and he followed that line thereafter. He had no one to help him upward, and he had no desire to have anybody help him. Unlike boys who depend upon some rich father or uncle to give them “a good start,” or upon superior advantages, he settled down upon the stubborn fact, that if anything was ever made out of him he must do it himself. Hard work was before him, and hard fare, and he expected nothing less. A statesman who rose from obscurity to eminence once said, “Whatever may be thought of my attainments, it must be conceded that I made as much out of the stuff put into my hands as was possible.” That the germ of such an impulse must have taken root in James’s heart early, is quite evident from some remarks of his to young men after he was forty years old.

“Occasion cannot make spurs, young men. If you expect to wear spurs, you must win them. If you wish to use them, you must buckle them to your own heels before you go into the fight. Any success you may achieve is not worth having unless you fight for it. Whatever you win in life you must conquer by your own efforts, and then it is yours—a part of yourself.

… Let not poverty stand as an obstacle in your way. Poverty is uncomfortable, as I can testify; but nine times out of ten the best thing that can happen to a young man is to be tossed overboard, and compelled to sink or swim for himself. In all my acquaintance I have never known one to be drowned who was worth saving. … To a young man who has in himself the magnificent possibilities of life it is not fitting that he should be permanently commanded; he should be a commander. You must not continue to be employed; you must be an employer. You must be promoted from the ranks to a command. There is something, young man, that you can command; go and find it, and command it. You can at least command a horse and dray, can be generalissimo of them, and may carve out a fortune with them.”

Another incident of James’s early life illustrates the phase of his character in question, and, at the same time, shows his aptitude in unexpected emergencies. He was eight or ten years of age when it occurred, a pupil in school with his cousin, Henry Boynton. Sitting side by side, one day they became more roguish than usual, without intending to violate the rules of school. Sly looks and an occasional laugh satisfied the teacher, who was a sharp disciplinarian, that something unusual was going on, and he concluded that the wisest treatment would be to stop it at once.

“James and Henry!” he called out, loudly, “lay aside your books and go home, both of you.”

A clap of thunder would not have startled them more. They looked at each other seriously, as if the result was entirely unexpected, and delayed for a moment.

“Don’t dilly-dally,” exclaimed the teacher; “both of you go home immediately.”

“I will go,” answered James. Henry said nothing; and both passed out. James made an express of his dexterous legs, shortening the distance from the school-house to home to about three or four minutes, and an equal time to return. Returning to school, he entered the room, puffing like an engine, and resumed his seat.

“James! did I not tell you to go home?” shouted the teacher, never dreaming that the boy had had time to obey the mandate.

“I have been home,” answered James, not in the least disconcerted. He had obeyed his teacher promptly, though he took very good care that his mother did not see him when he reached the cabin.

“Been home?” responded the teacher, inquiringly, surprised that the boy had been home in so short a time.

“Yes, sir, I have been home,” replied James; “you didn’t tell me to stay.”

“Well, you can stay here, now,” answered the teacher, with a smile, thinking that was the best way to dispose of so good a joke. James remained, and was very careful not to be sent home again, lest the