once. Such books as “Tom Brown’s School Days,” won his admiration. He told his pupils that every one of them ought to read the work carefully. Macaulay’s works, and Mills’, and works of kindred ability and value, he particularly enjoyed and recommended.

In those days Commencement exercises brought together from five to ten thousand people. They came from fifty miles around. A large tent was pitched over a stage, on which the literary exercises were performed. Booths for refreshments were erected here and there, and often showmen would appear upon the ground. Roughs and intoxicated persons sometimes appeared in large numbers, causing disturbance, and sadly marring the harmony of the occasion. But after Garfield became principal, these scenes stopped. The pointing of his finger, or the waving of his hand, when disturbance broke out in any quarter, quelled it at once. Roughs appeared to understand that his authority could not be trifled with on such occasions.

We shall close this chapter by another quotation from Rev. Mr. Darsie:

“No matter how old the pupils were, Garfield always called us by our first names, and kept himself on the most familiar terms with all. He played with us freely, scuffled with us sometimes, walked with us in walking to and fro, and we treated him out of the class just about as we did one another. Yet he was a most strict disciplinarian, and enforced the rules like a martinet. He combined an affectionate and confiding manner with respect for order, in a most successful way. If he wanted to speak to a pupil, either for reproof or approbation, he would generally manage to get one arm around him and draw him close up to him. He had a peculiar way of shaking hands, too; giving a twist to your arm, and drawing you right up to him. This sympathetic manner has helped him to advancement. When I was janitor, he used sometimes to stop me and ask my opinion about this and that, as if seriously advising with me. I can see now that my opinion could not have been of any value, and that he probably asked me, partly to increase my self-respect and partly to show me that he felt an interest in me. I certainly was his friend all the firmer for it.

“I remember once asking him what was the best way to pursue a certain study, and he said: ‘Use several text-books; get the views of different authors as you advance; in that way you can plough a broader furrow. I always study in that way.’ He tried hard to have us observe carefully and accurately. He broke out one day in the midst of a lesson with, ‘Henry, how many posts are there under the building downstairs?’ Henry expressed his opinion, and the question went round the class, hardly one getting it right. Then it was, ‘How many boot-scrapers are there at the door?’ ‘How many windows in the building?’ ‘How many trees in the field?’ ‘What were the colours of particular rooms, and the peculiarities of any familiar objects?’ He was the keenest observer I ever saw. I think he observed, and numbered, every button on our coats. A friend of mine was walking with him through Cleveland one day, when Garfield stopped and darted down a cellar-way, asking his companion to follow, and briefly stopping to explain himself. The sign, ‘Saws and Files’ was over the door, and in the depths was heard a regular clicking sound. ‘I think this fellow is cutting files,’ said he, ‘and I have never seen a file cut.’ Down they went, and, sure enough, there was a man re-cutting an old file, and they stayed there ten minutes and found out all about the process. Garfield would never go by anything without understanding it.”