James Garfield stepped quietly outside of the door, and saw two of his oldest and largest pupils engaged in a wrestling match.  For convenience we will call them Brown and Jones.

“What are you about, boys?” asked the teacher The two were so earnestly engaged in their conflict that neither returned an answer.

“This must be stopped immediately,” said James, decisively.  “It is disrespectful to me, and disturbs the recitations.”

He might as well have spoken to the wind.  They heard, but they continued their fight.

“This must stop, or I will stop it myself,” said the teacher.

The boys were not afraid.  Each was about as large as the teacher, and they felt that if he interfered he was likely to get hurt.

James thought he had given sufficient warning.  The time had come to act.  He stepped quickly forward, seized one of the combatants, and with a sudden exertion of strength, threw him over the fence.  Before he had time to recover from his surprise his companion was lifted over in the same manner.

“Now, go on with your fighting if you wish,” said the young teacher; “though I advise you to shake hands and make up.  When you get through come in and report.”

The two young men regarded each other foolishly.  Somehow all desire to fight had been taken away.

“I guess we’ll go in now,” said Brown.

“I’m with you,” said Jones, and Garfield entered the school-room, meekly followed by the two refractory pupils.  There was not much use in resisting the authority of a teacher who could handle them with such ease.

James did not trouble them with any moral lecture.  He was too sensible.  He felt that all had been said and done that was required.

But how did he spend his time at the new seminary, and how was he regarded?  Fortunately we have the testimony of a lady, now residing in Illinois, who was one of the first students at Hiram.

“When he first entered the school,” she writes, “he paid for his schooling by doing janitor’s work, sweeping the floor and ringing the bell.  I can see him even now standing in the morning with his hand on the bell-rope, ready to give the signal, calling teachers and scholars to engage in the duties of the day.  As we passed by, entering the school-room, he had a cheerful word for every one.  He was probably the most popular person in the institution.  He was always good-natured, fond of conversation, and very entertaining.  He was witty and quick at repartee, but his jokes, though brilliant and sparkling, were always harmless, and he never would willingly hurt another’s feelings.