having written to Chase, in 1863 and 1864, for information on which to build his entertaining story, he was favored with many letters from the great man, in which may be found some autobiographical notes of great value, which probably otherwise would never have been written. The lad was finally taken into the charge of two young men who were going to Worthington, and they went forward in company. "The settlement of the country," wrote Mr. Chase, in later years, "was only begun. Great forests stretched across the State. Carriage-ways were hardly practicable. Almost all travelling was performed on foot or on horseback. The two young men had two horses, and the arrangement was that we were to ride and tie, that is to say, one was to ride ahead some distance, then dismount and tie his horse, and walk forward. The person on foot was to come up, take the horse, ride on beyond the walker in front, then tie, and so on. We passed through Wooster, staying there overnight. This place seemed to me to be a great one, and the lighted houses, as we went in after dark, were very splendid. In three or four days we reached Worthington. I entered the town walking, and met my uncle in the street with two or three of his clergy or friends." The young lad, now domesticated with his uncle, the Bishop of Ohio, was expected to pursue his studies, already well begun, and to "do chores." He was proficient in Latin and Greek, and "Rollin's Ancient History" was read and reread by him, as many modern boys might read a cheap novel. "A ludicrous incident of his Worthington life," says one of his biographers, J. W. Shuckers, "fastened itself strongly in his memory. One morning the bishop and all the older members of the family went away, leaving the boy at home, with directions to kill and dress a pig for the next day's dinner." "I had no The House in which Mr. Chase was Born, at Cornish, N. H. great difficulty," said Mr. Chase, "in catching and slaughtering a fat young porker. A tub of hot water was in readiness for plunging him in preparatory to taking off his bristles. Unfortunately, however, the water was too hot, or perhaps when I soused the pig into it I kept him. there too long. At any rate, when I undertook to remove the bristles, expecting that they would come off almost of themselves, I found to my dismay that I could not stir one of them. In pigkilling phrase, the bristles were 'set.' I pulled and pulled in vain. What was I to do? The pig must be dressed. About that there must be no failure. I thought of my cousin's razors, a nice new pair, just suited to the use of a spruce young clergyman as he was. No sooner thought of than done. I got the razors and shaved the pig from tail to snout. I think the shaving was a success. The razors were damaged by the operation, however, but they were carefully cleaned and restored to their place. My impression is that, on the whole, the killing was not satisfactory to the bishop, and that my cousin did not find his razors exactly in condition for use the next morning. But the operation had its moral, and showed that where there is a will there is a way." This humble and grotesque experience in young Chase's life may very fairly be taken as an indication of the stuff that was in him. His will was indomitable, and whatever he set out to do, from that day until the day he laid down his life, was done. Ohio." Those were hard times in hard times in "The "Prices of all provisions were low. Corn was ten and even six cents a bushel, the purchaser himself gathering it in the field. Twenty-five cents would buy a bushel of wheat, good and in good order. There were no good roads, no accessible markets, no revenue, and salaries were small. I have heard the bishop say that his whole money income as bishop did not pay his postage bills. It took a bushel of wheat to pay for the conveyance of a letter over one hundred and sixty miles." So when the good bishop was offered the presidency of Cincinnati College, in 1822, he accepted the place as offering a means of deliverance from his hard and unprofitable post at the head of the diocese. Salmon P. Chase entered the college as a freshman, but by extra study was very soon promoted to the sophomore class, in which he distinguished himself by his industry and application. His first public exercise was a year earlier, when he delivered an original Greek oration. “My subject," he says, "was Paul and John compared, Paul being the principal figure. What trouble I had to turn my English thoughts into Greek forms! The subject helped me, however, for it allowed me to take sentences from the Testament and thus abridge my labors!" The orator was highly successful, generously applauded, and received the commendation of his uncle, the bishop. While sophomore in Cincinnati College a mischievous student set fire to one of the desks. Great was the consternation, and when the fire had been put out the tutor began, with the students ranged in the class, with," Sophomoredid you set fire to the desk?" "No, sir." "Do you know who did?" "No, sir." He reached the culprit. "Did you set fire to the desk?" Nothing abashed, his answer was, "No, sir." "Do you know who did?" "No, sir." Says Chase: "I saw I had to pass the ordeal, and determined to |