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May 28, 2006
Nevada's Online State News Journal
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Nevada History:
REMINISCENCES OF
Senator William M. Stewart
OF NEVADA
Edited by
GEORGE ROTHWELL BROWN
NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY
1908
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY
WILLIAM M. STEWART
[Part 1 -- Chapters I-VII]
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my mother, Mrs. Miranda Stewart, whose early training was the only preparation I had for the battle of life. Her discipline was strict, but not unkind. She was patient and gave good reasons for what she required of her children; was firm and commanded their respect and obedience. Her conduct through life was guided by her best judgment. If I had always kept in view the rules of conduct which she prescribed I would have made few mistakes. Her teachings, so far as I have been guided by them, have been of great service to me during the whole course of my life.
Whatever of good I may have accomplished was inspired by my dear mother at an early period of my existence.
WILLIAM M. STEWART.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Birth—My mother—Early memories—Hunting with Rover—A fortune in coon-skins 21
CHAPTER II.
I am cheated by a sanctimonious deacon—Joshua Giddings inspires me with the ambition to be an orator—I leave home and begin the battle of life—School— I do a man's work, and save money. 26
CHAPTER III.
Herding cattle—First visit to a great city—I win fame as a harvester and lay my rivals out—Student and school teacher—An unruly pupil floored—I enter Yale—College pranks 33
CHAPTER IV.
Gold fever—I determine to go to California—Storm off Hatteras —Arrival in Panama—A priest and a cock fight—Gambling in San Francisco—In desperate straits—Ill with fever, I struggle to the gold diggings—Money in sick miners—My first claim 48
CHAPTER V.
The lead struck—I defend my rights—The first woman in camp —"Oh, Joel"—Three thousand dollars for the timid female-- Brisk matrimonial market—Ten divorces in one afternoon—Starting a frontier aristocracy 60
CHAPTER VI.
Scourge in the Diggings—Prospecting in the Sierra Nevadas--Grizzly Ditch—Lost in a blizzard—Ham-bone soup for starving men—An arrow through my hat—Indians—We wipe out Chief "Big Jim's" band—A ghastly discovery—Surveying without instruments 68
CHAPTER VII.
I begin the practice of law—Appointed District Attorney—A fight in the court-room—I polish my legal knowledge in jail--The heathen Chinee—I meet an obstacle in a murder case. 76
CHAPTER VIII.
Fight over a mining claim—An outcast from camp—I prevent a mob from lynching an innocent man—Nominated for District Attorney—Elected—Hot politics and a bloody battle —Heroes with the girls 82
10 Contents
CHAPTER IX.
Dueling in 1852—Southerners and "mackerel catchers"—The sleepy miner and the tire-eater who would not fight—I start a newspaper in opposition to Aaron A. Sargent 89
CHAPTER X.
Zeke Dougherty's court—Profanity from the bench and frontier justice—I get the drop on a desperado witness—Johnny Little's court in Cy Brown's saloon, where I win a lawsuit with a demijohn of whiskey 95
CHAPTER XI.
Reign of terror in San Francisco—Judge Botts changes his politics—The most eloquent man in America, and how a citizen of California was elected to the United States Senate from Oregon—My marriage—I clear a murderer and get the jury in trouble 103
CHAPTER XII.
I become interested in politics—Governor Bigler insulted—Appointed Attorney-General—Terry and Broderick duel—A tragedy in a hair-trigger—Crabb's expedition to Mexico 116
CHAPTER XIII.
Discovery of the Comstock—Rush to the new diggings—Outrages by the Indians—Piute war—An ambush in a canyon—A volunteer army and a treaty of peace—California admitted to the Union—Origin of mining laws 123
CHAPTER XIV.
Comstock lode fortified—Trouble brewing—I get the drop on a "bad man"—A desperado who killed sixteen men in one winter—A brave Dutchman—The terror of the camp—Rival judges and mixed justice 129
CHAPTER XV.
Making Nevada a territory—I help to locate the Capital—The great flood of 1861—I lose my fortune in a night—Frightful journey on foot to San Francisco in blizzard—Borrow $30,000 and get a new start—Half a million in fees in one case 140
CHAPTER XVI.
Chollar and Potosi controversy—Exposure of bribed jurors—I turn the tables on my enemies—Three judges resign in one day—$14,000 in greenbacks for information—The jockey skips 152
CHAPTER XVII.
Condemned to death by a mob of miners at Virginia City—I master the situation and prove the strength of my friends—Nevada becomes a State—Elected to the United States Senate December 15, 1864—I draw the long term 164
Contents 11
CHAPTER XVIII.
Lincoln as I knew him—Stanton and the rich Israelite—A White House joke on a couple of Senatorial wits—Lincoln's method of transacting business—No cabinet officers, only messenger boys—The President's joke on Alexander H. Stephens—Peace Conference at Fortress Monroe—The new Cabinet—Horace Greeley grows wise 168
CHAPTER XIX.
Zach Chandler's conspiracy to invade Canada—An army of Grant's and Lee's veterans to whip the British—Farragut and the Charleston mines—Sheridan characterizes the French army as a mob—With Lincoln at City Point—A dash on the Rebel lines 177
CHAPTER XX.
Assassination of Lincoln—His last written words a message to me—Reign of terror—Washington on the verge of a bloody battle between Federal and Confederate soldiers—How a drunken man was sworn in as President—Johnson's quarrel with Congress 186
CHAPTER XXI.
The War Senate—Pen pictures of the great leaders of the nation—Thad. Stevens and his domestic scandal—Conkling and Blaine, and Congressional jealousies—The corpse was dry—Senator McDougall's tribute to whiskey 201
CHAPTER XXII.
Slavery—Plans of reconstruction—Congress in confusion—The breach with Johnson widens—A consultation with Alexander II. Stephens—Senate debates—Dark days after the war—Governor Andrew of Massachusetts endorses my amendment 213
CHAPTER XXIII.
Mark Twain becomes my secretary—Back from the Holy Land, and he looks it—The landlady terrorized—I interfere with a humorist's pleasures, and get a black patch—Revenge ! Clemens the hero of a Nevada hold-up 219
CHAPTER XXIV.
Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution—Explanatibn of my vote—Military bill passed the House—Opposition to martial law—President Johnson vetoed 225
CHAPTER XXV.
General Grant elected President—Re-elected to the Senate in 1869—Conference with Grant—I write the Fifteenth amendment—Its passage by Congress—Grant's Inaugural recommendation on negro suffrage 231
12 Contents
CHAPTER XXVI.
I am denounced by Charles Sumner—An overestimated statesman—My reply to him in the Senate—How Lincoln played on Stunner's vanity—Sumner's denunciation of Grant at a dinner to the British Commission—He is disposed from important Senate chairmanship—A State secret 237
CHAPTER XXVII.
With Grant on the Pacific Coast—White House Conferences —I decline a Supreme Court appointment—The Apaches on the war-path—Confirmation of Tom Murphy—A dramatic scene in the Senate--Conkling threatens to expose Fenton--A mock fight in the Senate to save a friend 250
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Retire from the Senate and return to Nevada—Mining in the Panamint—I buy a mine from bandits, and secure their friendship—Silver cannon-balls foil the outlaws—Back to the law—The cow-boy reign in Arizona—Cattle thieves and litigation 261
CHAPTER XXIX.
Trip to Sonora, Mexico, in search of mines-4 borrow an "Injun" dog—An old Spaniard's story—Origin of the Apaches and how they got their courage—A brave Chinaman 268
CHAPTER XXX.
A celebrated breach of promise suit—The killing of Judge Terry—Again a candidate for the Senate—Reply to attacks by Senator Fair on my character—Reelected to the Senate in 1887—Career in that body—A total service of twenty-nine years 274
CHAPTER XXXI.
Return to the Senate—The demonetization of silver—Exposure of John Sherman—How he deceived Congress—I offer a bill to restore silver 284
CHAPTER XXXII.
Nomination of Benjamin Harrison—How John Sherman was beaten for the Presidency—Harrison's pledge for free coinage and how he repudiated it—Debate with Reagan—Lodge's "Force" bill 292
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Force bill resumed—Side-tracked for silver with aid of new Senators from Idaho—Trip to New York to pair Senator Stanford against Force bill—I outwit Senator Aldrich—Confirmation of L. Q. C. Lamar 299
Contents 13
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Harrison's infidelity to pledge—His capacity to repel both friends and foes—Cleveland's panic—The fall of Congress into the arms of the, gold trust—My protest against the Gladstone-Cleveland bondholding combination 310
CHAPTER XXXV.
The money question—Adherence to principle regardless of party —Supply of money a necessity, enormous output of gold furnished that supply—Conversion of my critics to the view I advocated in 1900—No more office for me 316
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Cleveland's bond speculations and Venezuela deal—His repudiation by the Democratic Convention of 1896—The nomination of Bryan on a free-coinage platform—His brilliant campaign and defeat by lavish use of money by the gold trust—Bryan's mistake in advocating silver money after the enormous output of gold made money plenty 320
CHAPTER XXXVII.
The Pacific Railroad—Jefferson Davis's survey—Collis I'. Huntington—Crossing the Rockies—Rivalry of the companies—Credit Mobilier scandal—Investigation by Congress—Beginning of railroad discrimination against the people 332
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Conflict between the railroads and the Government—How the trusts rob the people—An argument for government ownership a gloomy view of the economic situation—Praise for Theodore Roosevelt 342
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Irrigation investigations in the arid regions—Marvels of the Mormons—Major Powell grows ambitious and is removed from office—A powerful friend in the White House—What Roosevelt has done for the development of the country 347
CHAPTER XL.
Conclusion—The Pious Fund Case—I argue before the Hague Court of Arbitration—A tribute to the Dutch—I retire from the Senate—Back to the Nevada gold fields 356
[14]
INTRODUCTION
When one has reached the age of eighty-three years. and is rounding out with honor and dignity a career extending over three generations, marked not only by the picturesque adventures of youth, but by the signal services of a statesman to his country in maturity, it becomes at once his privilege and his duty to tell the story of his life. It is a rare combination—a story worth telling and the courage to tell it without prejudice. With the exception of General Grant, I do not believe a man has appeared in public life during the past half century, so well equipped to leave to posterity a record of great value as is William M. Stewart, of whose long span the twenty-nine years spent in the Senate of the United States, while perhaps the most important, were by no means the most interesting.
Here is a man, who, on the score of seniority, has the right to be heard. Were he an unschooled farmer he would have by virtue of his gray hair, a story of pregnant interest, rich with the experience and philosophy of life. But since he is one of the most brilliant and accomplished men of his time, and one whose influence has helped to shape the destinies of the Republic, his prerogative must he unquestioned. (Endowed with a perfect physique, enduring health, and tremendous bodily strength, he has been able to defy the enemy which has overcome, one by one, all the associates of his generation, while preserving in full the power and force of his great intellectuality.
William M. Stewart took his seat in the United States Senate February 1, 1865, when Nevada, the State of his adoption, and which he made his own so completely that for years he held it in the hollow of his
[15]
16 Introduction
hand, was admitted into the Union. He was then about forty years of age. At that time he must have been a Hercules. At eighty-three he is as straight as a juniper, as hard as a blacksmith, as keen of eye as an eagle, and he has not lost one inch in height since that day, forty-three years ago, he stood before Hannibal Hamlin to take the oath of office, a commanding picture of magnificent manhood.
Born in a log cabin in a wilderness, of old Colonial stock, at the age of ten he began the battle of life, and did a man's work, and, inured by privations and hardships, he laid the foundation of that superb animalism which, in later years, when a miner with pick and shovel in the gold diggings of California, was to make him a master of men in an environment in which the weakling went down, the average had no chance, and only the fittest could survive.
Personal bravery played a leading part in his success. The same audacity and courage with which he met the tribulations of the poor farm boy, conquered unruly bullies as a country schoolmaster, plodded his weary way toward education, and, penniless, and broken with fever, began the search for gold in an alien land, stood by him throughout life. On one occasion his entire fortune of half a million dollars was swept away in a flood. There could be nothing more typically American than the fortitude with which he faced this catastrophe. Before the debris of his mining plant had vanished in the boiling river, he had started, on foot, on a journey of three hundred miles across the Sierra Nevada range, while there raged one of the most appalling storms in the history of California. His course was beset by all the dangers of landslides and swollen streams. He reached San Francisco, where, his only security his good name and a flooded mine, he borrowed thee money to start life anew. Then he retraced that perilous trail, returned to his camp, met all his obligations, and paid
Introduction 17
his men, before his enemies, who would have been glad to ruin him, had themselves recovered from the effects of the great disaster.
Senator Stewart has always been a man of restless energy. He inherited a splendid mind, and, even as a boy, he had a thirst for knowledge, a thirst which has never been slaked. At eighty-three he is the same serious student as at thirteen, when he left his father's roof to seek employment as a woodchopper, that he might earn the money to go to school. At twenty-two he was in Yale, and when, for the time being, he abandoned books to go to California in '49, encountering hardships no college boy of to-day would undergo, he took his place as leader among his associates, not only because of the sinew of his mighty right arm, but because of his native shrewdness, intelligence, and education.
In the mad scramble for wealth in the treasure vaults of El Dorado, young Stewart was in the fore, and obtained his share. To-day he might he a money-hoarding, cold-blooded pirate of high finance, for in him the money-making instinct is highly developed. But the man is at heart a romantic adventurer; he plays the game of speculation for the game itself, and not for the spoils; his pleasure is not gold, but the getting of it. Probably no man in the United States has won and lost more fortunes than William M. Stewart. Had he been less of a Robinson Crusoe, to-day he might be a justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, with a longer term of service to his credit than any man has had. In 1871 President Grant tendered him an appointment to that Bench, which he declined. He preferred the greater action and hazard which went with the toga of a Senator and the overalls of a miner. But had he accepted, his reputation as a lawyer could not have been increased, although he would have been an honor to that great tribunal. When he came to Washington he had to his fame not only success in the most notable
18 Introduction
litigations in the West, but the distinction of being the author of the mining laws of the land, laws which he framed so ably that they stand, even now, a monument to legal genius of which any man well might boast.
The years spent in the Golden West were golden years, indeed. Many years after his arrival in the promised land—years during which he carried his life in his hands with reckless abandon; years during which he fought Indians, battled with bandits, organized and enforced rude frontier justice, playing a man's part in a man's life—many years after he had planted his pick in Grizzly Ditch, Mark Twain and Bret Harte, called "pioneers," appeared upon the scene, and wrote the stories this blue-eyed, iron-fisted, fearless giant helped enact.
I seem to see him now, with a derringer in each hand, cowing the bully of the camp, a man who had sixteen notches in the handle of his "gun," and was generally reputed to be a stranger to fear. Many other men, since then, including one who had been a President of the United States, have quailed tinder the lightning flash from Stewart's eye. It is a mild blue eye when he is at peace with the world, an eye that makes children smile, and lift up their arms to him; but when his shaggy brows are in a frown,—well the slayer of those sixteen men laughed away the pistols with a jest, and said: "I like your kind; have a drink !"
Nevada joined the Sisterhood long before her rightful turn because Northern leaders saw that her votes would be required in the adoption of Constitutional amendments to be proposed when the War of Secession was at an end. William M. Stewart, politician as well as statesman, had been in the thick of Territorial disputes, and, when another Star was called to the Blue, he came to Washington, her first Senator, to pin it there.
It is possible that he did not find Washington, in 1865, materially different from California in 1850. As
Introduction 19
the bitter struggle for riches in the golden gullies had smelted out only men of might, and strength, and determination, so had the crisis in the Nation's affairs brought to the surface in the Capital the ablest minds of the time. Young Stewart, having taken his scat, found himself removed from an atmosphere of primitive contention, to a condition akin to it, a condition growing out of the war. In a short time, so well did he conduct himself, and with so fine a skill and comprehension did he enter into the spirit of his surroundings, he found himself in a conspicuous position, similar to that he had always occupied, whether on the farm, in the schoolroom, in the mining camp, or in the court-house.
Some of the greatest men the Republic has produced were his playfellows in the Senate, playfellows in a great game with Destiny, and when he coped with them, he found himself the peer of all, the superior of many. Vice-President Hamlin, Buckalew, Cowan, Foot, Reverdy Johnson, John P. Hale, John Sherman, Thomas A. Hendricks, Benjamin F. Wade, William Pitt Fessenden, these were the men grouped about him in that historic forum—the War Senate.
Throughout the closing days of the War, and during the frightful period of Reconstruction, Senator Stewart was the consistent friend of the South, although himself a strong Union man. Perhaps his most signal contribution in that period was the Fifteenth Amendment to the Constitution, of which he is the author. Hardly less notable, later on, was his defeat of the Force Bill.
Now that he has come to write of his colleagues, all of whom have long since passed away, who will begrudge him consent to paint them as they were, not as new generations have been taught to regard them ? If Andrew Johnson was a drunkard, and broke his pledged word at a critical time, is it not just the world should see him in his moral nakedness? If Charles
20 Introduction
Sumner was a vain, petulant, over-grown boy, an inconsequential busy-body clothed in pompous impotency, disgraced by his fellow Republicans for his discourtesy, even treachery, to the President of the United States, why should not his true character be laid bare, and the truth about him told, in the interest of history?
Senator Stewart has no apologies to make. He has told the truth as he has seen it, and he has told it not for the love of hitting every head in sight, but because it is his privilege to tell the truth, the honored privilege of honored age. A blow with a cudgel, here and there, where a good lick is richly deserved, but for the greater part of the journey—for the greater part of the book, f from cover to cover,—smiles and good nature. Smiles and good nature.—The story of a successful life, a life of wide and enduring influence.
GEORGE ROTHWELL BROWN.
Washington, D. C., March 27, 1908.
CHAPTER I
Birth—My mother—Early memories—Hunting with Rover—A fortune in coon-skins.
I was born August 9, 1825, in a log-house at Galen, Wayne County, New York, about four miles to the east of the town of Lyons.
My father's family were of Scotch origin, and were among the early settlers of Massachusetts. My grandfather was a soldier in the Revolution, and shortly after peace was declared he moved to Vermont and settled upon a tract of land where he with his family resided many years. My father, Frederick Augustus Stewart, served in a Vermont regiment during the war of 1812. Soon after that war my grandfather was killed by a cyclone while attempting to close a barn door. After his death the family made an exchange of their land in Vermont for a tract in the township of Galen, Wayne County, New York, to which they removed.
The land in New York was divided among the family, my father's portion being something over one hundred and fifty acres. Soon after my father settled there he married Miranda Morris. Her father, for whom I was named, was William Morris. His wife, my grandmother, was Miranda Dodd, a Knickerbocker of New York.
My mother had great strength of character, and her life was pure and honest. She loved truth and justice and never told a falsehood. She spoke ill of no one; her neighbors had perfect confidence in her and frequently referred to her as an arbitrator in their family disputes. She reared a family of seven children, four girls and three boys, all of whom are dead except myself. Although in humble circumstances and amid pioneer
92 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
surroundings, she made a home for her family which was always well provided for and comfortable.
I refrained from taking advantage of opportunities that existed to inform myself in regard to my ancestors, on account of the disgust I felt for persons of no consequence who were constantly boasting of their pedigrees.
My parents lived on the Galen farm until I was six years old, when it was ascertained that my grandfather's land in Vermont, which had been exchanged for the New York land, had a fatal defect in the title; and as the title to the land in Galen depended upon the title to the Vermont land, my father lost his farm.
The year previous to this loss my grandfather, William Morris, moved from his home in Wayne County to Mesopotamia Township, Trumbull County, Ohio, where my father followed in August, 1832. Although I was only seven years old at the time I distinctly recollect many things that occurred before we moved to Ohio, one of which was during Jackson's second campaign in 1832.
Political excitement was very intense. We had a neighbor whose name was Pope, a very earnest Jackson man, who used to visit our house and amuse himself with my brother John, then three years old, and myself. He would make John stand upon a table and declare that he was a Jackson man first, last, and all the time. I also remember going to Lyons on the Fourth of July during Jackson's campaign, seeing the procession, and hearing the orators make speeches, although I cannot now remember the names of any of the speakers. I recently visited Lyons, my birthplace, in New York, and also Mesopotamia Township, Ohio. I recognized the familiar landmarks in these places, but was able to find very few of the people who were there during my childhood.
Our family settled on the banks of Grand River, in the "backwoods." The fall after we arrived there, an
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 23
Englishman who moved into the neighborhood gave me a puppy which I named Rover, and which turned out to be a great treasure.
The country around Grand River was remarkably prolific in wild game, particularly coons. When the puppy was a year old—and a good, sturdy, sensible puppy he was—he enjoyed the reputation of being the best coon dog in the neighborhood. In fact, he was the only coon dog which amounted to anything for miles around. I was a youngster, and the larger boys of my acquaintance looked down upon me, and did not seem to desire my company—until Rover evinced great skill in hunting coons. I think that about that time I became the most popular boy in Trumbull County.
Every day the coon hunters, who had formerly scorned me, fairly showered me with attentions. They begged my mother to let me go coon hunting with them, promising that they would take good care of me. She finally consented, and I would go off with the boys, swelling with pride. Of course Rover went along. In fact, he would not leave me to go with anyone else. Pretty soon I began thinking about this. By and by the secret of my popularity dawned upon me. I think it injured my pride at first, but as I was really fond of coon hunting, and did not want to deprive Rover of any pleasure, I thought I would put my pride in my pocket. As balm for my injured feelings I made a contract with the boys that I would have one-third of the coons caught.
It was a mean advantage to take of them, and I have regretted it since. After all, Rover enjoyed the sport for sport's sake, while I reduced the proposition to sordid commercialism.
The first fall we caught six coons, two of that number being my share. The skins were worth fifty cents apiece, and the oil was worth nearly as much more. I realized from my two coons $1.80, which was the first money I
24 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
ever earned, and being only nine years old it made me quite a capitalist in those days.
I expended $1.20 for shoes for myself and eldest sister. The shoes were rough and strong, and were made by a traveling shoemaker. The remaining sixty cents I saved for General Training day, which was a great event at that time. The militia trained at Mesopotamia Center the following spring, where I enjoyed myself almost without limit.
An elderly woman had a stand where she sold gingerbread and root beer. The loaves were immense, being from five to six inches thick, and about a foot across. A big section cost ten cents. I bought a chunk of the gingerbread and a large pitcher of root beer and invited my friends to a sumptuous lunch, which we devoured without much ceremony. This took one-third of my capital and left me only forty cents, which I gave to my mother, telling her I would not need any more money until "cooning time" came again in the fall.
The result of the "cooning" the next fall was very satisfactory. We killed fifteen. Although we slept out many nights, and wandered up and down through the brush and swamps of Grand River for fifteen or twenty miles, we did not mind the fatigue because the sport was fine.
Rover was an adept in the art of catching coons. He caught eight or ten that fall in cornfields where they were doing much damage to the crops, and he ran the others up trees which the boys chopped down. Rover invariably got his coon when the tree fell. If the tree was a large one Rover and I would lie down to keep each other warm while the boys felled it. When the tree began cracking Rover would spring up and place himself where the top would fall, and never failed to nab the victim.
My share of the coon skins and the oil for the second year's hunting amounted to $4.35. Three dollars of
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 25
this was expended by me in buying shoes for myself and my brothers and sisters when the cobbler came to our house in the fall. I bought school-books for which I paid fifty cents, retaining eighty-five cents to spend at the General Training the next spring, where I repeated my dissipation of the previous year, spending twenty cents. I was very fond of General Training, because the boys and men indulged in all kinds of sports, such as running, jumping, wrestling and boxing, in which I took a very active part at an early age.
During the summer I helped my father on the farm at all sorts of work. That winter I went to common school three months, and returned to work again in the spring. Often I would work all day and hunt coons all night.
CHAPTER II
I am cheated by a sanctimonious deacon—Joshua Giddings inspires me with the ambition to be an orator—I leave home and begin the battle of life—School--I do a man's work, and save money.
There was a huckleberry swamp in the township of Bloomfield about five miles east of where we lived on Grand River, where 1 went two or three times during each summer with my mother and some of the neighbors and their children to gather huckleberries. We loaded a wagon each time with the berries, which were very abundant, so had to walk home. On one of these occasions the larger boys who were with us persuaded my mother to allow me to remain with them and attend a political meeting which was to be held at Bloomfield Center in the evening.
Several of the local candidates reveled in oratory, and Joshua Giddings was there and made a speech against the Democratic party. Giddings's speech inspired me with ambition to be a great man and to talk as he did. I never have forgotten the impressions I received at that meeting.
About that time I was taught a very valuable lesson by a man named Deacon Laird, a ranting member of the Methodist church, who was a neighbor of ours. My mother and Deacon Laird belonged to the same church and the families were quite friendly.
Early in June, when corn became, large enough to hoe, my father was called away to Cleveland, which was then a small village. Before he left he plowed a patch of corn and told me to hoe it while he was gone. As he expected to be away three or four days I had ample time to perform the task he left me. When I was on my way to the cornfield, the morning after my
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 27
father left, Deacon Laird's son John, about two years older than I, told me that his father wanted to hire me a day or two to help him hoe their corn. I told him I could do the work my father left me in about a day or a day and a half, and if he would hire me for two days I would take the chances of getting my work done before my father came back. He took me to his father, who was just going into the field with his old mare to plow. It was then about half past seven. Deacon Laird said he would hire me for two days and pay me twenty-five cents a day if I would work well. I thought it a good opportunity, because I had only twenty cents left of my coon money. We did not get fairly to work until about eight o'clock, but worked on until nearly dark.
The next day I was on hand at half past six in the morning and went to work immediately. We took a short recess in the middle of the day for dinner, and John and I worked like beavers to keep up with the deacon plowing the corn.
A little after four o'clock word came to the field that the mother of the hired girl was very ill and that the girl must go home immediately ; so the deacon let her take the old mare to ride, and stopped work, while John and I finished the hoeing in about half an hour. I then went with John to the yard gate and told him to go to his father and get the money to pay me. I supposed I was entitled to fifty cents for the two days' work. John came out in a few minutes and handed me a ten-cent piece so badly worn that I could not tell what its nationality was; but John said his father told him it was a York shilling, which was twelve and a half cents. I was very much in doubt about the money, and went a mile and a half to Mesopotamia Center to see Mr. Winter, a storekeeper, to ask him about it. He told me it was a very badly worn ten-cent piece and that I had better get rid of it as soon as I could.
28 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
The next morning I went to Deacon Laird to collect the balance of the money which was due me.
"You have worked only one day," he said, "only half a day each day you were here. I have paid you a shilling."
"No, it was only a ten-cent piece," I replied.
"I am never mistaken in money," he insisted.
I told him Mr. Winter said it was only a ten-cent piece.
"I have paid you twelve and a half cents, and I owe you twelve and a half cents more, which I will pay you some time when I have the money," he retorted.
"You say you will pay me only twelve and a half cents more, and you say that was a shilling you gave me," I answered, backing off a little, looking at him all the time and picking up some stones. When I said the last word I let drive at him and cursed him for everything I could think of. He came after me, but I got over the fence quicker than he could and got out of his way, and went to my father's cornfield and finished the work he left me to do.
I was greatly troubled for fear Deacon Laird would misrepresent the affair to my mother. I finally concluded I would make a clean breast of it and tell her all about it. She did not know that I had worked for Deacon Laird at all, and was very much affected by my story. She never chastised me when she was angry, but would always put it off and do it very deliberately later on. When I told her how I had cursed the Deacon she shed tears and said:
"My son, I am deeply hurt, and very sorry that you have used profane language. You don't know how it pains me."
I expected she would call me up the next day and punish me, but she never said a word about it. I noticed a coolness between her and Deacon Laird afterward, but she never mentioned the subject to me again.
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 29
This little experience with Deacon Laird has been of great value to me through life. It has made me suspicious of people who are too loud in their profession of religion. I have always been afraid that they were using the garb of sanctity to cloak their rascality, and. to my advantage, I have refrained from trusting them.
My coon hunting during the following year was not as profitable as the year before, my share amounting to only about $2.50, of which I spent $2 for shoes for myself and my brothers, and sisters. I was not able to procure many new (shoes, but the cobbler mended up the old ones and made us very comfortable that winter.
About a week before General Training the following spring, I was at Mr. Winter's store at Mesopotamia Center, and he invited me to take twelve o'clock dinner with him on General Training day. I gladly accepted the invitation, which relieved me from the expense of buying gingerbread and root beer.
The only recreation I had that summer from work on the farm was fishing and swimming in Grand River. The lock tender of the Erie Canal taught me to swim about as soon as I could walk; at all events, I do not remember when I could not swim. In the winter I again attended the district school on Grand River. Among the pupils was a black-eyed little girl, Mary Easton, about my own age, of whom I was very fond. The schoolhouse was warmed by an old-fashioned fireplace with a back-log, andirons, and a big pile of wood. The boys usually made the fire in the morning, and one morning while several of the larger boys were having difficulty in putting the back-log in place, in the presence of the other scholars, among whom was the black-eyed little girl, I seized the opportunity to show off.
I picked up one end of the back-log, the other slipped, and the log dropped on my toe, smashing it so it was
30 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
marked for life. I did not tell anybody I was hurt, but worked away at the log until I got it in place. I
then went home with my shoe almost full of blood; but after the toe was dressed I returned to school for the remainder of the day without letting the scholars know I had been hurt.
The following spring I met with a great calamity. Rover died. I have always thought some boys whom I would not take "cooning" with me poisoned him out of revenge. I buried him by the side of a big rock, and on a recent visit to my old home I found the rock and was able to identify the burial-place of my faithful dog.
The next summer and fall were spent working on my father's farm as usual, and in the winter I again attended the district school. I had then grown to be almost the size of a man, being in my fourteenth year. In the spring there was not much to do on the farm, as the corn planting did not take place until about the middle of May.
A neighbor named Nathan Brazee wanted to hire me for a short time. So one morning after breakfast, while my father was still in the house, and mother was attending to her household affairs, I asked father if he had any objections to my working for Mr. Brazee until time to plant corn. He treated my request rather lightly, and laughingly remarked:
"Why, certainly, you can go and stay as long as you have a mind, and you need not come back any more unless you wish to."
Mother overheard the remark, and said to him:
"Augustus, you had better not make a bargain with William, for if you do he will keep it."
He laughed again, and said:
"All right, it's a bargain. He can keep it."
I thanked him for his consent, and left the house that morning, went to the house of Mr. Brazee, and made
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 31
a contract to work for him for six months at eight dollars a month. I did all kinds of work, and fully supplied the place of a man until haying was over.
Mr. Brazee then called my attention to a five-acre lot of timbered land which he wanted cleared. The mode of clearing at that time was felling the trees, trimming and piling the brush, and cutting the bodies of the trees into logging lengths; that is, such lengths as could be rolled into log heaps and burned. I asked him how long a time he would allow me to clear the five acres, and he said, "The balance of your six months." I agreed to that and did the work in a little over six weeks, but my right hand bears the marks of that work to this day.
My six months' pay was due before Mr. Brazee was able to meet his obligation. Adjoining the five acres I had cut he had a ten-acre tract which formed an ell to his farm. I knew a man who wanted the ten acres, and I asked Mr. Brazee what he would take for the land. He said I might have it for what he owed me. I closed the bargain at once, went to the man whom knew wanted the land, and sold it to him for a yoke of steers and fifty sheep. 1 soon found a cash customer for my steers and sheep and sold them for sixty dollars.
I took this money and started to the academy at West Farmington, which was at that time quite a flourishing institution in the township adjoining Mesopotamia Township on the south. I rented a room for a dollar a month, bought a bed and bedding of very primitive quality for four dollars, and a second-hand cook-stove for a dollar and a quarter. I cooked my own food, which did not cost me more than three dollars a month.
I was a very poor scholar for my age. My clothing was cheap but comfortable. My large size, and the hard work I had performed, gave me rather an uncouth and awkward appearance, and as I went into the schoolroom and took my seat I observed a sup-
32 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
pressed titter among the girls, which I realized I had occasioned.
Although I was backward in everything else, I had a natural aptitude for mathematics. Adam's arithmetic was used in the school, and before I had been there a month, and although I was sometimes compelled to refer to the multiplication table to refresh my memory, I could do all the hard problems in the "back of the book"; and before the term was out I could answer any question or do any problem in the book. The girls, as usual, dreaded arithmetic, and when the teacher would call me out for recitation and open the book at the hardest place he could find, I would answer all questions and do anything that was to be done on the blackboard without hesitation. The girls did not titter any more, and I was gratified to find myself a decided favorite before the term expired.
During my vacation I worked for Deacon Goff, who lived about a mile south of the academy. Deacon Goff was a very good man, charitable, and benevolent. He never used his religion as an advertising medium. I carried off brick in his brick yard for three months at twelve dollars a month.
In the fall I went back to the academy, and I had saved up enough money to enable me to have my eldest sister attend school with me for two terms. I could do this because I paid my own board and lodging by working mornings and evenings for Mr. Leonard Lewis, who had a farm about a mile west of the academy. I milked cows, cut wood, and fed stock.
CHAPTER III
Herding cattle—First visit to a great city—I win fame as a harvester and lay my rivals out—Student and school teacher—An unruly pupil floored—I enter Yale—College pranks.
The following summer, when I was sixteen years old, I hired out to assist a drover by the name of Loveland, whose business was to buy cattle in the West in the winter and drive them in the spring and early summer to Chester and other counties of Pennsylvania near Philadelphia. The cattle were kept in pasture until the early fall and then made ready for the eastern market. There were no railroads of any considerable extent in those days, but there was a magnificent macadamized road between Pittsburg and Harrisburg, the capital of the State. Mr. Loveland's drove that year numbered about twelve hundred steers. The drove moved slowly, because we had to find pasture for them along the way as it would not pay-to buy feed. Before we were over the mountains Mr. Loveland acquired the habit of giving all his orders through me, and told me when I had no special orders to use my own judgment in directing the men.
When we arrived in Chester County he asked me if I could take care of the cattle and find them pasture for six weeks or two months. He said if I could do so he would let all the other men go, and when I needed help I could hire boys in the neighborhood and pay them, and also keep accounts and pay the pasture bills. I was glad to have such an arrangement, because the men who came over with the drove had become a little jealous of me, and I was afraid I would have trouble if he left them with me.
I had a most delightful time that summer. I lived at
34 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
various farm-houses, and became acquainted with all the girls and boys, who thought nothing of walking eight or ten miles from one farm-house to another. Cherries were ripe, and all sorts of berries; peaches and plums came later. I did not have to hire any help, for when 1 wanted to change the cattle from one pasture to another the boys of the neighborhood all wanted to help drive them and thought it was great sport.
Beyond question the good old German Quaker women of Pennsylvania at that time were endowed with as much human kindness and motherly love as any who have ever appeared on earth, before or since. They gave me better things to eat at the farm-houses where I stopped than can be found at the most fashionable homes of modern aristocracy. The day we forded the Susquehanna River with our drove of cattle was characterized by the hardest work of the whole journey. We had no time to eat breakfast in the morning and did not get our cattle into pasture until four o'clock. I then went to a confectionery stand on a broad porch near the end of the bridge across the river. There I saw a very tempting-looking pie, and asked an old lady keeping the stand the price of a piece. The pie was cut in quarters, the pieces were very large, the price was ten cents. I laid ten cents on the counter, and as she placed the pie before me she gave me a kindly look, which seemed to me like a benediction, and said, "You have been working very hard driving them cattle and you want something more substantial before you eat that pie." She then brought out a large bowl of milk and a loaf of home-made bread and a big cut of home-made cheese, and said, "I advise you to eat that first and the pie afterward."
I never relished a meal more in my life, and the pie was something new, being made of tomato preserves. I never have eaten anything in the shape of a pie that equaled it. While I was eating the good things she
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 35
gave me she kindly talked to me about the country, and gave me a good deal of local information in a very short time.
When I offered to pay her for what she had given me in addition to the pie, she said:
"No, young man; when I saw thee hungry, it more than paid me to give thee food."
In the fall Mr. Loveland sold out his drove, and wrote to me to meet him in about five days at Harrisburg, where we would settle our accounts and go home.
As I had never seen a large city, Pittsburg then being only a small village, I had a great anxiety to visit Philadelphia, which was about thirty miles distant. I ate an early breakfast at the farm-house where I was stopping, put some crackers in my pocket, and started on foot for the big city. About twelve o'clock I stopped at a wayside pump and dined on crackers and water. I reached Philadelphia some time before sundown. Chestnut Street to me was a wonder, and I was not too tired to go the whole length of the business part of it before I took lodging for the night.
There was a receiving-ship in the harbor where they were enlisting and training boys for the Navy. I contrived to get aboard, thinking perhaps it would be a good thing for me to go to sea; but when I saw how the officer of the deck treated the enlisted men, I came to the conclusion that I would not trade my freedom for one day for all the navies in the world. I hurried back to the city and spent the day in sight-seeing. It seemed strange, after I became familiar with cities, how wonderful commonplace things appeared to me on my first visit to Philadelphia. I walked back to Harrisburg and arrived there by the time appointed by Mr. Loveland. It did not take long to settle the accounts; in fact, they were already settled by the bank which kept account of my orders. We returned to Ohio together in a buggy.
36 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
I went back to the Farmington Academy during the fall term, and at the Christmas holidays I engaged to teach a school for three months at Hampton, Lake County, Ohio. My school closed before the close of the spring term at Farmington, and I went back there and reviewed my studies for a month.
In the mean time, a high school where students were preparing for college was established at Lyons, New York, so I determined to leave the academy and go there.
After visiting my home and making some presents to my mother, brothers, and sisters, l had hardy enough left to pay my passage on the lake steamer and canal boat to Lyons. I walked to Ashtabula, a distance of about twenty-live or thirty miles, and took a steamer for Buffalo. The boat stopped at Erie, Pennsylvania.
I arrived at Lyons on a canal boat about four o'clock in the afternoon with fifty cents in my pocket. It was haying and harvesting time and I apprehended no difficulty in getting immediate employment. 1 followed the road going south from Lyons about half or three-quarters of a mile, to a large farm-house with many out-buildings, and turned into the gate. There was a porch nearly all the way around the house, which was built something after the Pennsylvania style. In the shade of the porch fronting the gate an old lady and gentleman were sitting in quiet conversation. I asked the old gentleman if he wanted any more help. He said:
"Yes, I want three or four more hands, but you look too delicate for my work; I don't think I want you." I turned to go away, and his wife said to him:
"Mr. Dunn, why don't you give that young man a chance? He is large and strong; it is his light complexion that makes him look delicate. Please give him a chance."
The old man called out to me in a gruff voice :
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 37
"Come back here, young man. What can you do ?" "Any work you have on the farm," I replied.
"Can you mow?"
"Yes."
"Can you cradle?"
"Yes."
"Can you rake and bind ?"
"Yes."
He pointed to a field near the barn, containing four acres of timothy and clover, and told me that the field was ripe enough to cut and that I might try my hand there.
He took down a scythe that was lying on a shed near by and told me to turn the grindstone and he would grind the scythe for me. I told him if I were going to mow I should prefer to grind my own scythe. "Can you grind a scythe ?" he said. I told him I could. The old lady spoke up again, saying:
"Mr. Dunn, you turn the grindstone and let the young man grind his own scythe," and he did so.
The next day I commenced mowing, but my hands were tender, as I had not worked recently, and they soon blistered and bled. I kept on, however, and before night I had cut two acres of that heavy grass, which was half the field. The men, as they came in from the wheat-field where eight or ten of them had been at work, took a look at what I had done, and spoke to Mr. Dunn about it as they passed into the farm-house. I did not hear what they said or his reply, but the old lady came to my relief again and said loud enough for me to hear, "I told Mr. Dunn that young man could work."
I finished mowing the next day, and the following morning Mr. Dunn told me I might go into the wheat-field and rake and bind, and that if I could keep up with the cradle it would he a dollar a day, but if I failed to do that it would he only seventy-five cents. I kept up with the cradle four days and the wheat harvest was
38 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
done. By that time Mr. Dunn and his wife had become my particular friends. They had a daughter, Sallie, about eighteen years old, and the old gentleman gave me an introduction to her, which was regarded at that time as a special honor.
There were two large fields, one on either side of the road, each containing about one hundred acres. Much of that ground is now occupied by the New York Central Railroad. Mr. Dunn said to me, "I want you to help mow those fields, and as 1 have observed that you arc particular about your scythe, we will go over to the village where you can pick one out and I will buy it for you." We carried out the suggestion, but the scythe had to be ground the next morning before it was fit for use. He told me to grind it and he would turn the grindstone, and while I was doing so, he said, "I don't want the men crowded, but I want them to be kept at work, and I want you to see to it that they don't fool away their time."
This conversation was unfortunately overheard by some of the men before they went out. As soon as my scythe was ground I followed them, but they all stopped down at a big gate opening into the field on the right-hand side of the road, and sneeringly said to me, "Boss, you go ahead and we will follow."
It was about half a mile across the field, and the person going ahead was required to lead the way and turn a double swath back, which is a great deal harder work than mowing after a swath has been cut.
Mr. Dunn had a nephew, whose name also was Dunn, a strong, vigorous man about thirty years old, and he had been in the habit of acting as foreman. He was very angry at my being selected to lead the men. He came immediately after me, and eight other men followed him. He mowed so close to me that it made it very hard work all the way round while I was turning the double swath. It was then my turn to go behind
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 39
all the others, and Dunn's to go ahead. I did not care much for the others, but Dunn's meanness, as I regarded it, annoyed me, and I decided then and there that he or I would have the worst of it before night.
I crowded up on the men before me, and either mowed around them or made them get out of the way and fall behind me until I got up to Dunn, then I followed him without giving him a breathing-spell. When we got around near the gate where we started we were too far ahead of the other mowers to change with them, so I went ahead and he followed me, and we continued that process until night.
The race attracted the attention of the people at the house, as they could see us from the porch. When we quit work that night Mr. Dunn called me aside and said he had no intention of killing me when he told me to keep the men at work, and that it was not necessary to mow any more until we had hauled in the hay already cut. I asked him if it would not be just as well to let his nephew and me mow until the grass was all cut, and let the others take it in.
"No," he said, "I am afraid you will kill yourself. He is older and ought to be tougher than you."
I insisted on mowing with young Dunn the next day. We slept in a large room in the second story on mattresses which were spread on the floor. Whiskey was used pretty freely on Mr. Dunn's farm, and there was always a jug in the field with the water bucket for those who chose to drink it. I did not drink whiskey at that time, but I told Mr. Dunn to put a bottle of it under my head and I would use it to wet the blanket under which I slept, which would prevent my being sore the next morning. When I awoke about dawn I felt as limber as usual. I watched the movements of Mr. Dunn's nephew and observed that he was a little stiff.
The fact that the race was going on became known, and Miss Dunn invited several of her friends to join
40 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
her and see the sport that day. We mowed on as we had done the day before, each working his best until four o'clock, at which time the young lady and one of the serving-women were in the habit of taking a lunch to the field for the men at work. On this occasion six or seven young ladies came with Miss Dunn when the lunch was brought out. I ate sparingly, but my appetite was fairly good. Dunn ate a few mouthfuls and we started back to our mowing. When he had mowed about a rod he lay down on the ground and vomited, and was too sick to get up. The girls told me to quit, but I told them I would not, but to send a team and take Dunn home, and I worked on until quitting time, but not over vigorously. When harvesting was over Mr. Dunn brought out a roll of bills, and handed them to me, saying, "I think that will pay you off."
On counting the money I found he had allowed me a dollar and a half a day for the whole time.
When the Lyons Union School commenced its fall term I became a student in that institution. The school had four grades, first, second, third, and fourth. Professor Brittan was the president, and he, with an assistant, taught the languages. Professor Elliott was teacher of higher mathematics. I devoted myself during the first term to the languages, and reviewed with Professor Elliott some of the higher mathematics which I had previously studied.
At the end of the fall term, which lasted three months, I taught a district school in the town of Phelps, which was about fifteen miles south of Lyons. I had a good school, and made many pleasant acquaintances which I have continued to the present day.
When I returned to the Union School at Lyons the following spring term I was offered and accepted the place of teacher of the third grade. Professor Brittan very kindly heard my lessons in the languages out of school hours.
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 41
There was a family of Easlicks living in Lyons, consisting of father, mother, and three or four boys. They were all bad boys at school. George W., the oldest, was about a year older than I and regarded as the bully of the town. He had had trouble with my predecessor, William S. Hall, and the trustees expelled him from the school. After I was appointed his father came to me and begged very earnestly to have his boy taken back into the school. Mr. Hall and the other teachers about the institution advised me to keep him out. I saw the trustees and they said I had better not take him back; but I told his father that I would receive him in the school, and the next day George came swaggering in and began to play tricks on the smaller boys. Several of them complained to me, and I told George he ought to behave himself and let the little boys alone. He said nothing, but gave me an insolent grin.
The next day he lifted a small boy, who was sitting in front of him, by his hair and made the little fellow cry out pitifully. I walked toward him in an easy manner and told him 1 would have to punish him. He appeared to regard that as the best joke he had ever heard, and came swaggering toward me to show me that he was ready for a fight. I grabbed and tripped him and he fell full length on his face. I jumped on his back, caught him by the hair, jammed his nose against the floor and hit him as hard as I could under the butt of the ear, which made him senseless for a few minutes. I waited for him to recover, but kept my position for fear he might revive and get the better of me.
When he was able to speak he said, "Let us reason."
"Reason be damned!" I replied. "I propose to kill you if you don't behave yourself." He readily promised to behave in future, and he never gave me another moment's trouble, although he continued to attend during the remainder of the term.
George had a younger brother about fourteen years
42 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
old who was in the same grade at the same time, and as he was a pretty good fighter I did not know but he would interfere, but he only looked on. The younger brother became an athlete in after years, and made quite a fortune by performing in Barnum's shows and other public places.
At the end of the term Professor Elliott resigned, and I was appointed temporarily to take his place at a better salary than 1 was receiving as teacher of the third grade.
Some of the scholars were well advanced in mathematics. Perkins's Algebra was the work in use on that subject. Mr. Perkins was a great scholar who resided at Albany, N. Y. We got along very nicely. The scholars all took deep interest, and I was able to explain everything until we came to a proposition in the latter part of the book which involved the principle of dividing nothing by nothing.
Dividing nothing by nothing produces an indeterminate quantity. You can make the strictly mathematical formula 2 equal 4 or any other absurd and unexpected results follow from combinations involving that principle. I discovered that the author was wrong, and so informed the class. The executive committee of the trustees were also informed, and they took it for granted that it was my fault; that I did not understand the question. They called a meeting of the executive board and notified me to be present the following Saturday evening.
I wrote immediately to Professor Perkins, pointing out his error. I was confident he would correct it, because he was a good mathematician and had not observed the combination which his demonstration involved. The board was very suspicious. I told them that I was right and undertook to explain it to them. Of course they were not sufficiently versed in mathematics to understand the explanation. The youngest
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 43
member of the board, James C. Smith, afterward Judge Smith, asked me how much time I wanted to communicate with Professor Perkins. I told him I had already written Professor Perkins and that I thought I would get a letter within a week or ten days. He asked me if a month would be satisfactory. "Entirely," I replied, adding that I would go on with the class and take up other branches which they desired to pursue.
Until I heard from Professor Perkins I felt that I was under a cloud; but I waited patiently, expecting to be relieved. In about two weeks I received a letter from the Professor, containing about four pages of a new edition of the book that he was about to issue, which corrected his mistake and acknowledged that I was right. I visited the president of the board and asked him to call a meeting, saying that I was ready to report. They called a meeting. I laid the matter before them and they seemed delighted. My reputation rose from below zero far above my deserts as a mathematician. The whole school, in fact the whole community, thought I knew everything about mathematics.
I continued to teach until the fall of 1848, when I thought I was prepared to enter Yale. I had been able to save but little money, but Mr. James C. Smith, who had taken my part as one of the executive committee, loaned me some money which made it possible for me to enter the college. He added to it from time to time while I was at Yale until it reached nearly two hundred dollars. Nothing has given me more pleasure than the privilege later of paying it back with more interest than he was willing to take.
When I was examined for admission to Yale the same proficiency in mathematics which had done me so much service at Lyons helped me. Professor Olmstead, who was professor of chemistry, was examining the class for admission in arithmetic. Professor
44 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
Stanley, who was professor of mathematics, was also present assisting in the examination. There were several other professors examining in the languages, for they were very strict in those days. Professor Olmstead gave me a slate and pencil. He wrote two ciphers, one above the other, and asked me to divide one cipher by the other.
I deliberately went to work and used every formula at my command, showing that the result was an indeterminate quantity. I not only used the algebraic formula by which you could prove 2 to equal 4 and the like, but I understood how to use a similar formula involving the same principle in differential calculus. I filled the slate with a great variety of solutions, all showing that nothing divided by nothing was an indeterminate quantity.
When Professor Olmstead came to me I handed him my slate and told him that nothing divided by nothing resulted in an indeterminate quantity, as I had proved in various ways. "Why, nothing divided by nothing, isn't that once?" he said. "No," I replied.
He took the slate and went to Professor Stanley, and the latter asked which student had done the problem. Professor Olmstead pointed to me. "Ask him no more questions; admit him," said Professor Stanley. So the examination in the languages was merely formal, and I went through easily, which was a great relief to me.
I passed the first year in Yale without making a mistake in mathematics, although I do not believe I spent two hours during the year studying my lessons. I did that at Farmington and Lyons, where I examined all the geometries, algebras, books on trigonometry, surveying, plain and differential calculus and conic sections that I could find—a much more thorough course than was pursued in any of the colleges. I was so much absorbed in mathematics at times that I often worked
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 45
all night, and when called for breakfast was unconscious that I had been engaged any considerable length of time,
The languages gave me more labor at Yale, but mathematics came very near being the ruin of me. There were problems for which additional marks were given out by Tutor Grant, our division tutor. He gave them out and I would do them for the boys who were dull in mathematics. He was very suspicious of me, and tried very hard to get even by finding questions that I could not answer. He thought he had me one day. In Playfair's Euclid, which was used at the college, there is a demonstration, and then a note below at the bottom of the page in fine print, stating that the q point can he demonstrated in a similar way without giving the demonstration. Most of the young men failed on the q point. It was in the lesson given out, but it had not attracted my attention and I had not looked at it, and was uncertain whether I could demonstrate it or not.
As I was going into the class-room I told Tutor Grant that I had not looked at the q point and I would rather not be called on for it if he would excuse me; that I had not asked any favors before and I did not want to miss answering any questions put to me.
He simply gave me a sardonic grin, as tantalizing as he could make it. He pulled out papers by lot and called the class up to demonstrate on the blackboard, so that nobody knew, and he did not know, what problem any student would get.
When he came to the q point he drew five different papers until he came to my name. He then called out, "Stewart!" I had told the class that I had not examined it.
I went to the blackboard, asked the tutor to read the proposition over again, and he read it in a vindictive, harsh and loud, but clear voice. When he finished I had thought it all out. When I had written it he
46 Reminiscences of William M. Stewart
said, "Sufficient," in a snappish tone, and the class all cheered me, which was a great indecorum and came very near breaking up the meeting.
My anger was aroused by his treatment. The students published a paper called The Tomahawk. We could not publish it at the college. It was a secret society paper and was printed in a cellar in New York, and we distributed it from there. It poked fun and ridicule at everybody. We had observed when we went to Tutor Grant's room, where we had to go to ask favors of any kind or to be excused, that he was receiving letters from two different ladies, and that he put them in separate pigeonholes. We concluded that he must have some love secrets.
There was a little fellow, Talcott, who was a good scholar in the languages and quite a poet, being able to write doggerel with great facility. He and I obtained excuses from attending chapel on the same Sunday. It was summer-time and the windows in the professors' dormitory were open. Tutor Grant was a bachelor.
I secured a painter's ladder and Talcott climbed into Tutor Grant's room, took some letters from the two pigeonholes, and worked them into verses. It seems the two girls were jealous of each other; and Talcott, in the doggerel, made them reply to what Grant wrote, he pretending to each that she was the only one.
We had that printed in the paper, and Talcott stuck four or five copies in Tutor Grant's hat, and when he was at dinner scattered them around the whole college. We had to do it clandestinely, but it raised an uproar. Grant wanted the faculty to get together and punish the guilty parties. I was frightened then.
One of the students had a room just under the room where the faculty met. We got a bit and bored a hole into the floor, and stuck a tube into it and brought it down into the room beneath, so that we could hear what the faculty said. They ran him a good deal about the
Reminiscences of William M. Stewart 47
joke the boys had on him, but he was fearfully mad and wanted them to trace it out and expel the guilty parties. He said he knew I was at the bottom of it, and that nobody else could invent such a trick as that. The faculty wanted proof, as they would not expel me on hearsay. They wound up by resolving not to do anything unless they had evidence.
Professor Stanley was my friend. He sent for me the next night and said to me, "You must stop this. I know he is not a very agreeable man, and deserved it, but you must stop it."
Another time mathematics came very near ruining me. At the end of the second term prize problems were given out for the freshmen and junior classes to solve. I solved every one.
I had a friend in the sophomore class whom I liked very much, and I gave him the solution of a very hard problem and he secured a prize. Professor Stanley thought I had done it, and sent for me and asked me to solve that problem for him. I tried very hard to find a way to do it different from the way I did it for my friend. He told me I need not go any further, that there was only one way to do it.
"Now," said he, "this is the second time I have caught you, and if you try to do anything of the kind again you will be found out and I will not protect you."
CHAPTER IV
Gold fever—I determine to go to California—Storm off Hatteras--Arrival in Panama—A priest and a cock fight—Gambling in San Francisco--In desperate straits—Ill with fever, I struggle to the gold diggings—Money in sick miners—My first claim.
After commencement in 1849 I went to Lyons, which I regarded as my home, and spent the vacation in such work as I could find. While there glowing accounts were constantly received through the newspapers of the gold mines discovered in California, and many young men were leaving for the Pacific.
Judge Sherwood was anxious that I should go to the gold fields and try my luck at mining. He said he would lend me sufficient money to pay my transportation by way of the Isthmus, as it was then too late to cross the plains that season. I went to New York to obtain passage, but found everything taken for about three months ahead, and the best I could do was to secure transportation on the steamer Philadelphia, a shaky old craft that was to sail about Christmas.
I went hack to Yale for the fall term, and left at the holiday vacation, starting early in January on the voyage to Panama, and a very rough voyage we had from New York to Cuba, too.
A storm raged off Hatteras for about forty-eight hours, which came very near destroying our ship. The old hulk had been fitted up with shelves called berths, and we were packed in after the fashion of so many herrings.
There was not sufficient room for coal below