id="id00053">My education was obtained at the local schools and at the seminary at Mount Morris two hundred miles distant from my father's home.

In my boyhood years there were no common schools. There were only such schools in the country as the people by subscription saw proper to provide. The schoolhouse in the neighborhood in which I lived was built of logs, covered with thick boards, and supplied with rude benches on its puncheon floor for the scholars to sit upon. We sat bolt upright, there being nothing to lean against. There were no desks for our books; and had desks been obtainable there were but few books to use or care for. We boys whispered to the girls at our peril; but we took the risk occasionally.

It was my duty as a school-boy, after doing the chores and work inseparable from farm life, to walk every morning a long distance over rough country roads to school. After I had attained to a fair common-school education, I concluded that I could teach a country school, and was employed to teach in the neighborhood; first for three months at eighteen dollars per month, and then for a second term of three months at twenty. I think I have a right to assume that I did well as a teacher, since the patrons raised my wages for the second term two dollars per month.

My efforts in teaching school did not secure sufficient funds to enable me to remain at school away from home very long, and I determined to try another plan. My father had five yoke of oxen. I prevailed on him to lend them to me. I obtained a plough which cut a furrow eighteen to twenty inches wide, and with the oxen and plough I broke prairie for some months. I thereby secured sufficient money, with the additional sums which I made from the institution at Mount Morris at odd times, to enable me to remain at the Mount Morris Seminary for two years.

I never shall forget the journey from my home in Tazewell County to Mount Morris, when I first left home to enter the school. As it well illustrates the difficulties and hardships of travel in those early days in Illinois, I may be pardoned for giving it somewhat in detail.

It was in the Spring of the year. My father started with me on horseback from my home in Tazewell County to Peoria, a distance of fifteen miles. A sudden freeze had taken place after the frost had gone out of the ground, and this had caused an icy crust to form over the mud, but not of sufficient strength to bear the weight of a horse, whose hoofs would constantly break through. Whereupon I dismounted and told father that he had better take the horses back home, and that I would go to Peoria on foot, which I did.

The weather was cold, and I was certainly used up when I arrived in Peoria. I went to bed, departing early the following morning, by steamer, for Peru, a distance of twenty-five miles. From there I took the stage-coach to Dixon, a distance of twelve miles.

There came up another storm during the journey from Peru to Dixon, and the driver of the stage-coach lost his way and could not keep in the road. I ran along in front of the coach most of the way, in order to keep it in the road, the horses following me. From Dixon I crossed the river, proceeding to Mount Morris by private conveyance. I never had a more severe trip, and I felt its effects for very many years afterwards.

The days I spent in old Mount Morris Seminary were the pleasantest of my life. I was just at the age which might be termed the formative period of a young man's career. Had I been surrounded then by other companions, by other environment, my whole future might have been entirely different. Judged by the standard of the great Eastern institutions, Mount Morris was not even a third-class college; but it was a good school, attended by young men of an unusually high order. In those early days it was the leading institution of higher learning in Northern Illinois. I enjoyed Mount Morris, and the friendships formed there continued throughout my life.

I do not know whether I was a popular student or not, but I was president of the Amphictyon Society, and, according to the usual custom, was to deliver the address on retiring from the presidency. During the course of the address I fainted and was carried from the chapel, which was very hot and very crowded. I was rolled around in the snow a while and speedily revived. I was immediately asked to let one of the boys read the remainder of the address, but the heroic treatment to which I had been subjected stirred me to profane indifference respecting its fate. Later I was selected to deliver the valedictory. So I suppose I must have enjoyed a reasonable degree of popularity among my fellow students.

It was at Mount Morris that I first became intimate with the late Robert R. Hitt. He and his brother John, who recently died, were classmates of mine, their father being the resident Methodist preacher at Mount Morris. Robert R. Hitt remained my friend from our school days until his death. He was a candidate for the Senate against me at one time, but he was no politician, and I defeated him so easily that he could not harbor a bitter feeling against me. He was quite a character, and enjoyed a long and distinguished public career in Illinois. One of the early shorthand reporters of the State, the reporter of the Lincoln-Douglas debates, he became intimate with Lincoln, and Lincoln was very fond of him. He filled numerous important positions at home and abroad, and married a most beautiful lady, who still survives. He was later appointed Secretary of Legation at Paris.

Bob Hitt told me that he asked President Grant for the appointment, and the President at once said that he would give it to him. Washburne, who had been Secretary of State for a few days, and who was then minister at Paris, was much astonished when Hitt appeared and said that he had been appointed Secretary of Legation. Mr. Washburne denounced both President Grant and Secretary of State Fish for appointing anybody to fill such an intimate position without his consent.

Ambassadors and ministers, however, are not consulted as to who shall be appointed secretaries. These appointments are made by the President, by and with the advice and consent of the Senate; but Mr. Washburne, as usual, though that he was a bigger man than any one else, and that an exception should have been made in his case. But, when officially informed of the appointment, he submitted gracefully, and they got along together quite amicably. Strange to say, Hitt represented Washburne's old district in Congress for a number of years—many more years than Washburne himself represented it.

It was as a member of Congress that Mr. Hitt distinguished himself. He did what every man should do who expects to make a reputation as a national legislator; and that is to specialize, to become an expert in some particular branch. He was peculiarly fitted for foreign affairs. He was a man of education and culture, a student always, had served abroad for years, had mingled in the highest society, and it is not strange than in a comparatively few years he was recognized as the leading authority on all matters coming before the House pertaining to our foreign relations.

The Foreign Affairs Committee of the House is not nearly so important a committee as the Foreign Relations Committee of the Senate, and I may be pardoned for saying that I am chairman of the latter committee myself.

The reason is this: the Constitution provides that treaties shall be made only with the advice and consent of the Senate; hence it is that all such treaties, and consequently the foreign policy of the general Government, must pass the scrutiny of the Foreign Relations Committee of the Senate while the House and its committees have nothing whatever to do with them.

But nevertheless of all the