The Story of My Boyhood and Youth
J >> John Muir >> The Story of My Boyhood and YouthWith fear and trembling, overladen with ignorance, I called on
Professor Stirling, the Dean of the Faculty, who was then Acting
President, presented my case, and told him how far I had got on with
my studies at home, and that I hadn't been to school since leaving
Scotland at the age of eleven years, excepting one short term of a
couple of months at a district school, because I could not be spared
from the farm work. After hearing my story, the kind professor
welcomed me to the glorious University--next, it seemed to me, to the
Kingdom of Heaven. After a few weeks in the preparatory department I
entered the Freshman class. In Latin I found that one of the books in
use I had already studied in Scotland. So, after an interruption of a
dozen years, I began my Latin over again where I had left off; and,
strange to say, most of it came back to me, especially the grammar
which I had committed to memory at the Dunbar Grammar School.
During the four years that I was in the University, I earned enough in
the harvest-fields during the long summer vacations to carry me
through the balance of each year, working very hard, cutting with a
cradle four acres of wheat a day, and helping to put it in the shock.
But, having to buy books and paying, I think, thirty-two dollars a
year for instruction, and occasionally buying acids and retorts, glass
tubing, bell-glasses, flasks, etc., I had to cut down expenses for
board now and then to half a dollar a week.
One winter I taught school ten miles south of Madison, earning
much-needed money at the rate of twenty dollars a month, "boarding
round," and keeping up my University work by studying at night. As I
was not then well enough off to own a watch, I used one of my hickory
clocks, not only for keeping time, but for starting the school fire in
the cold mornings, and regulating class-times. I carried it out on my
shoulder to the old log schoolhouse, and set it to work on a little
shelf nailed to one of the knotty, bulging logs. The winter was very
cold, and I had to go to the schoolhouse and start the fire about
eight o'clock to warm it before the arrival of the scholars. This was
a rather trying job, and one that my clock might easily be made to do.
Therefore, after supper one evening I told the head of the family with
whom I was boarding that if he would give me a candle I would go back
to the schoolhouse and make arrangements for lighting the fire at
eight o'clock, without my having to be present until time to open the
school at nine. He said, "Oh! young man, you have some curious things
in the school-room, but I don't think you can do that." I said, "Oh,
yes! It's easy," and in hardly more than an hour the simple job was
completed. I had only to place a teaspoonful of powdered chlorate of
potash and sugar on the stove-hearth near a few shavings and kindling,
and at the required time make the clock, through a simple arrangement,
touch the inflammable mixture with a drop of sulphuric acid. Every
evening after school was dismissed, I shoveled out what was left of
the fire into the snow, put in a little kindling, filled up the big
box stove with heavy oak wood, placed the lighting arrangement on the
hearth, and set the clock to drop the acid at the hour of eight; all
this requiring only a few minutes.
The first morning after I had made this simple arrangement I invited
the doubting farmer to watch the old squat schoolhouse from a window
that overlooked it, to see if a good smoke did not rise from the
stovepipe. Sure enough, on the minute, he saw a tall column curling
gracefully up through the frosty air, but instead of congratulating me
on my success he solemnly shook his head and said in a hollow,
lugubrious voice, "Young man, you will be setting fire to the
schoolhouse." All winter long that faithful clock fire never failed,
and by the time I got to the schoolhouse the stove was usually
red-hot.
At the beginning of the long summer vacations I returned to the
Hickory Hill farm to earn the means in the harvest-fields to continue
my University course, walking all the way to save railroad fares. And
although I cradled four acres of wheat a day, I made the long, hard,
sweaty day's work still longer and harder by keeping up my study of
plants. At the noon hour I collected a large handful, put them in
water to keep them fresh, and after supper got to work on them and sat
up till after midnight, analyzing and classifying, thus leaving only
four hours for sleep; and by the end of the first year, after taking
up botany, I knew the principal flowering plants of the region.
I received my first lesson in botany from a student by the name of
Griswold, who is now County Judge of the County of Waukesha,
Wisconsin. In the University he was often laughed at on account of his
anxiety to instruct others, and his frequently saying with fine
emphasis, "Imparting instruction is my greatest enjoyment." One
memorable day in June, when I was standing on the stone steps of the
north dormitory, Mr. Griswold joined me and at once began to teach. He
reached up, plucked a flower from an overspreading branch of a locust
tree, and, handing it to me, said, "Muir, do you know what family this
tree belongs to?"
"No," I said, "I don't know anything about botany."
"Well, no matter," said he, "what is it like?"
"It's like a pea flower," I replied.
"That's right. You're right," he said, "it belongs to the Pea Family."
"But how can that be," I objected, "when the pea is a weak, clinging,
straggling herb, and the locust a big, thorny hardwood tree?"
"Yes, that is true," he replied, "as to the difference in size, but it
is also true that in all their essential characters they are alike,
and therefore they must belong to one and the same family. Just look
at the peculiar form of the locust flower; you see that the upper
petal, called the banner, is broad and erect, and so is the upper
petal of the pea flower; the two lower petals, called the wings, are
outspread and wing-shaped; so are those of the pea; and the two petals
below the wings are united on their edges, curve upward, and form what
is called the keel, and so you see are the corresponding petals of the
pea flower. And now look at the stamens and pistils. You see that nine
of the ten stamens have their filaments united into a sheath around
the pistil, but the tenth stamen has its filament free. These are very
marked characters, are they not? And, strange to say, you will find
them the same in the tree and in the vine. Now look at the ovules or
seeds of the locust, and you will see that they are arranged in a pod
or legume like those of the pea. And look at the leaves. You see the
leaf of the locust is made up of several leaflets, and so also is the
leaf of the pea. Now taste the locust leaf."
I did so and found that it tasted like the leaf of the pea. Nature has
used the same seasoning for both, though one is a straggling vine, the
other a big tree.
"Now, surely you cannot imagine that all these similar characters are
mere coincidences. Do they not rather go to show that the Creator in
making the pea vine and locust tree had the same idea in mind, and
that plants are not classified arbitrarily? Man has nothing to do with
their classification. Nature has attended to all that, giving
essential unity with boundless variety, so that the botanist has only
to examine plants to learn the harmony of their relations."
This fine lesson charmed me and sent me to the woods and meadows in
wild enthusiasm. Like everybody else I was always fond of flowers,
attracted by their external beauty and purity. Now my eyes were opened
to their inner beauty, all alike revealing glorious traces of the
thoughts of God, and leading on and on into the infinite cosmos. I
wandered away at every opportunity, making long excursions round the
lakes, gathering specimens and keeping them fresh in a bucket in my
room to study at night after my regular class tasks were learned; for
my eyes never closed on the plant glory I had seen.
Nevertheless, I still indulged my love of mechanical inventions. I
invented a desk in which the books I had to study were arranged in
order at the beginning of each term. I also made a bed which set me on
my feet every morning at the hour determined on, and in dark winter
mornings just as the bed set me on the floor it lighted a lamp. Then,
after the minutes allowed for dressing had elapsed, a click was heard
and the first book to be studied was pushed up from a rack below the
top of the desk, thrown open, and allowed to remain there the number
of minutes required. Then the machinery closed the book and allowed it
to drop back into its stall, then moved the rack forward and threw up
the next in order, and so on, all the day being divided according to
the times of recitation, and time required and allotted to each study.
Besides this, I thought it would be a fine thing in the summer-time
when the sun rose early, to dispense with the clock-controlled bed
machinery, and make use of sunbeams instead. This I did simply by
taking a lens out of my small spy-glass, fixing it on a frame on the
sill of my bedroom window, and pointing it to the sunrise; the
sunbeams focused on a thread burned it through, allowing the bed
machinery to put me on my feet. When I wished to arise at any given
time after sunrise, I had only to turn the pivoted frame that held the
lens the requisite number of degrees or minutes. Thus I took Emerson's
advice and hitched my dumping-wagon bed to a star.
[Illustration: MY DESK
Made and used at the Wisconsin State University]
I also invented a machine to make visible the growth of plants and the
action of the sunlight, a very delicate contrivance, enclosed in
glass. Besides this I invented a barometer and a lot of novel
scientific apparatus. My room was regarded as a sort of show place by
the professors, who oftentimes brought visitors to it on Saturdays and
holidays. And when, some eighteen years after I had left the
University, I was sauntering over the campus in time of vacation, and
spoke to a man who seemed to be taking some charge of the grounds, he
informed me that he was the janitor; and when I inquired what had
become of Pat, the janitor in my time, and a favorite with the
students, he replied that Pat was still alive and well, but now too
old to do much work. And when I pointed to the dormitory room that I
long ago occupied, he said: "Oh! then I know who you are," and
mentioned my name. "How comes it that you know my name?" I inquired.
He explained that "Pat always pointed out that room to newcomers and
told long stories about the wonders that used to be in it." So long
had the memory of my little inventions survived.
Although I was four years at the University, I did not take the
regular course of studies, but instead picked out what I thought would
be most useful to me, particularly chemistry, which opened a new
world, and mathematics and physics, a little Greek and Latin, botany
and geology. I was far from satisfied with what I had learned, and
should have stayed longer. Anyhow I wandered away on a glorious
botanical and geological excursion, which has lasted nearly fifty
years and is not yet completed, always happy and free, poor and rich,
without thought of a diploma or of making a name, urged on and on
through endless, inspiring, Godful beauty.
From the top of a hill on the north side of Lake Mendota I gained a
last wistful, lingering view of the beautiful University grounds and
buildings where I had spent so many hungry and happy and hopeful days.
There with streaming eyes I bade my blessed Alma Mater farewell. But
I was only leaving one University for another, the Wisconsin
University for the University of the Wilderness.
THE END
_Index_
America,
early interest in, 51-53;
emigration to, 53-59.
Anderson, Mr., 216, 217.
_Anemone patens_ var. _Nuttalliana_, 119-121.
Animals,
man's tyranny over, 83, 84, 109, 110, 181;
accidents to, 133-136;
the taming of, 185, 186;
cleanliness, 187, 188;
endurance of cold, 189, 190.
Apples, wild, 124.
Audubon, John James, on the passenger pigeon, 52, 53, 162-166.
Aurora borealis, 205, 206.
Badgers, 183.
Bathing, 16, 17;
of animals, 187, 188;
of man, 188, 189.
_See also_ Swimming.
Bear, black, 171, 183, 184.
Bees, 234-239.
Beetle, whirligig, 114.
Berries, 122, 123.
Bible, the, 242-244.
Birds,
removing their eggs, 64, 65;
met with in Wisconsin, 64-75, 137-167;
accidents to, 131-135;
bathing, 187, 188.
Birds'-nesting, 27, 28, 44-48.
Blackbird,
red-winged, 142, 143;
hunting, 175.
Blacksmith,
the minister, 108;
his cruelty to his brother, 214-217.
Bluebird,
nest, 62, 139;
a favorite, 138, 139.
Boat, 115.
Boatmen (insects), 115.
Bobolink, 140, 141.
Bob-white, or quail,
accidents to, 133-135;
habits, 151, 152.
Books, 241-245.
Botany, first lessons in, 280-283.
Boys, savagery of, 23-26.
Brush fires, 76, 77.
Bull-bat, or nighthawk, 69-71.
Bullfrogs, 74.
Butterfly-weed, 122.
Cats,
a boy's cruel prank, 23-26;
a cat with kittens, 77, 78;
old Tom and the loon, 155-158.
Charlie, the feeble-minded man, 214-217.
Chickadee, 143, 144.
Chickens, prairie, 145, 146.
Chipmunk, 193, 194.
Choke-damp, 232, 233.
Chores, 202-204.
_Christian Philosopher_, _The_, by Thomas Dick, 242.
Clocks, 252-258.
Clover, 199, 200.
Combe's Physiology, 188.
Consumption, 212, 213.
Coons, 170, 184, 185.
Copperhead, 110, 111.
Corn, husking, 105, 106.
Cows, sympathy with, 94.
Crane, sandhill, 68, 97.
Crops, Wisconsin, 199, 200.
Cypripedium, 121, 122.
Dandy Doctor terror, the, 6-9.
Davel Brae, 28-30.
Deer, 169-174.
Desk, a student's, 283, 284.
Dick, Thomas, his _Christian Philosopher_, 242.
Dog, Watch, the mongrel, 77-83.
Duck, wood, 147, 148.
Ducks, wild, 147, 148.
Dunbar, Scotland,
a boyhood in, 1-55;
later visit to, 37, 38.
Dunbar Castle, 17.
Duncan, William, 233.
Eagle, bald, and fish hawk, 51, 52.
Early-rising machine, 252-256, 284.
Ferns, 122.
Fiddler, story of a Scotch, 130, 131.
Fighting, boys', 28-30, 33-37.
Fireflies, 71, 72.
Fires,
brush, 76, 77;
household, 204;
grass, 230;
lighting the schoolhouse fire, 277-279.
Fishes, 115-117.
Fishing, 116, 117.
Flicker, 66.
Flowers,
at Dunbar, 12-14;
wild, in Wisconsin, 118-122.
Food question, the, 241-244.
Fountain Lake, 62, 115-118, 124-129.
Fountain Lake Meadow, 62, 71.
Fox River, 123, 141, 147.
Foxes, 182, 183.
Frogs, love-songs of, 74.
Fuller, 129.
Ghosts, 18, 19.
Gilrye, Grandfather, 2-4, 43, 54, 55.
Glow-worms, 72.
Goose, Canada, 149-151.
Gophers, 194-198.
Grandfather. _See_ Gilrye, Grandfather.
Gray, Alexander, 60, 61.
Green Lake, 103, 104.
Griswold, Judge, 280-282.
Grouse, ruffed, or partridge, drumming, 72.
Grubs, 229.
Half-witted man, 214-217.
Hare, Dr., 7.
Hares, 181, 182.
Hawk, fish, and bald eagle, 51, 52.
Hawks, 66, 177.
Hell, warnings as to, 76, 77.
Hen-hawk, 66.
Hickory, 123.
Hickory Hill,
purchase and development of the farm, 226-234;
life at, 234-263;
vacation work at, 279.
Holabird, Mr., 148.
Holidays, 174.
Honey-bees, 234-239.
Horses,
the pony Jack, 95-102;
Nob and Nell, 103-105, 107-109.
Hunt, the side, 168, 169.
Hunting expeditions, 171.
Hyla, 75.
Ice, whooping of, 207, 208.
Ice-storm, 206, 207.
"Inchcape Bell, The," 5, 6.
Indian moccasins (flowers), 121, 122.
Indians,
hunting muskrats, 81, 82;
killing pigs, 88, 89;
stealing a horse, 103-105;
getting ducks and wild rice, 147;
hunting coons and deer, 170;
fond of muskrat flesh, 180;
rights of, 218-220.
Industry, excessive, 222-226.
Insects, 113-115.
Inventions,
on the farm, 248-261;
introduced to the world, 260-272;
the clock fire, 277-279;
at the University, 283-286.
Jack, the pony, 95-102.
Jay, blue, nest, 62-65.
Kettle-holes, 98.
Kingbird, 66, 67.
Kingston, Wis., 59-61.
Lady's-slippers, 121, 122.
Lake Mendota, 129.
Landlord, a friendly, 264, 265.
Lark. _See_ Skylark.
Lauderdale, Lord, his gardens, 2.
Lawson, Peter, 13, 14.
Lawson boys, 126, 127, 175.
Lightning-bugs, 71, 72.
_Lilium superbum_, 122.
Linnet, red-headed, 187, 188.
"Llewellyn's Dog," 4, 5.
Locomotive, riding on a, 267-269.
Loon, 153-158.
Lyon, Mr., teacher, 30, 37.
_Maccoulough's Course of Reading_, 51.
McRath, Mr., 184, 185.
Madison, Wis.,
State Fair at, 260, 261, 269-272;
life in, 273-287.
Mair, George, 218, 219.
Mallard, 147.
Marmot, mountain, 186.
Meadowlark, 143.
Meals, 42, 43;
the Scotch religious view of, 249, 250.
Melons, 200.
Minister, the blacksmith, 108;
his cruelty to his brother, 214-217.
Moccasins, Indian, 121, 122.
Mosquitoes, 113, 114.
Mouse, European field, with young, 3.
Mouse,
meadow, _or_ field, 106, 107;
eaten by a horse, 107.
Muir, Anna, 56.
Muir, Anne (Gilrye) (mother), 11, 15, 16, 20, 22, 23, 28, 49, 256,
259, 260, 263.
Muir, Daniel (brother), 56, 115, 146, 223.
Muir, Daniel (father), 10, 11, 24, 31, 43, 44, 49, 53-56, 58-61, 83,
90, 94-96, 100-102, 115, 148, 191, 195, 203, 205, 218, 222, 224,
226, 231-234;
admonitions, 76, 77;
Scotch correction, 84-87;
as a church-goer, 107, 108;
his advice as to swimming, 124;
his ideas about books and the Bible, 241-244;
rules as to going to bed and getting up, 245-251;
his religious view of meals, 249, 250;
and his son's inventions, 253-258;
his parting advice to his son, 262;
theories on bringing up children, 263.
Muir, David, 11, 20-22, 43, 53, 54, 56, 62, 78, 85-87, 97, 110, 115,
125, 126, 223, 231, 263, 264;
kills a deer, 172-174.
Muir, John,
fondness for the wild, 1, 49, 50;
earliest recollections, 1-3;
first school, 3-10, 28-30;
favorite stories in reading-book, 4-6;
favorite hymns and songs, 9, 10;
early fondness for flowers, 12-14;
an early accident, 15, 16;
bathing, 16, 17;
boyish sports, 17-26, 40, 41;
grammar school, 30-39;
birds'-nesting, 44-48;
early interest in America, 51-53;
emigration to America, 53-59;
settling in Wisconsin, 58-62;
life on the Fountain Lake farm, 62-226;
escaping a whipping, 84-87;
learning to ride, 95-100;
learning to swim, 124-129;
ambition in mowing and cradling, 202, 223;
put to the plough, 220, 221;
hard work, 221-224;
running the breaking plough, 227-229;
life at Hickory Hill, 230-263;
adventure in digging a well, 231-234;
educating himself, 240-247;
early rising proves a way out of difficulties, 245-251;
inventions, 248-261;
deciding on an occupation, 259-261;
determines to take his inventions to the State Fair, 260-262;
starting out into the world, 262-269;
at the State Fair, 269-272;
enters a machine-shop at Prairie du Chien, 272, 273;
odd jobs at Madison, 273, 274;
enters the University, 274-276;
life at the University, 276-287;
teaching school, 277-279;
vacation work at Hickory Hill, 279;
first lessons in botany, 280-283;
more inventions, 283-286;
enters the University of the Wilderness, 286, 287.
Muir, Margaret, 56, 253.
Muir, Mary, 56.
Muir, Sarah, 15, 56, 127.
Muir's Lake. _See_ Fountain Lake.
Muskrats,
an Indian hunting, 81, 82;
habits, 177-181.
Nighthawk, 69-71.
Nob and Nell, the horses, 103-105, 107-109.
Nuthatches, 144, 145.
Nuts, 123, 124.
Oriole, Baltimore, 143.
Owls, 145.
Oxen, humanity in, 90-94.
Pardeeville, Wis., 263-266.
Partridge, _or_ ruffed grouse, drumming, 72.
Pasque-flower, 119-121.
Phrenology, 266.
Pickerel, 116, 117.
Pigeon, passenger,
Audubon's account, 52, 53, 162-166;
extermination, 83;
in Wisconsin, 158-162;
Pokagon's account, 166, 167.
Ploughing, 201, 202, 220, 221;
the breaking plough, 227-229.
Plutarch's Lives, 241, 242.
Pokagon, his account of the passenger pigeon, 166, 167.
Portage, Wis., 93, 94, 108.
Prairie chickens, 145, 146.
Prairie du Chien, 272, 273.
Pucaway Lake, 147.
Quail. _See_ Bob-white.
Rabbits, 181, 189.
Raccoon, 170, 184, 185.
Rails, splitting, 221, 222.
Rattlesnakes, 110.
Reid, Mr., 213, 214.
Ridgway, Robert, 64.
Road-making, 209.
Robin, American, 139.
Robin, European, 27, 28.
Scootchers, 20-22.
Scotch, the, their ideas of self-punishment, 130, 131.
Scotch, the language, 57.
Scottish Grays, 27.
Self-punishment, 130, 131.
Settlers in Wisconsin, 211-220, 222-226.
Shrike, a burglarious, 195-198.
Siddons, Mungo, 8, 9, 12, 30.
Skaters (insects), 115.
Skylark, 46-48.
Snake, blow, 111.
Snakes, 110-112.
Snipe, a case of difficult parturition, 134.
Snipe, jack, 73.
Snowstorms, 206.
Southey, Robert, his "Inchcape Bell," 5, 6.
Sow, the old, 88, 89.
Sparrow, song, 143.
Spermophile, _or_ ground squirrel, a frozen, 135, 136.
Spirit-rappings, 210, 211.
Squirrel, flying, 192.
Squirrel, gray, 190-192.
Squirrel, ground. _See_ Gophers _and_ Spermophile.
State Fair, 260, 261, 269-272.
Stirling, Professor, 275, 276.
Strawberries, wild, 122.
Sunfish, 116.
Swamps, 208, 209.
Swans, wild, 149.
Swimming, 124-129.
Tanager, scarlet, 143.
Thermometer, a large, 258, 259.
Thrasher, brown, 139, 140.
Thrush, brown. _See_ Thrasher.
Thunder-storms, 75, 76.
Trap, the steel, 180.
Tuberculosis, 212, 213.
Turk's-turban, 122.
Turtle, snapping, 80.
Vaccination, 11.
Water-boatmen, 115.
Water-bugs, 114.
Water-lily, 118, 119.
Well, digging a, 231-234.
Whippings, 84-87.
Whip-poor-will, 68, 69.
Wiard, an inventor, 272, 273.
Wilson, Alexander, account of fish hawk and bald eagle, 51, 52.
Wind-flower, 119-121.
Wisconsin, settling in, 58-62;
life in, 62-287.
Woodpecker, red-headed, 66;
drowning, 131-133;
shot and resurrected, 175, 176.
Woodpeckers, nest-holes and young, 65, 66.
Wrecks, 38, 39.
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