there been a school in the neighborhood of Richmond, which was not the case, he could have found no time to attend it, being ever laboriously engaged from morning until night. He learned to form the letters of the alphabet in the following ingenious and original manner, which he related to us when a mere child, we were making the first advances in the use of the pen. After not a little thought and sober calculation as to how he should accomplish his purpose—for pen, ink and paper were luxuries his father's means could not command—for paper he substituted thin pieces of birch bark, neatly prepared for the purpose by his own hands, and for pen and ink he used coals taken from the fire. With these rude materials, after the labors of the day were over, seated on the floor, by the light of the fire—for candles were too expensive to be afforded in the frugal household of his father—he taught himself to write. A student, actuated by such resolution and determination of purpose, must soon become a proficient, in defiance of every minor obstacle; and thus he speedily improved with these humble means.
Some further idea of the limited means of his father's family, and the extraordinary disadvantages under which his early progress was made, may be gathered from the fact, that the only books the house contained, or in fact that the family had access to at all, were a Bible, an old dictionary, and a well-thumbed pamphlet of the scriptural story of the tower of Babel. A newspaper in the days of which we write, in the town of Richmond, would have been considered a most rare curiosity. Perhaps this very dearth of literary material led Mr. Ballou to be the more intimate with that volume
"Within whose sacred pages lies
The mystery of mysteries,"
with which alone no student can be poor, without which the largest library is incomplete. It has been remarked of the sacred volume, that, as the face of nature is bedecked with colors and adornments to render it agreeable to the senses, so its pages are filled with that luxury of poetry and language and incident which commends it to every imagination. Even the half-unbelieving Byron confessed that nothing in literature was finer than the poetry of the Old Testament. Thus the word, like the bow of promise, is gilded with the fairest hues. The solemn march of historical narration, the sublime hymns of triumph, praise and rejoicing, the records of battles and heroic deeds, the familiar narrative, the interesting parable, the pithy proverb, the terse and vigorous delineation of character, the sublime visions of inspired prophecy, are all there. Of almost every style of literary composition there is an example, captivating alike to the humblest reader and the most cultivated critic. It is the beginning and the end of learning. In the midst of the sublimest flights of human genius, amid the most burning words of modern eloquence, introduce a passage of scripture, and how poor will seem the language and the thoughts by which it is surrounded!
Need we count that house poor in literary possessions which contains a Bible?
If it be true that there are certain ennobling qualities, to produce which a soil of privation and poverty is requisite, the reader is doubtless already prepared to allow that Mr. Ballou was not deficient in the necessary experience for their possession. A lack of those advantages which are enjoyed in the "schools of human learning" did not lead him in the least to undervalue the humble opportunities for acquiring mental discipline and useful information that every-day life graciously affords to all. But the clear, free river of knowledge and unbounded information, that now pours out its wealth at the feet of the people, was then undiscovered. It has been left to these more modern and favored times for inventions in the arts to so revolutionize the means of disseminating knowledge, as to lay the wealth of wisdom at the poor man's door.
At the age of sixteen he left the paternal roof for the first time, and made a journey on foot to Guildford, Vt., a distance of about forty miles from Richmond. Here he visited an elder brother, and, after working with him upon his farm through the season, returned to his father's house again in the fall. About one year from the time of his visit to Guildford, he visited another brother who resided in Putney, Vt., where he also labored for a season upon the farm, employing all his leisure moments to the improvement of such simple means as were within his power to command, aided by the greater experience and better mental cultivation of his brother. He remained through that season only at Putney, however, and returned again in the fall of the year to Richmond.
At the age of eighteen he went to Smithfield, R. I., where many of his relations, on the paternal side, were settled. Here also he devoted himself to constant labor during the day, and to the eager perusal of any and all books to which he could obtain access, during the evenings and a large portion of the nights. He remained in Smithfield but about six months, again returning to the place of his nativity. In making these changes he was almost solely actuated by a desire for instruction and general information, and this being his great aim, we have seen how much he improved every available means to consummate it, and thus his exploring and impressible mind was not a little enriched. The time passed at home during the intermediate and subsequent periods to those referred to, was employed by him upon his father's farm, in the tilling of the soil, and in constant efforts to improve his mind. Those who were older than himself were earnestly questioned for their experience. Those who had enjoyed any educational advantages were eagerly sought after, and regarded by him as favored beings, and their conversation listened to with avidity.
The improvement and development of a mind in this condition, a healthy mind in a healthy body, is exceedingly rapid. It is then
"Wax to receive, and marble to retain."
It seizes eagerly on all the food placed before it, and rapidly digests every acquisition. The condition of a mind with every appliance for improvement at hand, is not unlike that of a person with every variety and quality of food set before him for the gratification of a bodily appetite. Repletion, satiety, and indigestion, follow in one case precisely as in the other. Many of our modern students are crammed and gorged with study. The mental appetite is over-indulged; and an attempt to master too much is doubtless the besetting literary sin of the present day. The cases of mental dyspepsia are as common as those of the body. Sound scholarship consists not so much in the quantity of material consumed, as in the quantity properly prepared for intellectual nurture. A man may possess a fund of encyclopedic knowledge, and yet his mental powers may be weakened by the very process of grasping so many details. He may be good authority to appeal to, but will hardly prove a sound thinker or a good logician. "Not many, but good, books," was the golden advice of a wise man on the formation of a library. Self-made men, like Mr. Ballou, are apt to make judicious selections in culling the great field of knowledge, while those who pass through a regular, systematic, academic training, are often forced to fill their minds with a mass of matter for which they have no use, and to waste much time in questionable acquirements, simply because in so doing they comply with the requisitions of a prescribed formula.
It was customary for the young men of all classes in those days to pursue athletic exercises, such as pitching the bar, leaping, wrestling, and the like, these being regarded as the surest tests of bodily strength. Possessing a powerful and active frame, he was ever the victor in those sports; and from his marked success among his comrades in this respect, and his fair and impartial disposition, he was universally the umpire in all disputes growing out of these and like contests for superiority that arose between one and another. In the matter of his physical strength, particularly when young, he ever cherished, a laudable degree of pride, and delighted in accomplishing a large amount of work within the hours devoted to labor.
In this connection, Mr. Ballou says:—"I have the comfort, even in my old age, of remembering that I was deemed in our family circle to be a good child, and marked for giving evidence of being less averse to necessary labor than others. Though this contributed somewhat to make me proud, and to think well of myself, in other respects it was of some advantage to me to be held in esteem by my mates, who ever showed that they had a peculiar regard for me."
Mr. Ballou undoubtedly owed the vigorous health which carried him through the exertions of a life protracted beyond the allotted span, to the athletic training of his youth, in his labors and in his sports. One of the besetting sins of the present mode of education is the almost total neglect of physical training, and the forcing system applied to the mind at the expense of the body. We hear much about sanitary reform and the necessity of exercise; we write and read voluminous treatises on the best mode of preserving bodily health, and almost all of us can