“Dan,” he said one evening, “you must be up early to-morrow.”
“Why, father?”
Daniel supposed he was to be set at some farm work.
“We are going to make a journey,” answered Judge Webster.
“A journey!” repeated the boy in surprise. “Where are we going?”
“I am going to take you to Exeter, to put you at school there.”
The boy listened with breathless interest and delight, mingled perhaps with a little apprehension, for he did not know he would succeed in the untried scenes which awaited him.
“Won’t it be expensive, father?” he asked after a pause, for he knew well his father’s circumstances, and was unusually considerate for a boy.
“Yes, my son, but I look to you to improve your time, so that I may find my investment a wise one.”
“How are we to go, father?”
“On horseback.”
Dan was a little puzzled, not knowing whether he and his father were to ride on one horse or not, as was a frequent custom at that time. It would have been hard upon any horse, for the judge was a man of weight, and the boy though light would have considerably increased the burden.
The next morning Daniel’s curiosity was gratified. In front of the farmhouse stood two horses, one belonging to his father, the other filled out with a side-saddle.
“Is that horse for me?” asked Daniel in surprise.
“Yes, my son.”
“What do I want of a side-saddle? I am not a lady.”
“Neighbor – is sending the horse to Exeter for the use of a lady who is to return here. I agreed to take charge of it, and it happens just right, as you can use it.”
“I don’t know how I can get along with it. It will look strange for me to be riding on a lady’s saddle.”
“If a lady can ride on it probably you can.”
So Dan and his father set out on their journey from the quiet country town to Exeter, the boy mounted on a lady’s horse. When in his later life he had occasion to refer to this journey, Mr. Webster recalled with great merriment the figure he must have cut as he rode meekly behind his father.
No doubt as they rode along father and son conversed together about the important step which had been taken. Judge Webster already had formed the plan of sending Daniel to college, after he should have completed a course of preparation at Exeter, but upon this part of his plan he did not think it best yet to speak to his son, very probably because he had not yet made up his mind as to whether his circumstances would allow him to incur so heavy an expense.
“My son,” said the father gravely, “I hope you will improve to the utmost the advantages I am securing for you. You must remember how much depends upon yourself. A boy’s future is largely in his own hands.”
“Yes, father, I will do the best I can.”
“Mr. Thompson thinks you can make a good scholar.”
“I will try, father.”
“I shall have no money to leave you, Daniel, but I hope to give you an education, which is better than a fortune.”
How would the father have been gratified if he could have foreseen the brilliant future in store for the boy of fourteen who was about to take his first important step in life.
CHAPTER V.
DANIEL AT EXETER ACADEMY
The principal of Exeter Academy at that time was Benjamin Abbot, LL.D., a man of high repute in letters as well as in the educational field. He was a man of dignified presence, who exacted and received deference not only from his pupils but from all with whom he came in contact.
“Dr. Abbot,” said Judge Webster, when the two were admitted to his presence, “I have brought my son Daniel to study in your institution, if you find him qualified.”
The dignified principal turned towards the bashful boy, and said, “What is your age, sir?”
“Fourteen,” answered Daniel.
“I will examine you first in reading. Take this Bible, my lad, and read that chapter.”
It was the twenty-second chapter of St. Luke’s Gospel, and was very well adapted as a test of the boy’s ability in reading.
Now if there was anything Dan could do well it was this. He never could remember the time when he could not read. Probably he had learned from his mother, and his first text-book was the Bible. He was endowed with reverence, and his grave, sonorous voice was especially well fitted for sacred reading.
The boy took the book and commenced the task prescribed. Usually a few verses are considered sufficient, but in this case the dignified listener became absorbed in the boy’s reading, and he listened, half forgetful of the object he had in view. It is a good deal to say that he actually enjoyed it. He had seldom listened to a voice at once so rich, deep and sonorous as belonged to this young boy of fourteen. Daniel, too, forgot that he was on trial, and read with his whole soul intent upon the words before him.
When he had completed the chapter Dr. Abbot said, abruptly, “You are qualified to enter this institution.”
This was all the examination which in his case was required.
It was no common school that Daniel had entered, as is shown by the list of eminent men who have gone forth from it. George Bancroft, Edward Everett, Alexander H. Everett, Lewis Cass, Levi Woodbury, John E. Palfrey and others received here the first rudiments of their classical education, and all of them looked back with affection to their Alma Mater. But without derogating from the fame of any of these eminent men, it may surely be said that in Daniel Webster not only Exeter but Dartmouth College boasts its greatest alumnus.
Daniel soon vindicated the good judgment of Dr. Abbot in admitting him as a pupil. As to the manner in which he improved the advantages which his father’s self-denial had secured to him, I quote the testimony of Dr. Tefft in his interesting life of Webster:
“During the nine months of his stay at Exeter he accomplished as much for himself, according to every account, as most young gentlemen could have accomplished in two years. When he left he had as thoroughly mastered grammar, arithmetic, geography and rhetoric, as the majority of college graduates usually have done after a full collegiate course. He had also made rapid progress in the study of the Latin language. Dr. Abbot, fully appreciating the capacity of his most remarkable pupil, did not tie him down to the ordinary routine of study, nor compel him to lag behind with the other pupils, but gave him free scope and a loose rein, that he might do his utmost; and the venerable preceptor, after the lapse of more than half a century, during all which time he continued to be a teacher, declared on a public occasion that Daniel Webster’s equal in the power of amassing knowledge he had never seen, and never expected to see again.
“It is not enough to say of him, according to Dr. Abbot’s description of him at this time, that he had a quick perception and a memory of great tenacity and strength. He did not seem barely to read and remember, as other people do. He appeared, rather, to grasp the thoughts and facts given by his author with a peculiar force, to incorporate them into his mental being, and thus make them a part of himself. It is said of Sir Isaac Newton, after reading for the first time the geometry of Euclid, and on being asked what he thought of it, that he knew it all before. He understood geometry, it seems, by intuition, or by a perception so rapid that it seems like intuition; but it was also true of the great astronomer that he had great difficulty in remembering even his own calculations after he had gone through