we were green together. The harvesting of this corn crop was a 

 splendid object lesson to us in the management of men and teams 

 and in the selection of seed, but I think it also opened his eyes to 

 some things. 



I next remember him taking a class into the hay field to learn how 

 to make hay, to run a mowing machine and to use the scythe in 

 trimming out. Some of us knew how to do it, for we had come from 

 the hay field, but there were some from the city who had never seen 

 a scythe — at least, had never swung one. When Herrick, a beam- 

 ing boy from the city of Lawrence, looking through big, round, rim- 

 less glasses, started in with his scythe, everybody else fled for fear of 

 accident. Stockbridge said, " Keep your heel down, Herrick ! " and 

 Herrick, not knowing what he meant, plunged away, stamping his 

 heel into the wet soil and running the point of his scythe into the 

 ground, the rest of us laughing at him. Finally, " Old Prof," with 

 infinite patience, stepped up to him and said, " Young man, it is not 

 the heel of your boot, but the shank or the heel of the scythe which 

 you must keep to the ground if you would cut a swath in this life." 

 Young Herrick was cut off by the great reaper too early to demon- 

 strate the teachings of Stockbridge. 



The next time I remember him as standing out prominently, to us 

 at least, was in the fall of '68, when Grant was first elected to the 

 presidency of the United States. When the news of the election 

 came to town, a glorification meeting was held to celebrate the vic- 

 tory. All the students of both colleges, of whatever political faith, 

 joined in a procession and marched around to the professors' houses, 

 both of the old and the new college, calling each man out for a 

 speech. We began down town, and were first addressed by Presi- 

 dent Stearns, Professors Seelye, Tyler and I think by dear old Pro- 

 fessor Snell, one of the sunniest men I ever met ; then up to Presi- 

 dent Clark's house, where he gave us a rousing reception and a good 

 speech. Finally, we lined up in front of " Prof. Stock's " house. 

 Stockbridge expected us, and evidently had been preparing some- 

 thing for us. I can see him now, coming down the rickety stairs of 

 his little old woodshed office and deliberately walking up to the door- 

 step in front of the house. I cannot recall his language, but I re- 

 member his eulogy of Lincoln, and then of Grant, who had been 

 Lincoln's mainstay, closing with a splendid outline of the future for 

 " us boys," as he called us, who were then coming on the stage, with 



