I also find among my papers of that time, which I thought worthy of preservation, a multitude of essays on as many different subjects, and some efforts at poetry, all of which I consign to flames. Most boys have had the same experience. The only benefit I derived was the habit I formed of writing upon such subjects as attracted my attention by reading, a habit I continued when studying law, in preparing a case for trial, and in preparation for a debate in Congress.
I returned at once to Lancaster. The great financial depression, commencing in 1837, was now at its height. It was said that Ohio State six per cent. bonds had been sold at fifty cents on the dollar. Many banks were embarrassed and refused to discount notes, while several failed, and their circulating notes became worthless. I found that Lancaster had especially suffered, that many of its leading business firms had suspended or were on the brink of failure. I was then in excellent health, tall and slender and willing to work. I received temporary employment from Dr. Kreider, who was either Clerk of the Court or Recorder of Deeds, I do not remember which. He gave me a dollar and a half a day, which I regarded as a great favor, but the records were soon made up and I had nothing to do.
It was at this period of my life that I fell into very bad habits. Many of the boys about my age who were with me in Howe's school were still about Lancaster, and were out of employment like myself. We would meet on the street, or at the post office, or some place of resort, to talk over old times, and got into the habit of drinking poor wine, mostly made of diluted whiskey and drugs. The general habit of drinking spirits was more common than now, but I had not been subject to this temptation, as Col. Curtis was very strict in prohibiting all such drinking. With the jolly good fellows I met at Lancaster who had nothing to do, I could not refuse to join in drinking the health of each other, and thus I was conscious frequently of being more or less intoxicated. On one occasion, in the fall of 1839, I went home very sick from drinking. My mother received me with much surprise and sorrow, but neither complained nor scolded, and, with the utmost kindness, put me to bed and watched over and cared for me. I was not stupid enough to be unconscious of my degradation and her affection, and then and there resolved never to be in such a condition again, and from that time to this I am not conscious of having been under the influence of liquor. I have partaken of wine and spirits at weddings, feasts and dinners, I have used it as a medicine, and in response to toasts and compliments, but never to an extent to addle my brain or disturb my walk.
At that time intemperance was a common vice. Of the young men who were my contemporaries a very large proportion became habitual drunkards and died prematurely. No reform in my time has been so general and beneficial as that of the disuse of drinking intoxicating liquors, commencing in 1841. Formerly liquors were put on the sideboard or table, and the invitation "take a drink" was as common then as "take a seat" is now. This method of treating was shared in by preachers of the Gospel, and by all who observed the courtesies of social life. Now these conditions have greatly changed. Whisky is banished to the drug store, the grocery and the saloon, and even there it is under surveillance and so highly taxed as to furnish a large proportion of the national revenue.
Some time in the autumn of 1839 I visited Mansfield for the first time, on some business for General Reese, and it was then arranged that early in the next spring I should return to study law with my brother Charles. Mansfield was then a very unattractive village, badly located on parallel ridges and valleys, but precisely in the center of the very large county of Richland, then containing 900 square miles. The county covered a part of the high table-land that separated the waters of Lake Erie and the Ohio River. It was an almost unbroken forest during the War of 1812, with a few families living in log houses, protected by block houses of logs from the incursions of Indians, many of whom lived in the county. After the war it was rapidly settled, chiefly from Pennsylvania, and divided into farms of 160 acres or less, according to the new congressional plan of townships six miles square, sections one mile square, and subdivisions of forty, eight, and one hundred and sixty acres. The topography of the country was high and rolling, from 900 to 1,350 feet above the sea, with innumerable springs of the purest water, and small streams and creeks, all rising in the county and flowing north or south into the Muskingum or Sandusky rivers. The timber was oak, sugar, elm, hickory and other deciduous trees. This valuable timber was the chief obstruction to the farmers. It had to be deadened or cut away to open up a clearing for the cabin and the field. The labor of two or three generations was required to convert it into the picturesque, beautiful and healthy region it now is.
The village of Mansfield has been converted into a flourishing city of more than 15,000 inhabitants, with extensive manufacturing establishments and a network of railroads reaching out to Cleveland, Chicago, Pittsburg, Columbus, Cincinnati and Indianapolis. There was no sign of this development when I first visited the place.
On my return to Lancaster I applied myself closely to study and reading, mainly of history. I read Hume, Smollett and Miller's histories of England, Gibbon's "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," and such histories of the United States as I could procure. It was at this time that the memorable "Log Cabin and Hard Cider Campaign" of 1840 commenced. General Harrison had been nominated in December, 1839, at Harrisburg, by the Whig party. He was a distinguished general in the War of 1812, but had lived mainly a quiet, modest life on his farm at South Bend, near Cincinnati. The Democratic papers ridiculed him as a feeble old man, living in a cabin and drinking hard cider. The Whigs turned these sarcasms with great effect upon their adversaries. They compared the old soldier and his excellent war record, living in a cabin with the latch string out and eating corn bread, with "Matty Van, the used up man," living in a palace, with roast beef every day, eating from silver plate, with gold spoons, and drawing a salary of $25,000 a year. This was no doubt demagoguism, but there was back of it the great questions of protection to American industries, sound and stable currency, and the necessity of economy in public expenditures. A great meeting was held in Columbus in February, 1840. In the procession were log cabins, filled with farmers and hauled by a number of horses and oxen, and hard cider was on tap for all who chose to drink. Songs were improvised, especially by Greiner, the poet of the canvass. One of these songs, with the refrain, "The Log Cabin Candidate will March to Washington," became famous and prophetic.
Some time in March, 1840, taking the stage for Mansfield, I saw signs of political excitement all along the way, even at that early period of the canvass. My sister Susan, two years younger than I, was with me. We met with no adventure worthy of notice until we arrived at our destination, when, in ascending the hill to the public square, the coach slipped and fell over on its side. This we considered a bad omen. It was not, however, an unusual accident, as the roads were always bad in March, and the coaches of the day not worthy of the name. We were heartily welcomed into the family of Robert McComb, who had married my sister, Amelia.
I was to study law, but under the laws of Ohio I could not be admitted to practice until I arrived at the age of twenty-one years. Our liberal laws presumed that a man of ordinary capacity could master this profession in two years. What was I to do during the two spare years? This question was left to the decision of my uncle, Judge Parker, husband of my father's only sister. He was a peculiar character, and, as I will have occasion to refer to him again, I will give of him a brief biography. He was born in Nova Scotia. His father was a merchant of some wealth who early decided that his son should be educated in Ohio, and chose for him the college at Athens. There young Parker not only received his collegiate diploma, but became thoroughly attached to western habits and opinions. He studied law with my father at Lancaster, and, when admitted to the bar, went to Mansfield, where he practiced law. He was genial, social, and especially fond of the society of young people. I have often seen him stop on the streets of Mansfield to watch boys playing marbles. He was conceded to be an able lawyer, perhaps the best land lawyer and special pleader in that part of Ohio. But he was not an advocate, partly owing to occasional stuttering, but in jury cases employed my father until the latter became a judge of the Supreme Court.
Mr. Parker had for some years before 1840 retired from active practice, and was engaged with Robert McComb as a general merchant. During, or about 1842, he was elected by the legislature of Ohio presiding judge of the Court of Common Pleas, and became eminently popular, and deservedly so. He was to be my guide and counselor.