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CHAPTER XIX.

Just Judgment-General Prentiss in Close Confinement—
Northern Peace Men-Bear Story--In the Hospital-
Old Aunt Susie-Sold Children-Without Bread, and
Satisfied-What our Fathers thought-An Untram-
meled Pulpit-Clay-eaters-Commissioners to Wash-
ington-Homeward Bound-An Irate Southron--My
Yellow Angel--Our Journey-An Accident--Jeff. Davis'
Coffin-Don't Know Myself-Safe at Home--Conclusion.

252-285

INTRODUCTION.

JOHN JAMES GEER was born in Rockbridge county, Virginia, June 1st, 1833. He is next to the youngest of a family of nine children. The father emigrated to Ohio when John was quite young, and settled in Shelby county, where he lived and labored as an industrious farmer for a long lifetime. Being in moderate circumstances, he was unable to educate his children as he wished, as their young hands were an indispensable help in the clearing and tilling of the land; but the lads wrought for themselves a training and discipline in the fields, and at the fireside, such as made honest-hearted heroes of them.

Though this tuition may not be the most fashionable, it is far from being the least useful or influential in a nation like ours. The only external polish that will never grow coarse is

the out-shining of inward purity and kindness. The law of love is a sufficient code of politeness and etiquette. The rarest soul-furnishing, and the most radiant and reliable loyalty, are virtuous intelligence, an appreciation of the true and the beautiful in Nature, in mind and morals, the utterance of generous impulses, the self-respect that prefers its own calm approval to the world's admiration and flattery. Such a heroism is purely democratic, and sets the price of its integrity too high to offer itself as a prize for party bidding! It stands like a granite pillar, strong, and straight, and upright. We may build on this, and stand secure for solid years. It is this untrammeled life the nation needs at this very time in the hearts of all her citizens.

Mr. Geer never received any lessons in the school of pretences. He never learned the art of deceiving or being deceived. He studied something deeper of the world while his hands held the plough that furrowed its surface. He gained more instruction from the leaves on the forest trees than from the leaves of printed books. He cultivated at one and the same time his own

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