THE BEREAVED FAMILY.

4I

fairly. The little country town grew rapidly; neighbors gathered on adjacent farms; and a larger, more vigorous life settled upon the little place. Everything went well until the outbreak of the fire mentioned at the opening of this chapter. The death of Abram Garfield was the first cloud upon a life of successful happiness.

The children, who gathered around their father's death-bed on that mid-summer morning, numbered four, the eldest, Mehetabel, bearing her grandmother's Puritan name; the second, Thomas, called after his uncle; the third, Mary; and the last, the blue-eyed baby James Abram, born November 19th, 1831, and christened for his greatuncle soon after.

It is the life of this boy, James Abram Garfield, that is portrayed in the following pages.

CHAPTER II.

THE HOME IN EARLY DAYS.

E

LIZA GARFIELD had but a sunless

prospect before her the morning after her husband was buried. A small farm incumbered with debt, a dense forest only partially broken by clearings, a scattered population almost as poor as herself, made up her immediate environment. Putting aside the mistaken but kindly meant advice of friends, she said that the house should not be broken up, the children should not be scattered. Advisers yielded to her will, and she had her way. She took up the mantle of her husband, and with that brevet rank, which widowhood never fails to confer upon deserving women, she made herself thoroughly respected by her sterling force of character and high resolve to dare and do for the weal of her children. Though small of stature, and but thirty years of age, she had the ability and energy of a larger and older woman. The farm was to be kept up, the home continued as it had been since 1830, and the "four saplings" cared for, until they were ready to be transplanted. Then, and not till then, would she give up the farm.

This was a resolve, that presaged a harvest in

EARLY STRUGGLES.

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its fruition, For there was nothing strikingly beautiful in the country where she dwelt; there was nothing remarkably attractive. The soil was not noticeably excellent. There were a thousand

farms that surpassed hers, and she had nothing to work with but energy and willingness. She rose early and retired late. Her work never sought her; she sought it. The homestead assumed a more homelike appearance each year, as new comforts were added by the thrifty woman who managed it. The young orchard, which Abram Garfield had planted, grew amazingly; and the trees fulfilled the promise of their planting. Cherries, apples, plums, and, later, currants, proved quite an addition to the frugal fare of the family; and the gathering of these was always a delight to the children. Often could young James be seen perched on the top of a tree, with a pail, picking cherries for his mother to preserve, or gathering apples for her to dry. Out-door life to the boy, who had already toddled through infancy and was now a rousing youngster of eight, presented many an attraction, that some children never seem to perceive.

Indian stories, then the liveliest and most vivid of all border-reminiscences, were often told in the twilight to the boy, who was eager for any news of that world, to which his yet unformed fancies had carried him, but which he was yet unable to people properly or quite understand. He carried his