tender and as pure as ever animated the breast of man.

To

him I owe more than I can express. He was not only a friend, but a father. He taught me to believe that there is nothing impossible—nothing that a willing mind and active hand can not accomplish. I yet seem to hear his voice reproving me for saying 'I can not do it! Why don't you try,' he would say, and not stand there looking as if you were in a trance?"

6

The mother of Robert Smith was the daughter of David and Janet Steele. The family of that name had been somewhat distinguished in New Hampshire for the conspicuous part which several of its members had at different times borne in the public affairs. She had seven children, three daughters and four sons, of which latter Robert was the second. We will speak of him, in mere personal matters, as if he were himself addressing our readers. Thus:

"I was put to work very young-to such work as boys in New England usually do-driving the cows to and from pasture, running of errands, and waiting upon the men about the farm. One kind of service I well recollect-that was, riding horse to plow stony ground, and being thrown over the horse's head many times during the day by the plow striking a rock. I worked very steadily until sixteen years of age, going to a district school, in the winter, generally three months, working night and morning, taking care of the stock, and chopping wood to keep the fires. This last item, in a large, old-fashioned New England house, was no holiday sport. From fifteen to nineteen I took the entire charge of my father's farm, which was somewhat extensive. As early as the age of twelve to fourteen, I used to take three yoke of oxen, and a pair of horses on the lead, with a wood-sled, and go to the woods-a distance of a mile and a half-on the coldest days in winter, with snow three feet deep on the ground, and haul wood, having a man in the woods to chop and help load. At fourteen, 'solitary and alone,' I was sent, with a four-horse team, from Peterborough to Nashua and Boston, for large loads of cotton for the factory for which my father was agent. At eighteen I studied mathematics, a favorite branch of knowledge with me, under Daniel M. Christie, then a law-student in Peterborough. I believe I had credit for being as thorough in that branch as the majority of college graduates. This, with three months at the New Ips

wich Academy, under the superintendence of A. Eades, completed my education.

"While I was at this academy-being then nineteen years of age-application was made to Mr. Eades for a teacher for one of the district schools in Dublin, where his brother had been employed for a number of years. Mr. Eades recommended me to the district. The school continued three months, and, so far as I could learn, I gave entire satisfaction to parents and scholars. This I considered almost a miracle, as a large number of my pupils were greatly my seniors, and many of them really, in some branches, better scholars than myself.

"In the spring of 1822, after the close of my school, I went into the machine-shop of my uncle, Samuel Smith, of Peterborough, to learn the trade of building machinery for the manufacture of cotton cloth. In this employment I continued until the death, in October, of my eldest brother John, who, with Thomas Baker and John Cavender, had the previous year commenced the building of a cotton factory in Northfield, on the Winnipisiogee River, near the point where, uniting with the Pemigewasset, the two rivers form the Merrimack. Immediately after the death of my brother, his partners proposed that I should take his place in the firm, and accordingly, in November, 1822, at the age of twenty, I became a member of the company subsequently known as the Smithville Manufacturing Company. At this time we had a store at Salisbury Village. I remained in the store until the spring of 1823, when I went into the machine-shop again, and worked in that department until the machinery required for our purposes was built and put in operation. I then went into the manufacturing department, where I remained until I made myself acquainted with the entire process of converting the raw cotton into cloth. Soon after the factory was put into operation, we built a store in the immediate vicinity, and I then took the general superintendence both of the store and factory. I had here a good school in which to study human nature, and I learned much that has been useful to me in my subsequent intercourse with the world During the summer of 1824, I confined myself so closely to business that my health failed, and in October of that year I took passage from Boston in a merchant ship and went to Savannah. I made a short stay there, and then took a seven-by-nine steam

boat for Purysburg, on the Savannah River. Though the distance was less than thirty miles, we were nearly all day in 'making it.' From that place I traveled by land through the State of South Carolina to Augusta, Georgia, and after having remained there some weeks I went to Charleston, where I spent the residue of the winter.

"In the spring of 1825, my health having been perfectly restored, I returned home, and resumed my position in the firm. Society at Salisbury Village and Northfield was not at that time, perhaps, as refined as in some portions of New England. There existed a strong opposition to liberal preaching, and dancing was looked upon with holy horror. I had many wordy wars with some of the old citizens on these points, and may have been in some degree instrumental in producing a more tolerant religious feeling in the community, and in dispelling the bigoted prejudice against dancing.

"In 1826, our company found itself laboring under great disadvantages by reason of owning property and doing business in three towns, all within the distance of half a mile. This led to efforts to erect a new town out of the three and one other, namely, Salisbury, Andover, Northfield, and Sandborton. The members of the Legislature from all these towns were strongly opposed to the creation of a new one, as it would diminish the importance of their own. The first effort, made in 1826, was not successful. It was not, in all respects, judiciously directed In 1828 I thought I saw a fair opportunity to accomplish the object. The effort was again made, and I may say, without vanity, that my plan of operations secured a successful result. At no period of my life, perhaps, did I perform more severe la bor than during the struggle for the passage of an act creating the town of Franklin. All the towns out of which it was carved were Democratic. The members representing them were violently opposed to us, and brought party influence to bear against us. Thus thrown into collision, we were forced to oppose them, and we did so. Matters growing out of this controversy gov erned my votes while I resided there, and, consequently, I was classed by many of my friends as anti-Democratic. I have al ways claimed to be a Democrat, and have always advocated those measures which tended to give the largest liberty to the While I remained in Franklin, no man who had op

masses.

posed the creation of the town, or who was warmly the friend of those who did oppose it, was elected to the Legislature from that town. But, the year afterward, the tables were turned.

"In 1827 I went to Commencement at Hanover, and you may recollect to have heard me relate the incident which occurred with my cousin, Albert Smith, a former graduate, when, leaving me to take his place with his class in the procession, he expressed his regret that, being an entire stranger, I could not accompany him.

"Having first given a maturer aspect to my appearance by putting on a pair of double green spectacles, I took my place in the procession among strangers of distinction, and passed by my cousin, who stood with his hat under his arm, while I moved on to a distinguished seat in the hall. This was one of the few occasions of my life when impudence got the better of that extreme diffidence which you know to be natural to me.

"On that trip I went to Saratoga Springs and New York City, and was at Commencement at New Haven.

“During the same year I first met with the young lady who subsequently became my wife-Sarah Perkins Bingham, daughter of Vine Bingham, of Lempster, New Hampshire. She visited the factory in company with some other young ladies; I was introduced to her, and my destiny was at once decided. We were married in November, 1828. I have now living a son and a daughter.

"I had always felt a strong predilection for the South or West, and in 1830 I retired from the Smithville Manufac turing Company, preparatory to making arrangements for my emigration westward. I improved the time that elapsed between this decision and my departure in reading Blackstone's Commentaries, and other elementary works upon law, under the idea that possibly I might pursue the study of that profession with a view hereafter to its practice. In 1831 I made a journey to Michigan in company with my cousins James and J. A. Smith, of Cavendish, Vermont, James Walker, of Peterborough, and some four other gentlemen. We had a very pleasant trip, although attended by some hardships. Most of the country through which we passed was new, and the traveling very bad. After we left Ann Arbor, the country could hardly be said to be settled at all. We generally managed to find some

house or cabin to stop in over night. At Bronson, now the county seat of Kalamazoo county, we had great difficulty in getting our wagon over the Kalamazoo River, there being then no such thing as flat-boats in that region. We had to put our wagon into two dug-outs in order to cross. I purchased some lands at the land-sale at White Pigeon Prairie, at the first sale held there. I did not, however, like Michigan well enough to settle there; there was too much low, marshy ground to suit me; and before leaving that territory I determined to go to Illinois, believing then that it would be a more eligible state to settle in than Michigan. Besides, I preferred a more southern climate, and in April, 1832, I left with my wife, her mother, and brother for Illinois. At the time I left, very little was known in my section of country in relation to the West. My friends all remonstrated against our departure. They regarded that distant region as being out of the world—or, at any rate, out of civilization. Few of them ever expected to see us again; and very many never expected to hear from us, or of us, unless it was, perchance, to hear that we had been blown up by a steamboat, or tomahawked by the Indians. Our journey, however, was made without any accident, and we arrived in St. Louis in the latter part of June.

"After remaining there a week, we moved to Upper Alton, Illinois. We knew no one there, nor was there a single person within two hundred miles whom I had ever seen before. I had very little capital to begin with. The only tenement to be had at that time was a log house of one story and a half, containing only one room sixteen by twenty, and with openings between the logs large enough to throw a cat through. Lower Alton contained but few houses, and Upper Alton some ten or a dozen. I had carried with me a few goods, and I opened them in the old post-office building, my store being op posite to the only other one in the town, that of Messrs. Gilman and Long. I took no furniture with me. I found a few hickory-bottomed chairs at Lower Alton, which was the only furniture to be found in either of the two towns. We used two chairs and a box-lid as a table upon which to spread our meals until we got a carpenter to make us one, and this was the first table ever made in either Alton. St. Louis was then a small place, and business very flat there. I selected Alton