“Since 1856 my relations with him have been as close and confidential as they could be with any man, and much closer and more confidential than they have been with any other man.  I do not say that it would be possible for me to know anybody better than I know him, and I know that he possesses all the great elements of character in an extraordinary degree.  His interest in humanity has always been as broad as humanity itself, while his lively interest in young men and women, especially if they were struggling in narrow circumstances to obtain an education, is a characteristic known as widely over the world as the footsteps of Hiram boys and girls have wandered.

“The help that he furnished hundreds in the way of suggestions, teaching, encouragement, inspiration, and stimulus was most valuable.  His power over students was not so much that of a drill-master, or disciplinarian, as that of one who was able to inspire and energize young people by his own intellectual and moral force.”

An illustration of the interest he felt in his pupils may be given.

A student came to the president’s study at the close of a college term to bid him good-bye.  After the good-bye was said, he lingered, and Garfield said:  “I suppose you will be back again in the fall, Henry?”

“No,” he stammered, “I am not coming back to Hiram any more.  Father says I have got education enough, and that he needs me to work on the farm; that education doesn’t help a farmer along any.”

He was a bright boy—­not a prodigy, by any means, but one of those strong, awkward, large-headed fellows, such as James Garfield had himself been.

“Is your father here?” asked the young president, affected by the boy’s evident sorrow.

“Yes, father is here, and is taking my things home for good.”

“Well, don’t feel badly.  Please tell him Mr. Garfield would like to see him at his study before he leaves the college.”

“Yes, sir, I will.”

In half an hour the father, a sturdy farmer, entered the study and awkwardly sat down.

“So you have come to take Henry home, have you?” asked the president.

“Yes,” answered the farmer.

“I sent for you because I wanted to have a little talk with you about Henry’s future.  He is coming back again in the fall, I hope?”

“Wal, I think not.  I don’t reckon I can afford to send him any more.  He’s got eddication enough for a farmer already, and I notice that when they git too much, they sorter git lazy.  Yer eddicated farmers are humbugs.  Henry’s got so far ’long now that he’d rather have his head in a book than be workin’.  He don’t take no interest in the stock, nor in the farm improvements.  Everybody else is dependent in this world on the farmer, and I think that we’ve got too many eddicated fellows settin’ ’round now for the farmers to support.”

To this Garfield answered that he was sorry for the father’s decision, since his son, if permitted to come the next term, would be far enough advanced to teach school, and so begin to help himself along.  Teaching would pay better than working on the farm in the winter.