James had fairly established himself in the respect and confidence, not only of the sober and intelligent captain, but of the drunken, ignorant crew, as well. On the whole, they were proud of him. Said she steersman to the bowman of another boat, “We’ve got feller in our crew just the biggest trump yer ever see. Nary drinks whisky, smokes, chews, swears, or fights—d’ye believe it, old feller?” and he slapped the bowman on the back as he said it.

“Where’d he cum from?” the bowman inquired.

“That’s what we’d like ter know, yer see; where he cum from, and how he happen’d to cum,” responded the steersman. “But he’s a jolly good fellow, strong as a lion, could lick any on us if he’s a mind to; and he’s a pealer for work, too; ain’t afraid to dirty hisself; and buckles right down to bisness, he does, jist like any on us. I never seed just such a boy.”

That the captain was won by the amount and quality of James’s work, as well as by the reliability of his character, is evident from the fact that he promoted him to bowman at the end of his first trip. We mistrust that, in addition to the captain’s confidence in his ability for the position, he exercised military tactics in the appointment, and concluded that it would put an end to brutal fights for the possession of locks.

By the confession of captain and crew, most of whom are still alive, James was a successful peace- maker on the canal boat, and his influence elevated the rough boatmen to some extent. He did it, too, without making an enemy, but real friends of all. His forte lay in that direction.

The testimony of the captain is, that James did everything thoroughly as well as promptly; that he was as conscientious as he was resolute, declining to participate in any project that he considered wrong; that he possessed remarkable tact in his business as well as in dealing with men; and that he was a model boy in every respect—“not talkative, but very intelligent; and when drawn into conversation, he surprised us by the depth of his knowledge on the topics of the day.”

On the canal boat James had no books to read; and this was a serious privation. Occasionally, the captain had an opportunity to purchase newspapers, and these James read through and through. The captain thinks, however, that the absence of reading matter was fully made up to him by the opportunity and demand for the exercise of his observation. He studied men and business, and asked a multitude of questions. Patrick Henry once said that he owed his success to “studying men more than books.” Garfield studied men more than books, and the captain aided him materially by answering his questions. Perhaps it was an advantage for him, in the circumstances, to be where no books could be had for love or money.

James appeared to possess a singular affinity for the water. He fell into the water fourteen times during the two or three months he served on the canal boat. It was not because he was so clumsy that he could not keep right side up, nor because he did not understand the business; rather, we think, it arose from his thorough devotion to his work. He gave more attention to the labour in hand than he did to his own safety. He was one who never thought of himself when he was serving another. He thought only of what he had in hand to do. His application was intense, and his perseverance royal.

The last time he fell into the water he came near losing his life. It was on one very rainy night, when he was called up to take his turn at the bow. The boat was just leaving one of those long reaches of slack-water which abound in the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal. James was awaked out of a very sound sleep, and he responded with his eyes half open, scarcely comprehending as yet the situation, and took his stand upon the platform below the bow-deck. He began to uncoil a rope to steady the boat through a lock it was approaching. The rope caught somehow on the edge of the deck, and resisted several pulls that he made to extricate it. At last it yielded, but in the rebound, sent him headlong over the bow into the water. It was a very dark night, and he went down into the water, which was blacker than the night. In the meanwhile the boat was sweeping on, and no mortal knew of his mishap, and not a helping hand was near. Death seemed inevitable. Fortunately his hand seized the rope in the darkness,—by accident, men will say, but by providential guidance really,—and he drew himself, hand over hand, upon