University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER VIII

Conditions Dominating the Selection of the
University

My uncle, Luther M. Reynolds, a Delawarean by birth, a
Marylander by adoption, enjoyed a divided collegiate course—
the first half within his native State, at Delaware College,
where, entering in 1844, he came under the guidance, as was
often his delight to relate, of four young but afterwards noted
educational characters: George Allen, Eben Norton Horsford,
William Augustus Norton, and John Addison Porter, a
quartet not long together, being a few years later drawn into
broader and more useful fields. Professor Allen was called
to the chair of Ancient Languages in the University of Pennsylvania;
Professor Horsford to the Rumford chair of Applied
Science in Harvard University, where he encouraged Mr. Abbott
Lawrence to found the Lawrence Scientific School, and
originated the world renowned acid phosphate and baking powder;
Professor Norton to the Sheffield Scientific School, where
he taught for thirty-one years, becoming the author of popular
works on astronomy and natural philosophy; Professor Porter
to the chair of Chemistry in Yale College, where he married
the daughter of Mr. Joseph E. Sheffield, whom he influenced
in making the liberal donation that founded the scientific
school bearing his name.

Mr. Reynolds, owing to circumstances to be related, completed
his academic training at Jefferson College, Cannonsburg,
Pennsylvania, from which he graduated in 1847. Two
years later, June 1849, at the age of twenty-five, he graduated

from Yale Law School, and while there, near the end of his
course, had determined for himself by a chance method his
future scene of activity. A number of companion students
one day, according to usual custom, were resting carelessly
in chairs and on tables in the law library, when stoically the
subject of their prospective careers was introduced. Some
had fathers already well-established in legal practice, to whom
the problem was of easy solution; others were close to members
of the Bench and Bar, or to statesmen of acknowledged power
and influence, while Reynolds was simply the son of a well-to-do
farmer, with little following to aid advancement in a
professional line. On this day he made no secret to these
associates of his future, just then, being without plan or purpose,
so that all, interested in his welfare, made suggestions—
some indeed worthy of serious consideration. In the "confusion
of tongues," he arose to the occasion in rather a self-assertive
manner, proclaiming his ability to settle the matter
thus: "I will stick my knife at random between the leaves of
this law directory and write to the man whose name is nearest
the edge of the blade to take me in his office." Suiting action
to the words revealed the name of Samuel Tyler, Frederick,
Maryland. Then and there, in presence of the multitude, a
letter was written and mailed, which in due time brought a
courteous reply from Mr. Tyler to the effect, that at the then
present his office had sufficient force, but within the year he
expected a vacancy, which, if agreeable, he would reserve
gladly for his new correspondent.

Leaving Yale, Mr. Reynolds returned to his home, Golden
Ridge, a farm near Willow Grove, Delaware, from which
during the early autumn he entered the law office of Mr. Martin
W. Bates, at Dover, nine miles distant, where he remained
a year—then accepted the position that had materialized with
Mr. Tyler. Upon reaching Frederick he was received kindly
by his new preceptor, taken to his home and there domiciled.
A few days' intercourse convinced Mr. Tyler that the ambitious
young man already was well-equipped for the Bar, requiring
chiefly a familiarity with the Maryland "Code"—a fact gladly
realized, as he was having issued then from the press a legal
work, "Tyler's Practice," and needed some one to aid in proofreading.
This labor Mr. Reynolds willingly shared, in spite

of the great desire to make rapid progress in his legal studies,
and although serving two masters that half year he was admitted
to the Maryland Bar by Judge Purviance, February 19,
1851. This accomplished, the road would seem to have been
clear, but in those days, as now, opportunities had to be created
by the great majority, and where these could best be realized
was problematic. Young Reynolds' friends in Frederick, and
they were many, with one accord would listen to no other
selection than Maryland's accepted metropolis, Baltimore, and
to that end they armed him with letters to her most eminent
judges and lawyers. These he visited, and the welcoming
hands were so sincere and cordial that without hesitation he
decided to make Baltimore his permanent home, where he
lived for more than fifty years, enjoying a lucrative practice,
and ever loyal to her people and best interests, yet never losing
perceptibly the fondness for his native State and place of
birth. He loved his parents, brothers and sisters, possibly
"passing understanding," and his ter-annual visits to homeland
continued until death, December 12, 1901, with unabated
pleasure to both the visitor and the visited. His own home
was always most hospitable, sheltering in and out of season
all relatives, near and remote alike, and turning aside no
worthy Delawarean, though perhaps a positive stranger. He
was well-conversant with the genealogy of his State, taking
unusual pride in locating doubtful members of his own and
other families, and holding out to all the comforting friendship,
of there being for them in the Monumental City only one
stopping place—his residence. The longer and more frequent
the visits of those near to him the greater was he pleased, and
he thoroughly recognized that towards him all relatives bore
a reciprocal feeling. With such an "open sesame" the writer
was no small boy when first aware that hotels were needed in
cities, especially Baltimore—believing that all visitors thereto
enjoyed similar favorable privileges—and now looks back with
surprise at the freedom, second not even to possession, always
extended and realized by that delightful fireside.

Although uncle's Christmas visit to Delaware was by rail
and usually hurried, those in the spring and autumn were
more deliberate and made invariably with his private team—
a necessity for the greatest comfort in calling on those of his

direct line and a few congenial friends scattered over considerable
territory. His horses, a source of great pride, were
of high order, becoming wherever seen objects of comment
and admiration; his carriage, a Brewster or Rogers, was commodious,
attractive and easy, far excelling the prevailing styles
of that community, and his driver, of the colonial colored type,
now sadly almost extinct, was trusted and tried, having served
the family far beyond a generation. As a rule uncle was accompanied
by his wife, and sometimes his very congenial
mother-in-law, making a companionship of three or four extremely
happy souls. The route was either by Chester River
to Rolph's Wharf, or by Choptank and Tred Avon Rivers to
Easton or Oxford, thence driving the twenty or thirty miles to
their destination. So long as his parents lived their home was
his headquarters, and to them the coming was always a joyful
event, as, indeed, it was to the entire family circle. Reunion
dinners were given every day either at the paternal
abode or those of his brothers' and sisters', and abundant good
cheer pervaded every one's nature until the parting farewell
was given. The younger generation—nieces and nephews—
was not slow in catching the pleasure contagion incident to
these occasions, for they meant a substantial remembrance in
some form or another and contributed much delight to an
otherwise dull and monotonous rural life. After the death of
his parents (1874) these visits were continued just the same,
restricted, however to brothers and sisters, and a cousin bearing
his father's name, for whom he entertained the strongest
affection.

It was during his autumn visit of 1871, when spending a
night or two with my parents that in my presence he inquired
of mother (his sister) concerning the progress I was making
at school and contemplated educational plans. He expressed
himself earnestly in favor of college training, enumerated many
potent reasons therefor, and related a number of school-boy
experiences, for which he possessed an unusually retentive
memory, and I an appreciative as well as receptive mind. One
of these at least deserves preservation, as it not only concerns
several public characters, but reveals some extraordinary realizations—the
kind that served then to have a decided influence
for good upon a callow youth just beginning to see the light:

"In the summer of 1845 I returned home from Delaware
College complaining with a pain in my side, which the doctor
pronounced the result of liver complication, but readily amenable
to treatment. Father, however, concluded that a trip
might do more good than medicine, and quickly arranged for
me a visit to his cousins, John, Thomas and George Reynolds
—three brothers living at Jefferson, Pennsylvania. My old
teacher in Smyrna, Mr. Morgan, for whom I had unbounded
respect and admiration, had moved to Clarksburg, West Virginia,
and I determined it would be opportune to look in upon
him en route. I left home early one morning by stage for
Smyrna Landing, thence by boat to New Castle, by train to
Frenchtown, by steamer and train to Baltimore, reaching
the latter point, President Street Station, at 8 o'ck, P. M.
Mother advised me to patronize always the best hotels, so
Barnum's was selected for the night. Next morning I continued
my journey, purchasing a ticket to Paw Paw, a station
on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, and in course reached
Martinsburg for dinner—this being announced by a waiter
beating vigorously a large triangle. Upon arrival at Paw
Paw I took the Paw Paw and Parkersburg stage-line to Clarksburg,
some ninety miles east of Parkersburg, where I remained
a week, seeing much of my former teacher and riding around
the various mountains on horseback—trailing chiefly along
partly overgrown footpaths, there being no roads for vehicles
save the Parkersburg pike. One day I strayed to Beverly, a
distance of fifty miles, stopping often at the little farm houses
along the way to talk with the occupants, who, as a rule inclined
at first to be unfriendly. But as our conversation progressed,
and I announced myself a stranger to that section, a
resident of Delaware, their attitude quickly changed, since
they all were descendants of Revolutionary soldiers of the
Delaware line—their ancestors having taken that land, a contribution
by the State of Virginia, as a pension. None, however,
seemed to know from what part of Delaware they came
originally. After this delightful rest I proceeded to Geneva,
Fayette County, Pennsylvania, where I spent a Sabbath, putting
up at a hotel kept by Mr. Everhardt. This was a Dutch
town, but in conversation with the proprietor soon learned
that he was from Delaware, as were the Davenports, who
owned the store and dwelling opposite. As the store was open
I went over in a short while and had a talk with Mr. Davenport,
who, becoming interested, called his wife from the rear,
where they lived, to join in our already pleasantly begun chat
of Delaware and her people. This good woman was disinclined
to credit my representations until I introduced incidently
the old Welsh graveyard near Newark with the strikingly
peculiar inscriptions on many of the tombstones. Of these she
knew something and desired to learn more, as some of her
relatives lay buried there. Fortunately, having attended college
at Newark, I was equipped with much suitable information
and its imparting led to me being invited for dinner and
to spend with them the entire day. In the afternoon I gave
an account of my college work and expressed the intention of
teaching somewhere the coming year—a fact that caused Mrs.
Davenport to mention their school being closed, teacher gone,
and the universal delight it would give to have it reopened.
It was a select school, each scholar paying four dollars per
quarter, and the well-to-do families, in turn, boarding the
teacher. I decided then and there to accept the position for a
term, and began with about twenty-five scholars, among them
two daughters each of Messrs. Everhardt and Gans, the reputed
wealthiest citizens of the town—the latter receiving me
into his own family circle. I had not been in traces more
than a week or two, when, to great surprise and annoyance,
I found myself with a parasitic skin disease, scabies, contracted
from some of the students, and upon inquiry ascertained that
all knew of its prevalence, but attached little importance to its
seriousness, as they could guarantee a cure within a week.
Mr. Gans affirmed that the best doctor around was a graduate
of medicine living across the Monongahela River, but that
there resided in town one (quack) especially successful in
treating minor ailments. I saw this quack doctor, who gave
me a white salve to rub between my fingers and knee joints,
and as promised the cure was like magic—simply drying up
the disease within forty-eight hours. During the three
months' stay at Geneva I paid several visits to my father's
cousins—the Reynolds brothers, at Jefferson—the first being
on a bright Sunday morning astride of Mr. Gans' favorite
trotter, when the distance was covered by 10:30 o'ck. After
hitching the horse I rapped at the front door, but found all
away except Mrs. Reynolds, to whom I revealed my identity
and the fact that her husband had only seen me once—when a
baby in my mother's arms. As her husband's return was expected
by noon she suggested me remaining in the parlor so
that he could have an abrupt chance at guessing my personality.
When told of a stranger's presence he immediately came
into the room, extended pleasant salutations, and after standing
a few moments facing me, smiled and said: Why, you
are my cousin Robert W. Reynolds' son, Luther, whose home
I visited for a week when you were an infant. This gentleman
was Thomas Reynolds, seemingly the most prosperous
of the three brothers, who kept the main hotel of the town
and managed other industries—being fine looking with ruddy
complexion, six feet high and weighing two hundred pounds.
After talking a while he went out and invited his two brothers,
George and John, to dine with him, so we all together spent
several very pleasant hours. He insisted that I remain longer
than had been planned, an impossibility, and that I repeat my
visit often—so difficult as only to be availed of on one other occasion.
Another day, however, I rode in a different direction
and called on their two sisters, whom I found large, healthy
and good-looking women, much beloved by their neighbors—
the one who married Mr. Randolph appearing the more intelligent
and expressing her intention of visiting Delaware
some time.

"My sojourn at Geneva came at an end one pleasant Sunday
afternoon, when I departed for Brownsville, a town some
twenty miles down the river, with a population of four or five
thousand, on the National pike at the head of slack-water of
the Monongahela. Soon after arriving I walked down to the
wharf to take for Pittsburg the boat, which, to my great surprise,
bore the name of `Louis McLane,' a fact that made
me feel not so far from home as other conditions would indicate.
It was now Monday afternoon when we pulled away
from Brownsville, and upon reaching Pittsburg some hours
later I sought a hotel with good accommodations, as I proposed
to remain at least a week and explore the city thoroughly,
in order to learn its advantages, if any, over eastern
rivals.

"One of my colleagues at Delaware College, Mr. Armstrong,
had accepted a position at Lexington, Kentucky, as an assistant
teacher in his brother-in-law's female seminary, and for
him I still retained a friendly attachment. As I yet had considerable
money from my Geneva teaching, the thought of a
trip to Lexington to see him and her greater citizen, Henry
Clay, suggested itself, consequently after staying the allotted
time in Pittsburg, I took a steamer, one beautiful morning,
running between that city and New Orleans. The first night
on board I noticed a great deal of gambling among the fast
set, which, however, did not begin until about 11 o'ck, after
the less worldly passengers had retired to the sleep of the just.
These gamblers I observed slept during the day, and had a
banker whom they called Levi, who awoke them at any desired
hour and furnished wine, money, etc. In due time
Louisville was reached, and as I stood on the `quay' with my
trunk, my eye, glancing up one of the streets, saw in the
distance the sign—Ohio Hotel—towards which I immediately
set pace, having a colored man to follow with my trunk, thinking
all the time of my father's cousins who lived somewhere in
that city. Their name was Forsythe, so next morning I
started out to hunt them up, having previously consulted the
directory and several persons. This task shortly came to a
happy conclusion, as they were found easily and convinced
quickly that I was no impostor. They soon inquired my
hotel, and when I replied, adding mother's injunction—always
stop at the best— they laughed heartily, saying: Well, you
certainly missed it this time; you must change to the Gault
House—an advice accepted the following morning. Mr. Forsythe,
the senior, had one son and two daughters; the former
was studying medicine then, became prominent in his profession—a
surgeon in the Confederate service—and married the
widow of General A. P. Hill, she being a sister of General
John Morgan; one of the daughters, Emma, married Mr.
Crockwell, and is the mother of Miss Lillian, who frequently
spends weeks at my home; the other daughter married Mr.
Sterling, and is the mother of Mrs. Scott, who also visits us
occasionally. Their father reminded me very much of my
father in manners, affability, florid complexion, Adam's apple,
etc., and not only he but his entire household were extremely

kind to me—that which in later years I have endeavored to
reciprocate.

"I only remained in Louisville half of the week, and then
set out for Lexington by stage, which ran to Frankfort some
fifty miles distant, where I tarried several days, taking in the
beautiful suburban country. From here the rest of the trip
was by railroad, the only one west of the Alleghany
mountains, which was then financially embarrassed owing to
its defaulting treasurer, a man from New Castle County, Delaware,
of whose whereabouts the authorities were anxious to
learn. Some thought him secreted in New York or Philadelphia,
but I heard in after years that his father-in-law, Mr.
William (Billy) Hurlock, had given him refuge within his
own home, near Saint George's, Delaware, where he remained
a long time to the mystification of the public. I reached Lexington
one Monday after dark and was recommended to the
Phœnix Hotel, where registering, dining, and feeling fatigued
I soon sought my room for sleep. After a comfortable night's
rest I arose early, as was my custom, and finding a colored
man washing the pavement, inquired of him the way to Ashland,
the home of Mr. Clay, only to receive the quick and polite
reply: `Right straight out dat road dere Boss.' This road
was Main Street, and the direction eastward, so I began to
walk the route suggested, reaching Ashland, one and a half
miles, in a very short time. I readily recognized the place
from the pictures already seen, which at that time were well-scattered
over the country, as were those of Mr. Clay—he having
just been a Presidential candidate. It was the great
popularity and esteem enjoyed by Mr. Clay that stimulated me
to get a glimpse of him if possible, and as I neared the house,
standing about two hundred yards from the pike, I noticed
several gentlemen in the side field looking at some colts, one
of which party persisted in walking towards the animals while
suddenly making a rattling noise with his hand on the inside
of his silk hat, thereby giving fright and causing them to
prance around at a lively gait. I had never seen that trick
practiced before and as it was effective considered it a good
one. I passed beyond the house, and upon turning around to
retrace steps townward noticed in the same field with the colts
a colored man on the road side taking down the old post and

University—Carr's Hill, with Students' Mess Hall

rail fence, and a little further on another colored man with a
white gentleman setting new posts in new holes—the old posts
having been removed. I asked the first individual, if Mr. Clay
had gone to his office, when he pointed ahead to the two engaged
at post setting and said: `Dat dare yonder is Moss
Henry.' I then walked slowly towards that spot and sure
enough it was Mr. Clay, plainly recognized from his various
pictures. In passing I never took my eyes off of him, as he
was intent upon the work in hand and little conscious of the
intruder, and hurriedly returned to the hotel for breakfast.
The same day I called upon my friend, Mr. Armstrong, and
among other things told him of my favorable impression of
the country, climate, town, and the looks of things in general,
adding that should he hear of an opportunity for teaching,
kindly put me in the way of it, as I would like to remain in
Lexington, at least during the winter. He at once spoke of
the school at Walnut Hill, six miles from town, likely to be in
need of a teacher very soon, and as this was on the pike running
from Lexington, the county-seat of Fayette County, to
Richmond, the county-seat of Madison County, the next day
found me on foot seeking the school. This I readily recognized
by Mr. Armstrong's description—building small and
by the side of a church—and upon rapping at the door the
teacher soon appeared, when I introduced myself and made
known my business. He seemed pleased at this possible turn
in affairs, stated that he was from Maine where the winters
were too severe for his weak lungs, consequently had sought
Lexington as a southern point, expecting it to meet all requirements,
but this it did not do last winter, so he thought
it wise to spend from November to March in Florida—that
which he would do, if he could get a suitable substitute for that
period willing to hand over the charge upon his return. I
told him of my willingness to accept the school under those
terms, and that he need apprehend no trouble in resuming
duties at any time he might specify. We at once arranged
matters, going so far as to discuss a suitable boarding place
and to ask one of the little scholars, Levi Rhoads, if he thought
I, their new teacher, could get accommodations at his house.
To this he replied: `I don't know, sir, but if you will go home
with me we can soon find out from my mother.' After school
I accompanied Levi to his father's, Colonel Rhoads, and remained
on the porch while the lad searched for his parents.
It was a beautiful afternoon and while sitting there in the
enjoyment of quiet meditation, Mrs. Rhoads appeared, who,
after the usual formalities of strangers meeting, made the assurance
that they would be pleased to have me with them.
This young lad, Levi Todd Rhoads, was a grandson of Levi
Todd, a lieutenant in the battle of Blue Licks, whose brother
John, the hero of that engagement, exhibited such foolhardy
bravery, as did Major McGary, as to lose the battle along with
his life. The Kentuckians were pursuing the Indians, and, as
related in the life of Daniel Boone, had reached the Licking
River, when a council of war was held to consider the advisability
of awaiting reinforcements or crossing the river in
further pursuit. Boone opposed the latter alternative, but
Major McGary and Colonel Todd, before a decision had been
reached, wildly rushed into the river exclaiming: `Brave
men will follow me, cowards will remain behind,' whereupon
all fell in line. Upon ascending the opposite shore and proceeding
about a mile they encountered an ambuscade of Indians—just
where two ravines, one on either side of the ridge,
so conformed as to conceal an enemy that might assail them
in front and flank before realizing the slightest danger. It
was this that happened, giving to the Indians the famous victory
of Blue Licks, in which many officers and men sacrificed
their lives. Colonel Todd owned about three thousand acres
of highly cultivated land around Walnut Hill, divided into
three farms, one for each of his daughters—wives of Colonel
Rhoads, Major Bullock, and Major Carr. It was here these
families resided, while Robert Todd, a brother of the three
ladies, conducted a store in Lexington, and became the father
of several children, two of whom it was my pleasure to know
well—one a boy, Bob, about fourteen years of age, the other a
young lady, Ann, some years older. This lady frequently
came out to visit her aunt, Mrs. Rhoads, so that enjoying the
same home, we naturally gravitated into good friendship, in
spite of her never appealing to me owing to aggressive smart
mannerisms. One day, however, she took me aside to recount
the shortcomings of her brother, Bob, whom she described as
incorrigible and a menace to the happiness of all his former
teachers—insisting that I take him under my special care in
conformity with her parents' wishes, since they, knowing me,
believed I could do something for the boy's good. I readily
consented to the appeal, so within a few days the young fellow
was sent out to his aunt's, Mrs. Rhoads, to board and become
my pupil—a contact that gave me not the slightest trouble, as
he soon became studious and attentive to all duties. Mrs.
Bullock had a son who was a lawyer in Lexington, a partner
of John Cabell Breckinridge, whose sister he married.

"The regular teacher failed to return the last of March, as
had been his intention, owing to the unusually severe winter in
Florida as well as Kentucky, consequently I retained my teaching
until early June, that which was very acceptable to me, as
it neared the completion of the scholastic year and allowed him
a few weeks for examinations and closing the school according
to his own liking.

"Several days before leaving for home, preparatory to reentering
Delaware College, Mrs. Rhoads thought so well of
me as to extend the compliment of a parting supper, at which
the following personages were seated: Mr. and Mrs. Rhoads,
Levi Rhoads, their son, Bob Todd, the bad boy, Ann Todd, the
aggressive sister, Mr. Bullock, John C. Breckinridge, and myself.
While at the table the subject of my going was discussed,
as well as college course yet to be completed. Mr. Breckinridge
seemed especially interested, and insisted that I change
from Delaware College to Jefferson College, of which his
uncle, Dr. Robert J. Breckinridge, was president—a gentleman
possessing many friends around Lexington, having been born
and reared there, but for many years pastor of the Second
Presbyterian Church, Baltimore. I promised the assembled
guests to stop over at Jefferson College, whereupon Mr. John
C. Breckinridge at once penned a letter of introduction to Dr.
Breckinridge, to which all present affixed their names.

"I left Lexington on the appointed afternoon, taking the
stage for Maysville on the Ohio River, and when about fifteen
miles on the road we met a lady desiring passage to our destination,
but as every seat was filled it was impossible to give
her accommodation unless some gentleman consented to vacate
and ride on top with the driver. The appeal was made and I
alone responded, giving her my seat and riding the rest of the

night high above their heads under a beautiful starry canopy.
While it was rather cool, protection by blankets and an iron
guard-rail made sleep safe and refreshing. About midnight
we stopped at a large hotel where an orchestra discoursed
sweet music to which manly and maidenly feet kept pace in
the rhythmic dance. This was the Blue Lick Springs Hotel
brightly illuminated and in the midst of an overcrowded hop,
but the prevailing sulphurous emanations were so strong that
I was right glad when we sped again our onward way. We
arrived at Maysville next morning and there took a boat for
Pittsburg, where I caught a stage for Cannonsburg, eighteen
miles distant. Shortly after reaching there and getting located
at the hotel, I visited Dr. Breckinridge, and presented my
much signed letter, which upon reading caused a greeting of
more than ordinary cordiality, emphasized by calling all the
family to meet the young gentleman direct from Lexington.
Dr. Breckinridge had two sons, Robert and William, also
several daughters, one then grown. A granddaughter afterwards
became a Mrs. Handy, the wife of a Presbyterian minister
on the eastern shore of Maryland, and to them children
were born, one son having served Delaware as Congressman.

"I remained at Jefferson College until graduated, June, 1847,
having as classmates, John H. Handy, John P. Pennington,
William McDonald, etc., but left for home immediately after
Commencement, going by boat and stage to Brownsville, canal
boat to Cumberland, cars to Baltimore and home. While at
the hotel in Lexington, several days before taking charge of
Walnut Hill School, when eating breakfast one morning I
noticed a gentleman, Mr. Horeine, finish the meal, get up and
go out, and to be followed by a Mr. Shelby, son of Colonel
John Shelby. Getting through shortly thereafter, I walked
out of the dining room just in time to see the latter fire and
kill the former. Shelby was brought to trial and I had the
pleasure of hearing Mr. Clay's great speech in the defence. I
came to reside in Baltimore, February, 1851, boarding opposite
The Sun office, Baltimore Street near North, and soon found
that some gamblers were very near by being brought several
times in close legal relation with one, who frequently spoke of
his manager—the identical Levi that was on the steamer when
I went down the Ohio River to Louisville, whom I saw in our

city many times thereafter. After an absence of twenty-five
years I revisited Lexington this summer, reaching there at
night and only to spend twenty-four hours, as my chief interest
lay in Frankfort. Next morning I thought I would look
around the town to see what changes time had wrought. Of
course Mr. Clay was dead, as I had seen his body lay-in-state in
the Rotunda of our Baltimore City Hall, but I walked out to
Ashland, which I found looking as it did a quarter-century before,
and strange to relate the old fence was being replaced by a
new one. I talked with the colored men engaged at the work,
when one remarked that, "Moss Henry helped to put up the
old fence," to which I replied: Yes, that is true, for I can
testify to having seen him with my own eyes right here thus
engaged. I inquired of the hotel clerk concerning various old
friends, including Bob Bullock, whom the clerk said was then
the county sheriff, and had an office just opposite. In a short
while I called on him and asked if he knew who I was? He
replied: `I cannot tell your name, but you were a captain in
my Regiment during the war, or a member of my Regiment,
or so and so of Colonel Henderson's Regiment.' Finding he
was not a very good guesser, I revealed my identity, when,
remembering me distinctly, we entered pleasantly into conversation
concerning former times and persons somewhat dear
to us both. I inquired after the Todds, who were his cousins,
especially Bob and Ann, when he jumped up from his chair
and loudly exclaimed: `You don't mean to tell me that you
lived for eight years within forty miles of them and knew nothing
of either!' I replied: `I do mean to say so, whereupon he
quietly continued: `My cousin Ann resided at the White House
with her sister, Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, while her brother,
Bob, was the keeper of Libby Prison, Richmond, Virginia.' "

Mother and I seemed to enter so thoroughly into the spirit
of Uncle's morning talk that thereafter he felt warranted in
making some suggestions concerning my future, at least such
as he considered important at that time. As a fact, however,
he was not unlike other eldest children, as he never hesitated
to counsel brothers and sisters to their advantage in matters of
significance, and although not a father he advised freely concerning
children of his blood and those in whom he took interest,
expressing opinions in no mistaken language upon their

acts done and proposed; he allowed nothing to go unnoticed
and unchallenged savoring of the slightest deception or indirectness,
and while liking his advice followed he never held
against one its non-acceptance. On that morning he continued:
"You know `Sal' (for that was the name he used
in speaking to her, but "my sister Sarah" when speaking of
her), if I were in your place I would see that David receives
more than a seminary training, for he seems studious and receptive
of knowledge, and it would be a shame to deny him
opportunities or curtail any ambition he might possess and
develop in that direction. I freely confess that some men
of my acquaintance are great in the absence of collegiate
education, but with it I contend they would have been far
greater; while on the other hand I know some men who are
fools in spite of their college course, but I honestly believe
that without it they would have been even greater fools. Although
it may be true `that all men are created equal,' so far
as the `rights of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness' are
concerned, yet this does not hold good when applied to natural
inheritance and endowments. Truly I recognize that there
is no special reason why your son should be more favorably
gifted than his several companions, and as most of them will
have to be contented with moderate schooling, should David
be allowed to follow their example, we can expect his future
only similar to that predicted for them. But if he will apply
himself diligently, making more than ordinary advancement in
his studies, then there is hope for a career of greater promise
than fighting for a mere existence. Granting, that with an
education he makes simply a living, then I contend he will have
a broader and deeper life—one more resplendent in self-satisfaction.
It is true I appreciate the fact that there is more in
education than books, institutions and diplomas, as there is
more in religion than creeds, churches and sermons; even
knowledge may not be education, but the two are related
closely, since the former is the food of the latter, consequently
a person may have much knowledge and little education, or
much education and little knowledge. I consider education to
be—developed mind, thinking power, the mind trained and
equipped to do that for which it was intended—and when a
mind can do this it is educated, whether it has encountered the
college process or not, but if it cannot do this it is not educated,
although backed by many diplomas and crammed to overflowing
with important facts. Such a development I would like to
see wrought in David, but even if that be impossible we owe
it to ourselves to make the endeavor at having him become an
honorable and intelligent citizen through mind training. In
order that he may have good opportunities and advantages
it is important to be careful in the selection of a college, and
personally I have no special one to recommend. Of course
there are three kinds—good, better, best—and yet at any one
a decided amount of knowledge can be gained, much depending
directly upon the individual himself. You may lead a
horse to water but all power on earth cannot compel him to
drink unless he feels so inclined.

"At every college there is the greatest abundance of knowledge
held on tap for willing recipients—that the sloth and
laggard secures only a small quantity is no evidence against
the atmosphere he breathes being overcharged with it. As
you well know, from the beginning to the end, I attended three
—Delaware, Jefferson, Yale—and in a way each possessed
merit. I was all along a close student, deriving untold benefit
from each year's work, and there were plenty of my companions
that equalled, possibly excelled me. I never saw a
week in those days when I considered myself not having about
all I desired to stand up to in comfort, and yet I am not wedded
to these institutions for David. On the other hand our
brother Thomas is very decided in his likes and dislikes of
educational institutions, and never hesitates to express his
great admiration for the work done at the University of Virginia.
Thomas, you recall, attended Dickinson College,
Carlisle, Pennsylvania, and upon leaving there went direct to
Virginia to teach others some of that which had been taught
him, and during those two years of pedagogic experience came
in contact with a number of University of Virginia men—
those loyal to truth and in sounding her praise—consequently
he believes that not only is the scholarship offered and gained
there of an unusual high order, but that the dignified personnel
of the student-body has few equals, and cannot be excelled."

Even though all of this conversation was directed chiefly
to my mother, yet personally I was paying strict attention—to

that which ultimately was to have positive effect. I had already
passed through the first grade public school, having had
the guidance of two unusually fine teachers, and had spent one
year at Felton Seminary, Delaware, to which I was about returning
for a second year. The expression of this solicitous
feeling in my behalf, on the part of "Uncle Luther," was by no
means the first awakening impulse to my mother's aspirations,
for she had followed closely her only offspring from his very
infancy, waiting and hoping that each succeeding year would
reveal a substantial evidence of something more than childlike
precocity—that which every one admitted to be possessed
in no little degree. She, in and out of my presence, had often
talked over with father the advisability of giving me a well-rounded
education, and he was in perfect accord of letting it
include a college or university training. His schooling had
been limited—restricted to the public schools—and he was unwilling
that his son's should be likewise, for no one realized
more keenly than he what the absence of higher advantages
signified. I have so often heard him lament the poor opportunities
afforded him for gaining knowledge, and reasonably
predict what more he might have made of himself had the
earlier years been turned to a different account. Most prominent
men of his acquaintance, in professions and business, enjoyed
a liberal education, and he sincerely thought that it was
this alone that had brought them to positions of honor and
trust. It is true, as he commented, he had seen a few college
men reach untimely drunkard's graves, but he considered such
as poor unfortunates—attributing their downfall rather to personal
weakness than to the evil of worldly associates formed
away from parental restraint and influence. He further believed
that with a good education no one need be a financial
failure, and that with it every one easily secured unto himself
a life of far greater comfort and satisfaction. My course at
the Seminary continued to be Latin, Greek, mathematics, and
music—the latter mother contending essential to drive dull
care away in after life, that which no one seems entirely able
to escape. During the early spring of that session (1871-72),
without consulting my parents—considering that unnecessary—I
wrote to several institutions, including the University
of Virginia, for catalogues, all being received in due time.
That of the University was accompanied by excerpts therefrom,
bound separately, of the three professional schools—
Law, Medicine, Agriculture—supplemented by a very friendly
personally written letter, signed, Charles S. Venable, Chairman.
As time permitted these were read with adequate care
and interest to become familiar with essentials, without deciding
what to do in the coming autumn. Seminary boys of
the industrious sort have little time for thoughts outside of
preparing daily recitations and assigned duties, consequently
in these tasks I had questions to settle quite "sufficient unto
the day thereof." It is true we discussed together occasionally
our preferences for colleges, and for particular ones some
students from the start had arranged their studies, thereby
avoiding any concern in that direction on the home stretch,
but most of us talked little and thought less concerning the
near or remote future.

One day late in April I picked up in the reading room among
the newer magazines, a copy of Harper's Monthly for May,
which I found to contain an article, entitled, "Mr. Jefferson's
Pet," in reality a ten or twelve page history of the University
of Virginia, beautifully written and attractively illustrated
with five good-sized wood cuts: Statue of Mr. Jefferson, by
Galt; Western aspect of the University; Southern view of the
Lawn; The Rotunda, and School of Athens, in the Public
Hall. Of course I was much interested in its reading, and
confess to it impressing me strongly with the institution's
greatness, as up to that time I had seen little or nothing published
in the more reputable household journals concerning
our colleges or universities, and that Harper's would devote
such space to other than the higher I knew to be impossible.
Thus my Uncle's conversation, Professor Venable's friendly
and explanatory letter, and the article in Harper's influenced,
indeed confirmed the selection so far as I personally was concerned,
consequently thereafter my parents' approval was the
only thing needed.

My record at the Seminary for the year had been highly
satisfactory—nothing below ninety, and from that up to ninety-five,
ninety-six and one hundred, so with such a creditable
report there was neither shame or remorse attached to my return
home the middle of June—a fact I hastened to manifest by

showing these results and explaining my already determined
plans supported as best I could with intelligent arguments.
Mother from the first seemed thoroughly pleased, so expressing
herself, while father was not adverse, since he had sided
with the Confederacy, proclaiming boldly in and out of
season his fervent devotion to that cause. He had endeavored
to escape into the Southern line, but was intercepted after getting
many miles from home; owing to his outspoken sentiments
the Federal forces, by which we absolutely were surrounded,
kept close vigil over his goings and comings—once
with arrestment subjecting him during the incarceration to
numerous indignities, and on several other occasions used direful
threats in order to curb his irritating tongue. A positive
character like his, and that he was in those days for all the
words imply, quite naturally chafed in no little degree under
such impending authority, and could not well at that slightly
later period be reconciled to the fact of there existing anything
good north of "Mason and Dixon's Line." He was, therefore,
not slow in deciding against all northern institutions and
in favor of my selection, consequently as he controlled largely
the purse I felt that an early realization of cherished hopes
was assured. During vacation several letters passed between
Professor Venable and myself pertaining to entrance, necessary
arrangements, etc., and in one of these he advised my
reaching the University a few days before the session opened,
in order to get located suitably by the time work began in
earnest—a suggestion gladly followed.

University—Medical Hall

(Erected 1825, restored 1886)

University—Infirmary

(Erected 1857)