can pay me but little."

"I think you are making a mistake."

"Why so?"

"You are our best scholar, and no one can rival you in speaking in the
societies. You should study law, and then go to one of our large cities
and build up a reputation, instead of burying yourself in an
out-of-the-way Ohio town, where you may live and die without the world
hearing of you."

"Thank you for your good opinion of me. I am not sure whether I deserve
it, but if I do, I shall come to the surface some day. Meanwhile, to
this humble school (it was not yet a college) I owe a large debt of
gratitude. I am under a promise to go back and do what I can to pay that
debt."

"In doing so you may sacrifice your own prospects."

"I hope not. At any rate, my mind is made up."

"Oh, well, in that case I will say no more. I know that if your mind is
made up, you are bound to go. Only, years hence you will think of my
warning."

"At any rate," said Garfield, cordially, "I shall bear in mind the
interest you have shown in me. You may be right--I admit that--but I
feel that it is my duty to go."

I doubt whether any man of great powers can permanently bury himself, no
matter how obscure the position which he chooses. Sooner or later the
world will find him out, and he will be lifted to his rightful place.
When General Grant occupied a desk in the office of a lawyer in St.
Louis, and made a precarious living by collecting bills, it didn't look
as if Fame had a niche for him; but occasion came, and lifted him to
distinction. So I must confess that the young graduate seemed to be
making a mistake when, turning his back upon Williams College, he sought
the humble institution where he had taught, as a pupil-teacher, two
years before, and occupied a place as instructor, with an humble salary.
But even here there was promotion for him. A year later, at the age of
twenty-six, he was made president of the institution. It was not,
perhaps, a lofty position, for though Hiram Institute now became Hiram
College, it was not a college in the New England sense, but rather a
superior academy.

Let us pause a minute and see what changes have taken place in ten
years.

At the age of sixteen Jimmy Garfield was glad to get a chance to drive a
couple of mules on the tow-path of the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal. The
ragged, homespun boy had disappeared. In his place we find James A.
Garfield, A.B., president of a Western college--a man of education and
culture.