Chapter 13

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.

MY DESK MY DESK Made and used at the Wisconsin State UniversityToList

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_ToC

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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