

It was a tempting offer, and would relieve James at once of the pecuniary difficulties that hung like weights about his feet. After taking some days to consider the matter, he finally said to Mr. Brooks,—

"Much as I need the money, I feel it would not be right for me to accept the position. It would prevent me from finishing my college course, and so cramp me, intellectually, for life. Then, again, I feel under some obligation to Hiram Institute, where the trustees expect me to return. My roots seem to be fixed in Ohio, and the transplanting might not succeed; it is best for me to complete my studies here, and then return to my homework, even for smaller pay."

Abiding by this decision, James applied himself to his books with renewed energy. President Hopkins had established the metaphysical oration as the highest honor of the class, and James' essay upon "The Seen and the Unseen" bore off the palm.

He graduated in August, 1856, and among the forty-two members that composed his class, are a number of names that have since won an enviable distinction.