Daniel’s family had not lived many years at Elms Farm. Captain Webster first occupied a log house which he had himself built, and in this humble dwelling Ezekiel and one of his sisters were born. He was poor in worldly goods, but rich in children, having had ten born to him, five by the second marriage. Daniel was the youngest but one, and Sarah the youngest of all.

When the war of the American Revolution broke out Daniel’s father was one of the first to take up arms. He himself drew up, and induced eighty-four of his townsmen to sign, the following patriotic pledge:

“We do solemnly engage and promise that we will, to the utmost of our power, at the risk of our lives and fortunes, with arms, oppose the hostile proceedings of the British fleets and armies against the United American Colonies.”

Daniel was proud of his descent from such a man, and in the last year of his life declared that “this is sufficient emblazonry for my arms; enough of heraldry for me.”

Ebenezer Webster, Daniel’s father, is described as “a man of great firmness, whose bearing and manner were decisive; tall and erect, with a full chest, black hair and eyes, and rather large and prominent features.” He had never attended school, but his natural powers, supplemented by his own persistent efforts for education, qualified him for a high and influential place in the community in which he lived. But in one thing he was lacking, the ability to make money, and was obliged to practise the utmost frugality in his household. Though he filled various important positions, his compensation was of the smallest. He charged the town for important services but three or four shillings a day—a sum which even the most modest of office-holders nowadays would regard as quite beneath their acceptance.

How he succeeded in wresting a subsistence for his large family from his sterile acres must remain a mystery. He was willing to live poorly, but there was one subject which cost him anxious thought. How was he to provide his family, and especially the two youngest boys, with the educational advantages which had been denied to him? There were no good schools near home, and without money he could not send his boys out of town to school.

Help came in an unexpected way.

One day the stalwart farmer entered his house with a look of satisfaction on his dark and rugged features.

“Wife,” he said, “I have been appointed Judge of the Court of Common Pleas for the county.”

“Indeed!” said his wife, naturally pleased at the honor which had been conferred upon her husband.

“It will bring me three to four hundred dollars a year,” said Mr. Webster, “and now I can hope to educate my boys.”

This was his first thought, and hers. It was not proposed to improve their style of living, to buy new furniture or new clothes, but to spend it in such a way as would best promote the interests of those whom God had committed to their keeping.

Three or four hundred dollars! It was a very small sum, so most of my boy readers will think; and so it was, but in a farmer’s household on the bleak acres of New Hampshire it would go a considerable way. Every dollar in Ebenezer Webster’s hands brought its money’s worth, and as we shall see hereafter it brought rich interest to the investor.

But Daniel was still too young for any immediate steps to be taken in the desired direction. He was sent to the small town schools, where he learned what the master was able to teach him. Sometimes he had two and a half and three miles to walk to school, but the farmer’s boy, though delicate, was not thought too delicate for such a walk. Indeed the boy’s delicacy was in his favor, for he was thought not robust enough to work on the farm steadily, and was sent to school, as an elder half-brother, Joseph, laughingly said, “to make him equal with the rest of the boys.” It was hard for those who saw him in later years, in his majestic proportions, to believe that he had been a delicate boy. The tender sapling had become a stately oak, with not a trace of feebleness or lack of strength.

One day when Daniel was at work in the hayfield, about the middle of the forenoon, Judge Webster, for this was his designation now, saw a carriage approaching.

“Some one to see you, father,” suggested Daniel.

“Yes,” said his father, preparing to leave his work; “it is the Congressman from our district.”

“What is his name?”

“Hon. Abiel Foster, my son. He lives in Canterbury.”

But the Congressman descended from his carriage and entered the field where Daniel and his father were at work. “Don’t let me interrupt you, Judge Webster,” said the visitor. “I merely wished to exchange a few words on public affairs.”

Daniel was old enough to have some notion of the office of a Congressman and his duties, and he regarded the honorable gentleman with attention, and perhaps with reverent respect, though he is said not to have been endowed with more than average ability, notwithstanding he had been educated at college, and had once been a minister.

When the conversation was over the Congressman got into his carriage and rode away. Judge Webster looked thoughtfully after him.

Then he said to Daniel, “My son, that is a worthy man; he is a Member of Congress; he goes to Philadelphia, and gets six dollars a day, while I toil here. It is because he had an education which I never had. If I had had his early education I should have been in Philadelphia in his place. I came near it as it was. But I missed it, and now I must work here.”

“My dear father,” answered Daniel, not without emotion, “you shall not work. Brother and I will work for you, and will wear our hands out, and you shall rest.”

The boy was much moved, and his breast heaved, for he knew well how hard his father had toiled for him and for all the family.

“My child,” said Judge Webster, “it is of no importance to me. I now live but for my children. I could not give your elder brothers the advantages of knowledge, but I can do something for you. Exert yourself, improve your opportunities, learn, learn, and when I am gone you will not need to go through the hardships which I have undergone, and which have made me an old man before my time.”

These words made a profound impression upon the boy. A man’s character and life add weight to the words which he utters, and wise and judicious advice coming from a trifler or a shallow person falls often unheeded, and with reason. But Daniel knew how much his father had accomplished without education—he knew how high his rank was among his neighbors, and no man ever probably received from him a tithe of that reverence which he felt for his plain, unlettered parent.

By this time he knew that his father had been largely instrumental in inducing New Hampshire to ratify that Constitution of which he obtained his first knowledge from the cheap cotton handkerchief which he had purchased at Master Hoyt’s store. The acceptance was by no means a foregone conclusion. Many of the delegates to the convention had been instructed to vote against acceptance, and among them Ebenezer Webster himself. But he obtained permission later to vote according to his own judgment, and the speech which he made in favor of this important action has been preserved. Just before the vote was taken, he rose and said:

“Mr. President, I have listened to the arguments for and against the Constitution. I am convinced such a government as that Constitution will establish, if adopted—a government acting directly on the people of the States—is necessary for the common defence and the public welfare. It is the only government which will enable us to pay off the national debt—the debt which we owe for the Revolution, and which we are bound in honor fully and fairly to discharge. Besides, I have followed the lead of Washington through seven years of war, and I have never been misled. His name is subscribed to this Constitution. He will not mislead us now. I shall vote for its adoption.”

No wonder that Daniel inherited from his father a reverent attachment for that Constitution which Judge Webster by word and deed had helped to secure and establish. His father was a grave and earnest man, but he was not stern nor ascetic. His strength was softened by good humor, and his massive features were often lighted up by a contagious laugh which endeared him to his family, who loved no less than they respected him.