of his pupils were older than himself, and some of them belonged to that rough element so common in new settlements. They gloried in rowdyism, and boasted that they had often had three or four teachers during the winter. With some heroic treatment he went through the entire time for which he was hired, the last weeks being the best part of his work, and what was still better, he was not disgusted with teaching. When he was eighteen he arranged to go down the Alleghany River with the lumbermen to Cincinnati. This would give him an opportunity to see the world and earn some money for books and study. Many an air-castle was built on this plan, even to his going as far as New Orleans. His brother, Judge Allen, writes that his mother could not give her consent to this, so he gave up this fairy dream and went back for the spring to the old sugar-camp and humdrum life he knew so well. He had books now, and every leisure hour was devoted to reading and study. He was never satisfied till he had mastered a subject, not as mere knowledge, but as something to be a part of himself.

PUBLIC EXHIBITION.

The school closed with a public examination of each class, and was followed by speaking, reading, and dialogues, in which most of the pupils took part. At the close of the spring term of 1841 Mrs. Susan Spicer writes:

"The house was crowded. The interest of the evening centered in a dramatic scene in which Jonathan Allen, then a leading student in the academy, bore a conspicuous part. The engrossing subject throughout the North was the slavery question. Professor Kenyon was a man of uncompromising antislavery sentiment. The recapture of slaves was then a comoccurrence in the North, and a case of that kind had recently occurred, accompanied with more than the usual atrocities. Young Allen, then eighteen, proposed to the students to reproduce that scene at this school exhibition by an original dialogue. Mr. Allen represented the good Quaker who had befriended, housed, and fed the fleeing fugitives, and proposed to forward them on to Canada. The fugitives were represented

by students in tattered garments with blackened faces and hands, while others represented the pursuing slaveholders, officers, and assisting citizens. The slaves were seized at the home of the good Quaker. A neighbor suggested that the cursed Quaker be ridden on a rail, tarred, and feathered, which they proceeded to do. Mr. Allen was entirely submissive, but talked to them plainly of the cruel inhumanity of their system of slavery, sharply denouncing their brutal practices, then, finally raising his voice in cutting rebuke, he reached a climax unanticipated even by himself. In impassioned, eloquent terms he told them that their acts would react against them; that, instead of suppressing the antislavery sentiments, they would intensify and extend them; that every abuse of this kind would raise. up for them one hundred more friends; that in a little time the pen, the press, and all the better elements of the North would array themselves against them. Then he made the following statements: 'God will not permit such an institution to exist in America much longer. Even now I seem to hear its death knell. God's repressing hand is laid upon you. The days of slavery are already numbered, though it will die only after a hard struggle. It will die only after a baptism of our whole country in blood. Twenty years from now an antislavery President will be elected. You of the South will rebel and endeavor to establish a slaveholder's oligarchy. The North will not submit to the dissolution of these States, and a fearful carnage will follow. Slavery will be abolished, and God will preserve the nation. May God be merciful to the people. God save the poor and oppressed.' The interest in the narrative centers in the mystery of young Allen's prophesying coming events so definitely."

At the first meeting in Chapel Hall in 1861 to consider the call of the government for volunteers to meet the new emergency, in which Professor Allen took a leading part, the writer of these pages rehearsed the forecast of twenty years previous, and the narrative acted like magic. Professor Allen then looked back upon that impromptu forecast as inexplicable except as it was born of faith.

T

CHAPTER IV.

PIONEER LIFE IN WISCONSIN.

EACHING in winter, going to school whenever possible, and working on the farm, filled up the next year, when the family decided to go to Wisconsin-a section just opened to settlers.

My first memory of Jonathan Allen was in the spring term of 1842. My sister, Harriet Maxson, five years my senior, and myself were living at Mr. Irish's, who one day said, "I have just told Abram Allen that if he takes his son Jonathan to Wisconsin, he will become its governor." "Not one of my boys," said Mr. Allen. "That one has a two-story head, I said," remarked Mr. Irish. There was to be recitations that afternoon, so I asked my sister if she knew the governor. "Why, yes." "Show him to me." During that afternoon, when a tall, diffident young man came upon came upon the stage, she whispered, "There is the governor." No doubt lacking confidence, he was not quite a silly girl's idea of that great dignitary. He was then nineteen, and in a few weeks went West with his family, where his father and mother had hoped to have the children all around them in their declining years.

Uncle Ethan Burdick was already in Milton, Wisconsin, while Uncle George, with several other families, accompanied ours on the journey there. Deacon L. Allen says of this time: "The three families numbered twenty-four souls, all to be housed in a building twenty-four by eighteen, while the new houses were being built; but it was in summer time; the sweet hay made nice beds for us boys, while the chamber floor was at night covered with beds for the little ones." Here Jonathan worked on the farm, did surveying in the summers, and taught

school for two winters. Walking five miles across the prairie to his school one morning in the face of a terrible blizzard, he found when reaching the schoolhouse that breathing was almost impossible. The effect of this lasted all winter. No doubt that terrible experience weakened the valves of the heart and laid the foundation of his heart disease. Nature had built him with a wonderfully strong body, and healthful exercise, with plain food, gave him almost a giant's strength.

Much of the land in that section belonged to "Uncle Sam," he giving to all who would make homes upon it a farm for the small sum of $1.25 per acre. Soil was so rich that it yielded immense crops, with very little cultivation. Deer and wild fowl were plentiful, and the streams teemed with fish. Going down. to Rock River with his brothers one winter's day, they made a hole in the ice to fish through, but the fish came up in such quantities that they threw away their hooks and gathered them in by the basketful. When they had secured several barrels of these great salmon, they drove home, giving liberally to their neighbors, and having sufficient for themselves for the whole

season.

DECIDED FOR AN EDUCATION.

Being now twenty-one years of age, Allen found himself with money enough to take up a quarter section of land in the spring of 1844. This his father and mother felt very anxious for him to do. He started one morning for the land office at. Milwaukee some fifty miles away, walking all the long daythinking, thinking-his steps growing slower and slower as he walked on. He knew that if he should take up the land he must give up all that he held most dear-and for what?—a mess of pottage. Should he starve his soul for a little of this world's goods? He could not do it, but he would not be rash. He stopped for the night outside the city at a farmhouse, where he slept and dreamed over the matter. Before morning the decision was made. That money would take him to school at Alfred; strong arms would do the rest. The die was cast. He had turned his back upon wealth. He walked; he ran; and,

reaching home, said, "I must have an education; I have the money and must go back to Alfred." No objection was raised, but all the help possible from the loving hearts of father, mother, brothers, and sisters was given. It was hardest to part from the little sisters, then just blooming into young womanhood; but he would make a way for them, which he afterwards did. The first boat of spring, coming down the lakes, through rough waves, and storm and sleet, bore a happy young man back, not only to his childhood's home, but to the means of intellectual and spiritual growth. His former teacher, Professor Kenyon, Uncle John, Aunt Katie, and many of the old friends warmly welcomed him. Securing a little attic where he could be alone for study, he boarded himself, usually cooking his own food. He worked during the recess hours and vacations, besides doing many extra things for a paralyzed uncle in whose house he lived. Thus began his life work.

TEACHERS AT ALFRED.

He found associated with his model teacher, Professor Wm. C. Kenyon, Mrs. Melissa Ward Kenyon, in the primary branches, John D. Collins, in Latin, and Gordon Evans in mathematics, Miss Caroline B. Maxson as preceptress and teacher in modern languages and drawing. Of Mrs. Kenyon he writes later: "As a teacher she was frank, sincere, cordial, quick to appreciate effort, slow to give over the dull, ever the friend of the diffident and uncultured. The poor and needy student knew that in her a friend could always be found."

Of Miss Caroline B. Maxson he writes: "Among the few individuals who gave life and character to this institution was our preceptress. Fitted by nature and culture for the position, she became a living force in the school. With a high range of mental grasp and sweep, with a comprehension of the subject to be taught, clear and direct as light, with a self-poise that no rudeness could jostle, mild, calm, serene, she gave a helpful hand to the diffident and the discouraged, and with winsome words helped them, inspired them.”