Garfield's new home was built of unhewn logs, notched and laid one upon another, to the height of twelve feet in front and eight feet behind. The spaces between the logs were filled with clay and mud, to keep out the wind and the rain. The roof was covered with boards, and the floor was made of logs, each split into two parts and laid the flat side up. A plank door and three small windows completed the primitive dwelling. There was but one large room on the ground floor, twenty by thirty feet, and a loft above, to which access was obtained by a ladder. In the loft were the straw beds on which the children slept. The land which the pioneers had bought was part of the forest, and was therefore covered with timber. This had to be cleared away before the land could be brought into cultivation. Much hard work and steady application were needed to accomplish this purpose. Abram Garfield was a strong, well-made man, who shrank from no labour, however hard, and boldly faced every difficulty with a stout heart and a determined will. Early and late he toiled on his farm, cheered by the presence of his wife and children, who were all the world to him. The trees fell before his axe, and ere long he had room to sow his first crop. With a thankful heart he saw the grain ripen, and his first harvest was safely gathered in before the winter storms came on. [Illustration: The trees fell before his axe.] In January 1830 he removed to his new home, and in November 1831 his fourth child was born. This baby boy received the name of James Abram Garfield. Little did the humble backwoodsman dream that the name he lovingly gave his child would one day be on the lips of millions of his fellow-countrymen; that it would rank with those of princes, kings, and emperors; and that it would be linked for ever with the history of the United States of America. CHAPTER III. A FIRE IN THE FOREST. The Effects of Prairie Fires--How Abram Garfield saved his Crops--The sudden Illness and Death of Abram Garfield--The Grave to the corner of the Wheatfield. One of General Sherman's veteran soldiers was once describing a prairie fire. When he had finished his story, he raised himself to his full six feet height, and with flashing eyes said, "If I should ever catch a man firing a prairie or a forest, as God helps me, I would shoot him down in his deed." No wonder that the old soldier was fired with indignation when he thought of the terrible consequences which often resulted from such thoughtless or wanton proceedings. The loss to settlers is often appalling. The prairies, which in the day-time seem dry, dull, and uninteresting, give place at night to the lurid play of the fire fiend, and the heavens and horizon seem like a furnace. It is a grand, yet awful sight. Cheeks blanch as the wind sweeps its volume towards the observer, or across his track.