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our fellow-creatures, never to forget that, if they are imperfect persons, they are still immortal souls, and treat them as you would wish to be treated, in the light of that thought.
“As to the application of means, -abstain from punishment as much as possible, and use encouragement as far as you can, without flattery.' But be even more careful as to strict truth in this regard towards children than to
For to the child the parent or teacher is the representative of justice; and as the school of life is severe, an education which in any degree excites vanity is the very worst preparation for that general and crowded school.
“I doubt not you will teach grammar well; as I saw you aimed at principles in your practice. In geography, try to make pictures of the scenes, that they may be present to their imaginations, and the nobler faculties be brought into action as well as memory.
“ In history, try to study and paint the characters of great men: they best interpret the leadings of events amid the nations.
“I am pleased with your way of speaking of both people and pupils. Your view seems from the right point; yet beware of over-great pleasure in being popular or even beloved."
“ These are the gardens of the desert, these
The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful,
“ He that watereth shall be watered also himself.”
IN graduating, in 1843, Arthur Fuller com
menced that career of enthusiastic and tireless public activity, which was never inter
mitted except by the tribute of sleep he grudgingly paid to the night, and the occasional protests of overtasked nature in the transient form of illness, till he rested forever from his labors on the battle-field of Fredericksburg. The ink of his college diploma was scarcely dry, when he started for the prairies of the West, on a mission of teaching and preaching. He embarked not only his whole soul, but his whole fortune in this enterprise; investing the several hundred dollars still remaining of his patrimony in the purchase of an academy in Belvidere, Illinois. He attached himself to this institution, as he did to the pastorate of several churches afterward, at the nadir of fortune's wheel, sure that it could go no lower, and hoping to give an upward impulse.
The academy at Belvidere had been discontinued, and was now re-opened. It was an expired light, in a locality where its lamp, well trimmed and burning, might radiate afar, without a rival, over a new, broad, and interesting field, as a much-needed beacon of knowledge and influence. We always thought the principal who now started the Belvidere academy into new life was admirably calculated for the Western field, by reason of the animated, almost feverish impetus of activity, which would not let him rest, and which was in harmony with the rush and onward sweep of Western life. Here, too, his delight in nature could be amply gratified, as he rode over the level or rolling prairie, with its beautiful flowers nodding among the verdure, its occasional park, and its broad horizon, regaled by the melodious songster, the long-drawn strain of the turtle-dove, the clouds of pigeons, like the arrows of Persia, darkening the sun, and made romantic, too, and even dangerous, by the prowling packs of rapacious wolves. Such were the Illinois prairies in 1843. Belvidere, the shire town of Boone County, already numbered nearly a thousand inhabitants, and every day swelled its census. The town is located on the eastern head-waters of the Rock River, in a region of unsurpassed natural beauty.
Margaret, in 1843, thus depicts scenes of Rock River: “It is only five years since the poor Indians have been dispossessed of this region of sumptuous loveliness, such as can hardly be paralleled in this world. No wonder they poured out their blood freely before they would go. On one of the river islands may still be found the cachés' for secreting pro
visions, the wooden troughs in which they pounded their corn, and the marks of their tomahawks upon felled trees. When the present owner first came,
he found the body of an Indian woman, in a canoe, elevated on high poles, with all her ornaments on. This island is a spot where Nature seems to have exhausted her invention in crowding it with all kinds of growths, from the noblest trees down to the most delicate plants. It divides the river, which there sweeps along in a clear and glittering current, betwixt noble parks, richest green lawns, pictured rocks, crowned with old hemlocks, or smooth bluffs, three hundred feet high, the most beautiful of all. Two of these, the Eagle's Nest' and the Deer's Walk,' still the habitual resort of the grand and beautiful creatures from which they are named, were the scene of some of the happiest hours of my life. I had no idea, from verbal description, of the beauty of these bluffs ; nor can I hope to give any to others. They tower so magnificently, bathed in sunlight: they touch the heavens with so sharp and fair a line! This is one of the finest parts of the river ; but it seems beautiful enough to fill any heart and eye all along its course ; and nowhere broken or injured by the hand of man." *
On the twenty-sixth of September, 1843, Arthur started upon his Western mission, with a quick ear and eye for observation, and a thirst for information, which made the world an instructive book, from whose pages he who had gone forth to teach should himself be taught. Early in his journey, a scene in the railroad car furnished the first lesson. Arthur has himself recorded it.
* Margaret Fuller's Unpublished Works, Vol. II. p. 677.
“ A little boy of twelve years of age, poor and ragged, came into the car. There was a slight shrinking from him manifested by some of the well-dressed passengers. He took his seat quietly near me; and a sea-captain, who entered at the same time, told me his touching story. I learned that he was a poor orphan, and, three days before, had been wrecked. A vessel which had seen the accident sent forth its boat, to save from a watery grave any who might be rescued. They spied the little boy, floating amid the waste of waters, and approached him ; but he, with a generosity, alas ! too rare, cried out: Never mind me! save the captain : he has a wife and six children.' Poor fellow ! he knew that the captain had those who loved him and would need his support. The captain, in telling me the story, was much affected, and said, with a sympathy characteristic of the mariner, . The boy has only the clothes you see, sir ; or he would not
be so ragged. I care not so much for myself, though · I too lost all; but the poor lad will have a hard time
of it.' Several persons, on hearing this story, gave small sums to the poor orphan; and advised him to make a statement to other passengers, who would doubtless give something. • I am not a beggar,' was his only answer; •I don't wish to beg their money.' At this moment, a fine, benevolent-looking individual arose in a seat near me, and unostentatiously offered to plead for him who would not prefer his own claim. Most successful was the warm-hearted appeal which he made to the passengers; and ten dollars were collected.
“ The plain, practical, common-sense way in which