whose name was Foster, arrived. They came together, and one was about as rough as the other. The “master” was a young man of twenty years, uncouth in his appearance, large and unwieldy, but a sensible sort of a Yankee, who had picked up considerable knowledge without going to school or reading much. On the whole, he was full as much of a man as pioneers could expect for the small wages they were able to pay.He was kind-hearted, of good character, and was really influenced by a strong desire to benefit his pupils.

He took up his abode at the beginning of school with Mrs. Garfield, and slept in the loft with Thomas and James. At once his attention was drawn to James as a very precocious child. Good terms were established between them; and when they started off together for the school-house, on the first day of school, the teacher said to him, putting his hand kindly on his head:—

“If you learn well, my boy, you may grow up yet and be a General.”

James did not know exactly what a General was, but then he concluded that a General must be some great affair, or a schoolmaster would not speak so favourably of him. The remark fastened upon the lad’s mind; somehow he felt, all through the day, that he was beginning just then to make a General, whatever that might be. It was not out of his mind for a minute; and he laboured somewhat upon the point, how long a time it would take to make him into a General. However, he knew that there was one being who stood between him, and all learning, and all the future—and that being was his mother. What he did not know, she would know. As soon as he reached home, after school, he inquired:—

“Ma, what’s a gen’ral?”

“What’s what?” his mother answered, not comprehending his question.

“What’s a gen’ral?” James repeated, somewhat more distinctly.

“Oh, I see now—a General!” she answered; “that is what you want to know.”

“Yes; the master said I might make a gen’ral if I learn.”

“That is what put it into your head, then,” continued his mother, laughing. “You don’t know whether you would like to be one or not, I suppose; is that it?”

“I want to know what it is,” James replied.

“Well, I will tell you, my son, for your great-grandfather fought in the Revolutionary War under a General. You ought to know something about that, and something about your ancestors, too, as well as about a General.”

She proceeded to tell him about his paternal ancestors: “How Edward Garfield came to this country from England, with John Winthrop, John Endicott, Francis Higginson, and many other Puritans, to escape oppresion at home, settled at Watertown, Mass., which was as much of a wilderness then as Ohio was when your father removed here. The Indians were his neighbours, and he bought land of them, and lived in peace with them. There he and his descendants lived, some of them removing into other towns, and many of them among the most influential citizens of that time. By-and-by, England, the mother- country, made war upon the people there, and the fight of Concord Bridge occurred, on the 19th of April, 1775. The soldiers of England wore red coats, glistening with brass buttons, and they carried guns with which to shoot down the farmers and people of Massachusetts Colony, unless they would surrender and obey the king of England. But the men would do neither. They seized their guns, determined to defend themselves, and shoot the redcoats rather than continue to be subject to the king. Your great- uncle, Abraham Garfield, was among the soldiers at Concord Bridge. This was the beginning of the Revolutionary War, in which our soldiers fought bravely for their rights, and your great-grandfather, Solomon Garfield, was one of them. Then our soldiers wore blue coats, trimmed with brass buttons, and they