When James walked up to the residence of President Hayden, and inquired for Dr. Robinson, he was decidedly homespun in appearance.  He probably was dressed in his best, but his best was shabby enough.  His trousers were of coarse satinet, and might have fitted him a season or two before, but now were far outgrown, reaching only half-way down from the tops of his cowhide boots.  His waistcoat also was much too short, and his coat was threadbare, the sleeves being so short as to display a considerable portion of his arms.  Add to these a coarse slouched hat, much the worse for wear, and a heavy mass of yellow hair much too long, and we can easily understand what the good doctor said of him:  “He was wonderfully awkward, but had a sort of independent, go-as-you-please manner that impressed me favorably.”

“Who are you?” asked the doctor.

“My name is James Garfield, from Solon.”

“Oh, I know your mother, and knew you when you were a babe, but you have outgrown my knowledge.  I am glad to see you.”

“I should like to see you alone,” said James.

The doctor led the way to a secluded spot in the neighborhood of the house, and then, sitting down on a log, the youth, after a little hesitation, opened his business.

“You are a physician,” he said, “and know the fiber that is in men.  Examine me and tell me with the utmost frankness whether I had better take a course of liberal study.  I am contemplating doing so, as my desire is in that direction.  But if I am to make a failure of it, or practically so, I do not desire to begin.  If you advise me not to do so I shall be content.”

In speaking of this incident the doctor has remarked recently:  “I felt that I was on my sacred honor, and the young man looked as though he felt himself on trial.  I had had considerable experience as a physician, but here was a case much different from any I had ever had.  I felt that it must be handled with great care.  I examined his head and saw that there was a magnificent brain there.  I sounded his lungs, and found that they were strong, and capable of making good blood.  I felt his pulse, and felt that there was an engine capable of sending the blood up to the head to feed the brain.  I had seen many strong physical systems with warm feet and cold, sluggish brain; and those who possessed such systems would simply sit round and doze.  Therefore I was anxious to know about the kind of an engine to run that delicate machine, the brain.  At the end of a fifteen minutes’ careful examination of this kind, we rose, and I said: 

“Go on, follow the leadings of your ambition, and ever after I am your friend.  You have the brain of a Webster, and you have the physical proportions that will back you in the most herculean efforts.  All you need to do is to work; work hard, do not be afraid of over-working and you will make your mark.”

It will be easily understood that these words from a man whom he held in high respect were enough to fix the resolution of James.  If he were really so well fitted for the work and the career which his mother desired him to follow, it was surely his duty to make use of the talents which he had just discovered were his.