“I understand that he has had a hard struggle with poverty.  All the money he has he earned by hard labor.  Dr. Hopkins seems to have taken a liking to him.  I saw him walking with the doctor the other day.”

This conversation describes pretty accurately the impression made by Garfield upon his classmates, and by those in other classes who became acquainted with him.  At first they were disposed to laugh at the tall, awkward young man and his manners, but soon his real ability, and his cordial, social ways won upon all, and he was installed as a favorite.  The boys began to call him Old Gar, and regarded him with friendship and increasing respect, as he grew and developed intellectually, and they began to see what manner of man he was.

Perhaps the readiest way for a collegian to make an impression upon his associates is to show a decided talent for oratory.  They soon discovered at Williams that Garfield had peculiar gifts in this way.  His speaking at clubs, and before the church of his communion in Hiram, had been for him a valuable training.  He joined a society, and soon had an opportunity of showing that he was a ready and forcible speaker.

One day there came startling news to the college.  Charles Sumner had been struck down in the Senate chamber by Preston S. Brooks, of South Carolina, for words spoken in debate.  The hearts of the students throbbed with indignation—­none more fiercely than young Garfield’s.  At an indignation meeting convened by the students he rose and delivered, so says one who heard him, “one of the most impassioned and eloquent speeches ever delivered in old Williams.”

It made a sensation.

“Did you hear Old Gar’s speech at the meeting?” asked one of another.

“No, I did not get in in time.”

“It was great.  I never heard him speak better.  Do you know what I think?”

“Well?”

“Gar will be in Congress some day himself.  He has rare powers of debate, and is a born orator.”

“I shouldn’t wonder myself if you were right.  If he ever reaches Congress he will do credit to old Williams.”

James had given up his trade as a carpenter.  He was no longer obliged to resort to it, or, at any rate, he preferred to earn money in a different way.  So one winter he taught penmanship at North Pownal, in Vermont, a post for which he was qualified, for he had a strong, bold, handsome hand.

“Did you know Mr. Arthur, who taught school here last winter?” asked one of his writing pupils of young Garfield.

“No; he was not a student of Williams.”

“He graduated at Union College, I believe.”

“Was he a good teacher?”

“Yes, he was very successful, keeping order without any trouble, though the school is considered a hard one.”