The story of Garfield's attempts to gain an education forms one of the most romantic portions of his history. At first the height of his ambition was to attend a little Western college called Geauga Seminary, a school where about a hundred youths and maidens were gathered, under the auspices of the Free-will Baptist denomination, at the town of Chester in the State of Ohio.

Garfield, accompanied by two cousins, arrived at Geauga Seminary on March 5, 1849. It was perhaps the most important moment of his life, when the big, awkward, ill-dressed boy crossed the threshold of that humble college, and began to tread the path that was to lead straight on to one of the highest places of dignity on earth.

He and his companions hired a room, and with but a little in money, a sack or two of provisions, some pots and pans, and an old school-book, began their simple college course.

Garfield's plans to make his money last as long as possible were amazing. He began with about two pounds, his dear mother's savings, but text-books and school fees had already reduced his tiny fortune.

At first the lads did their own cooking, with indifferent success. Next they tried to live on bread and milk, but found it insufficient. Then Garfield discovered a local carpenter who had planks to plane, and in his spare time he found employment with him. Thus, working at his books in the daytime, and toiling at the bench at night, he plodded along. And yet, though his struggles were long and trying, there was no need for pity in the condition of the young student.

Probably no conceivable circumstances would have better developed the character of this backwoods scholar. His hardy limbs found real pleasure in work, which kept his body braced and healthy, while the active mind was exerting its great faculties in the keen pursuit of knowledge.

Some of the most interesting and instructive periods in the lives of the greatest men, both in this country and in America, have been found in just such conditions as these. Thoughtful English lads will never tire of hearing about those men, who, starting at the lowest point of mental knowledge and social opportunities, have yet contrived to fill in their day a large space in the world of letters. Take for example the stories of the three cobbler lads—Drew the historian, Cooper the reformer, and Carey the missionary, who, each in his own way, proved superior to poverty and all its attendant disadvantages, and rose, the one from his bench to a professorship in the London University, the other from a position equally lowly to a high place among the thinkers and writers of his day; and the third, leaving his lapstone to take up the pen of a translator, from cobbling boots in a back kitchen, went out to be the great master missionary of his age.

And just as in olden times God called His chief servants from the farmstead and the sheep-run, so even still the men of might have been those whose natures were made strong by youthful hardship and boyish battles.

The slave lad who became the Old World's greatest statesman, the shepherd boy who became its noblest King, and the young farmer who stood among its mightiest prophets, are but the types and forerunners of the Luthers and Lincolns and Garfields of more modern days.

Garfield, when once his eyes were opened, was quick enough to see that no boy could possibly succeed in life while he remained in ignorance. He said over and over again, "Mother, I must have an education"; and, having made up his mind to this, he set himself to secure it in the only possible way.