The boy’s speedy reconciliation to the man who had made so unprovoked an assault upon him was characteristic of his nature.  He never could cherish malice, and it was very hard work for him to remain angry with any one, however great the provocation.

Both as a boy and as a man he possessed great physical strength, as may be inferred from an incident told by the Boston Journal of his life when he was no longer the humble canal-boy, but a brigadier-general in the army: 

“At Pittsburg Landing one night in 1862 there was a rush for rations by some newly-arrived troops.  One strong, fine-looking soldier presented a requisition for a barrel of flour, and, shouldering it, walked off with ease.  When the wagon was loaded, this same man stepped up to Colonel Morton, commanding the commissary steamers there, and remarked, ’I suppose you require a receipt for these supplies?’ ‘Yes,’ said the Colonel, as he handed over the usual blank; ’just take this provision return, and have it signed by your commanding officer.’  ’Can’t I sign it?’ was the reply.  ‘Oh, no,’ said the affable Colonel Morton; ’it requires the signature of a commissioned officer.’  Then came the remark, that still remains fresh in the Colonel’s memory:  ’I am a commissioned officer—­I’m a brigadier-general, and my name is Garfield, of Ohio.’”

For four months James remained connected with the canal-boat.  To show that traveling by canal is not so free from danger as it is supposed to be, it may be stated that in this short time he fell into the water fourteen times.  Usually he scrambled out without further harm than a good wetting.  One night, however, he was in serious pain.

It was midnight, and rainy, when he was called up to take his turn at the bow.  The boat was leaving one of those long reaches of slack-water which abound in the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal.  He tumbled out of bed in a hurry, but half awake, and, taking his stand on the narrow platform below the bow-deck, he began uncoiling a rope to steady the boat through a lock it was approaching.  Finally it knotted, and caught in a narrow cleft on the edge of the deck.  He gave it a strong pull, then another, till it gave way, sending him over the bow into the water.  Down he went in the dark river, and, rising, was bewildered amid the intense darkness.  It seemed as if the boy’s brief career was at its close.  But he was saved as by a miracle.  Reaching out his hand in the darkness, it came in contact with the rope.  Holding firmly to it as it tightened in his grasp, he used his strong arms to draw himself up hand over hand.  His deliverance was due to a knot in the rope catching in a crevice, thus, as it tightened, sustaining him and enabling him to climb on deck.

It was a narrow escape, and he felt it to be so.  He was a thoughtful boy, and it impressed him.  The chances had been strongly against him, yet he had been saved.

“God did it,” thought James reverently, “He has saved my life against large odds, and He must have saved it for some purpose.  He has some work for me to do.”