University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER X

Arrival at the University—Mr. Jefferson's Child and
Pet

After a restless stop of ten minutes at Gordonsville we
found ourselves curving slowly with screeching noise upon the
"Chesapeake and Ohio" track, to be increased shortly beyond
our accustomed speed, as the roadbed was evidently of higher
order than that already passed over, while the rails seemed
heavier and firmer—indeed, made of steel and of English importation
according to my informant. This reconciled me to
the quicker service now enjoyed, that which would have made
acceptable a greater distance than the twenty-one miles yet
to be covered, including the three stops—Lindseys (Cobham),
Keswick and Shadwell, six, fourteen and eighteen miles respectively.
The road now entered a more rugged and hilly
territory with scarcely a half mile curveless, some short and
on grade, while the land gave evidence of richness, but the
kind farmers care little to cultivate save in the absence of less
rough and rocky. Lindseys, a small station around which the
hand of industry appeared active, came shortly in sight, as
did within the next fifteen minutes a larger village, Keswick,
nestled even in a more thriving neighborhood, where pretentious
homes crowned the surrounding hilltops and inclines.
Our route lay at the base and between slopes of a hundred
or more feet, then in the open or through deep artificial cuts
of solid rocks concealing in passing our train from landscape

views, and contributing a disagreeable weird resonance from
which one is always glad to make escape. A glimpse of an
occasional cascade, entire or part, following abrupt declivities
could be caught in shade and sunlight, while a rapidly running
stream often added picturesqueness to the scene. Suddenly
we came to hug for a mile or two the north (east) bank of
the Rivanna River, when every moment brought us nearer to
a mountain base on our left, whose lofty altitude continued to
overshadow more and more our onward path. The stop at
Shadwell of a minute sufficed to give those on the alert an
idea of Mr. Jefferson's birth-place—the estate inherited from
his father, which gradually lifted itself in irregular nodules
of gently declining sides to the north (east) of the station and
stream, whose rapid flow towards the James through hills
and valleys afforded in the distance a panorama of an immense
rolling plain relieved by a fading yellow line. Slightly
to the southwest towered above us some six hundred feet the
graceful little mountain, Monticello, carrying upon its summit
in clear outline the majestic home built by the immortal Jefferson,
while just opposite the waving crests in the northwest
ascended even higher to vanish in the distance from the bluish
horizon. Onward we sped encountering the mountain sides
studded with stately trees and dense foliage, with scarcely
diminished size and quantity towards the apex, immense overhanging
boulders projecting their rugged faces partly covered
with moss and indigenous ferns, persistent autumnal leaves
assuming beautiful variegated tints, the brilliant shining sun
diffusing its caloric rays from the western quarter causing
shadows to fall now and then at various angles as the train
tortuously "drew its slow length along." A moment we were in
the clear, then lost to all save noise and a mountainous passage.
Surely these last few miles afforded a succession of picturesque
surroundings in joyous contrast with anything encountered
during the day, while none was quite as impressive as
that, after hugging the river's northern bank, of grading
above the water-level nearly a hundred feet to pass over the
stream by a long substantial unobstructed iron bridge. Thus
suspended apparently amid air, the view of the river northward
was somewhat unique, revealing in the foreground a
high dam across the entire width, over which rolled in
lively fashion a large volume of reddish-yellow opaque water,
while above (northward), until broken by a right divergence,
appeared a smooth continuous golden sheet. Below (southward)
the river-bed revealed many rocky boulders of varying
size, around which turbulent waters rushed and spouted—
for the autumn equinox had spent itself only a few days
before, giving mountain streams excessive volume and swiftness,
thereby causing the Rivanna to betray its ordinary form
and habit. At the western terminus of the "long bridge"
loomed up on our left a large factory building, Charlottesville
Woolen Mills, whose running power was supplied mostly
by the waters beyond the retaining dam. We were now approaching
our last milestone, and for that distance I stood at
the rear car door in order to gaze at Monticello from the best
exposed position. Often the deep cuts broke the level view
only to reveal in the clear the entire landscape to be a continuous
table-land composed of highly cultivated fields of an
irregular rolling surface, ornamented here and there with
pleasant arbored homes. It was the Piedmont Valley unfolding
itself in beautiful panorama.

One long shrill blast from the engine, the passing of outlying
buildings, and the retarding speed brought a recognition of
my approaching destination, confirmed in a few moments by
the brakeman swinging open the doors and loudly calling out
several times, "Charlottesville." We were entering the town
at a very slow pace, with engine bell rhythmically pealing its
note of warning and the car-wheels accenting the friction of
hand-applied brakes. But above all could be heard distinctly
the penetrating sound of a gong, which I soon saw to be of
good size and manipulated vigorously by a stalwart man of
color, wearing highly polished brass insignia in front of his
cap and on the lapel of his coat. Added to this unwelcome
noise came that of many voices uttering names and expressions
to me thoroughly unfamiliar—"Central Hotel;" "Farish
House;" "Monticello Hotel;" "Hack, Sir;" "Buss, Boss;"
"Right up to the University," etc. Amid such confusion and
pandemonium our train came to a standstill, my car's forward
platform just edging up to the east flagging of the Central Hotel,
whose sign I easily read from the car platform with grip
and umbrella in hand, but lost sight of in descending to the

pavement, since then the din appeared to grow stronger and I
found myself surrounded by all shades of drivers and hotel solicitors.
The depot building was brick, one story, many years
old, on the west side of the track, but south side of Main Street,
and along the entire width together with considerable street
space westward stood a line of various styled vehicles awaiting
patronage. I quickly scanned the array—apparently belonging
to a different period than that in which "we lived, moved and
had our being." While to have singled out the special one
used by Mr. Jefferson, or the driver that had served him at
Monticello, fifty years before, was more than an ordinary task,
yet the majority looked equal to that service. Indeed, all these
so styled hacks were heavy, unwieldy, old and dilapidated,
having experienced many years of constant use as well as abuse,
while the occupants of the boxes possessed silvered heads—having
grown decrepit in faithful bondage. One of these from
polite salutation and urgent solicitations appealed especially
to me, and to him I passed over my traps and baggage check,
never a moment questioning integrity or trustfulness. In a
few minutes, however, with my identification, he produced the
trunk, which, by a knack familiar to those of his craft, was
landed from the shoulder to a place high up in front near
where he was to sit and drive. In the wait I saw at least a
hundred students, some who had journeyed along with me,
others who, having arrived at earlier hours, were there to
greet the return of fellow classmates. On every side unusual
rejoicing prevailed as friendly faces renewed their quondam
smile and hands their secret grasp. Cheery laughter rang out
on every side, frenzying the atmosphere with the best social
qualities of youth, and impressing the stranger that above all
things the most loyal friendship pervaded those attending
the University. The hacks were soon filled, leaving a large
walking contingent, chiefly from choice, as riding proved
a rare indulgence by the old and thoroughly familiar
students.

Our procession headed westward up a short easy grade,
curving slightly leftward to follow in a straight line the Main
Street for a half mile, then veered leftward up a short ascent,
Vinegar Hill (Collis Acetum), along a roadbed elevated thirty
feet above the street level in the town, at first southwest for

a hundred or more yards, thence to the right, westward, for
a mile, at which distance the buildings, trees and outlying
grounds of the University could plainly be seen. This much
traveled boulevard was practically level and straight, although
just before reaching the railroad crossing near the entrance
to the University precinct it made a slight divergence to the
right—northwest. After engaging at the depot the carriage
and placing therein my hand effects, I aided the driver somewhat
in designating my trunk among the many, and upon returning
to take my seat found sitting within a lady dressed in
black. Her hair was arranged neatly, but severely plain,
curving from a distinct middle part to slightly cover a decidedly
intelligent forehead; the face was kind and expressive,
but to me a trifle sad—as though she carried years of weighty
responsibility. Having thrown carelessly my light luggage
upon the rear seat, she was occupying the front one until I
insisted on an exchange—a suggestion readily accepted with
an avowed apology for trespassing knowingly in a pre-engaged
vehicle, but in the dilemma of none other, "necessity knew no
law." Thereafter we shared the rear seat, and she soon
brightened into conversation upon University matters to my
benefit and pleasure. My prospective course, preparation,
day's journey and even family came in as agreeable topics,
and in spite of the rattling conveyance giving annoyance as it
bounded heedlessly over cobbles of various size, the end of the
ride came too quickly. As the driver made his first right-angle
turn leftward at Wash. Hall he came to a stop, when the lady
remarked: I leave you here. At once I alighted, held open
the door, assisted her to the pavement, and expressed my good
fortune in having had her as a companion and the desire for
her name, she being the first lady with whom I had enjoyed a
conversation in Virginia. She withdrew smilingly and said:
"I am Mrs. Davis, wife of one of the professors" (Dr. John
Staige Davis).

I re-entered the carriage only for a few hundred feet, Proctor's
office, midway this (east) range of buildings that paralleled
the driveway. The door stood open, indicative of the
mild temperature without, the hospitable sentiment within,
and on the pavement in front were several trunks to which my
own was added. Upon entering the office I saw, seated behind

a long table covered with green baize, a handsome middle-aged
gentleman with florid complexion and tall figure, Major
Green Peyton, surrounded by a half dozen students, who in
turn were arranging for rooms and tuition. While waiting
I observed the doings of those ahead and followed their
example by introducing myself and explaining my wants. I
spoke of my correspondence with the Chairman, to whose office
I wished to be directed, and expressed the desire for a quietly
located room, and although other students in this time had
joined our ranks, standing around impatiently, he in an
affable, obliging and deliberate manner supplied every possible
detail. Assured of my trunk's safety I followed his
directions to the Chairman's office, by turning left outside of
the door, proceeding up the range a hundred or more feet,
swinging left at right angle along a gradual incline of several
hundred feet to the rear of a parallel row of buildings at a
higher elevation—reaching their front by a ten-foot opening
flanked by a dozen steps, thereby coming for the first time
upon the "Lawn." Here I turned right, ascended a half
dozen stone steps, and continued forward a hundred yards to
room No. 8, whose location I prejudged in the distance
from the line of young men filed out on the pavement. I found,
as at the Proctor's office, the door wide open revealing a moderate-sized
desk backed against the north wall, with an ordinary
large office chair in front occupied by a middle-aged gentleman
inclined to be fleshy. As he sat there one could readily
catch his back and side view, and when turning occasionally his
head towards the door the strong facial features became distinctly
visible and impressive. At least ten students were
ahead of me, and feeling no hurry in taking position in line
until several others were about to join, I passed some minutes
viewing the beautiful terraced Lawn adorned with its imposing
pantheonic Rotunda, towering white columns and long
colonnades. One by one the numbers faded until I myself
faced the Chairman, who spoke to me, as I observed he had
to the others, with a kindly smile and a deliberate deep-toned
voice: "Well, it is your turn next." To which I replied:
"Yes Sir, I believe so"—at the same time reaching in my side
pocket for the letter of introduction my Uncle had given me
the afternoon before and placing it in his hand. Being unsealed
and bearing his name he quickly unfolded it to reveal
the contents:

On behalf of my personal friend, Mr. Luther M. Reynolds, a leading
member of our Baltimore Bar, I take great pleasure in introducing to
you his nephew, David M. R. Culbreth, the bearer of this letter, who is
about to enter the University. I bespeak for this young man while with
you, your kind consideration, assuring you that any courtesies extended
will be appreciated highly by him, his uncle and your sincere friend.

Although I had read the letter several times, neither the
contents nor the attached names conveyed to me any special
significance beyond a friendly indorsement and a happy medium
of making acquainted two strangers from a social standpoint.
It was written on small-sized letter paper, in a legible
open hand with letters carelessly formed, and from its boldness
covered nearly two pages. As Colonel Venable glanced
at the chirography I noticed a facial brightness—though
something pleasant had half taken possession of his mind—
and upon reading only a few lines turned the page suddenly to
catch the name evidently anticipated—a revelation that brought
him to his feet and caused him to take me most cordially by
the hand nearly forgetting my name. He then adapted the
following words to his heartfelt action: "My dear young man,
I am delighted to see you, and equally glad to have a line from
my true and tried friend, Colonel Marshall. I shall ask you
to be seated here by the window until I finish with these young
men, when I shall be free and will want you to go dine with
me." I thanked him, stating that my Gordonsville lunch had
been quite substantial. But he replied: "I am sure you have
room for something more."

Within a half-hour the last student bid good afternoon,
when the Colonel, after arranging a few papers, again picked
up the letter I had given him, re-read it and remarked: "I
scarcely know which affords me more pleasure, to greet a
new student or receive a letter from Colonel Marshall, for, as
possibly you know, we were associated together in the war on
General Lee's staff, and have had in common many trying
and exciting experiences." He referred to the several letters
which had passed between us during the past few months, and

expressed regret that Delaware had sent so few students to
the University in recent years—indeed only two, Messrs.
Mitchell and Martin. The key of the office door turned and
we were soon off for his home, Monroe Hill, possibly a sixth
of a mile distant, when he remarked: "As we go along some
of the room doors will be open, and, although they are either
occupied or engaged, you can catch a glimpse of their general
condition and arrangement. I want to see you well and suitably
located, so after dinner we will consult Major Peyton as
to the best available rooms." I then handed him the list the
Major had given me an hour before, but after looking it over
he seemed to think we together might do something better.
Our route was a trifle circuitous—down East Lawn colonnade
to the base of the first terrace, across to West Lawn, to the last
pavilion, Dr. McGuffey's, turning right through a narrow
opening in the building, down a few stone steps, then on the
level several hundred feet by the side of a serpentine wall to
West Range, at whose southern terminus descending a number
of stone steps, crossing the public road and following its
west side by a narrow gravel walk, having a board fence on
the right but unprotected on the left from the roadbed that
lay several feet below. Within a hundred yards we turned
abruptly to the right and approached his home over a gradually
rising lawn, during which he remarked: "This house
possesses at least one point of historic interest, in that it was
for some time the office and home of Ex-President James Monroe—the
years he practiced law in Charlottesville and the adjoining
courts." The main front building was brick covered
with yellowish-gray plaster, two stories, with a frontage of
forty feet, a depth of thirty, and a slightly pointed tin roof.
The entrance door was central, approached by several wooden
steps attached to a small uncovered railless platform of similar
material. We entered a good-sized hallway, thence a parlor on
the right (north), plainly but attractively furnished with square
piano, sofa, table, chairs and a number of family portraits,
including General Lee's. The floors were without rugs or
carpets—simply stained dark with dull finish. The colored
butler, middle-aged, compactly built, quiet and respectful,
soon announced dinner, which was served in the dining-room,
just opposite to (south) and a counterpart of the parlor. The

University—Rouss Physical Laboratory

(Erected 1896-98)

FACING 200

table was about four and a half feet square and we sat facing
each other, he south and I north, while the dinner consisted of
a fine broiler, corn cut from the cob and cooked in a dish with
egg—to which I made my first acquaintance—sweet potatoes
and Lima beans. A bottle of red wine stood loosely corked,
which I declined when offered, only to cause him to explain
its lightness and agreeable taste. I, however, was positive,
stating that my training had been entirely without stimulants,
had no desire for them, and at that stage of my career thought
it wise not to indulge their use for fear of possible abuse. He
expressed some surprise, commended my firmness, and drank
none himself. I ate heartily of the substantials, as everything
was cooked and served to a turn, consequently the delicious
looking grapes and pears that followed, apparently the very
best, suffered little by their presence. Thus it happened, that
my first meal in Virginia was with the Chairman of her University,
a former aide-de-camp to General Lee and in the house
once the home of President Monroe.

Shortly after dinner Colonel Venable suggested the proposed
visit to the Proctor's office, which we made and thereafter
inspected rooms on West Lawn, Dawson's Row and
Monroe Hill—the latter location appearing to please him most
owing to its perfect quietness and freedom from various
distractions. I so well remember him pacing the floor of the
corner room forming the right-angle of that group, and claiming
for it the three best requisites—abundant space, light and
air—but when I spoke of the outlook west on to the Blue
Ridge, though beautiful, being so bleak and cheerless in winter,
he concluded I was determined to have something with a
southern or eastern exposure. He positively discountenanced
the Lawn from the constant tread of passers-by and possible
interlopers, although I expressed the likelihood of one becoming
accustomed to that and commented upon the favorable
point—nearness to recitation rooms—not to be despised in bad
weather. We retraced our steps to the Proctor's, talked matters
over, and selected Dawson's Row, House "B," first floor,
front east room, and at once matriculated paying in currency
two hundred and thirty dollars and fifty cents. A colored
man was called to take charge of my trunk, and to see that
the room was made ready for immediate occupancy, consequently

6 o'ck. found me landed bag and baggage in my
new quarters, which I at once began to make a little homelike
by properly arranging the few things brought along for that
purpose. Owing to the many attempts at eating during the
day, my late dinner, and some tempting eatables in my trunk, I
determined to cut out supper in order to get thoroughly unpacked
and settled. It was truly fortunate that hunger proved
no contending element that night, as none of the University
boarding houses (mess halls) were open, nor would be until
the following Tuesday, and for me, a stranger, to have been
compelled to grope in darkness along unknown rugged paths
in search of town or nearby hotel would have meant considerable
annoyance and consumption of time.

The keeping of a diary was a great fad at the Seminary
where I had seen and read frequently those of others, and although
this familiarity served rather to condemn than commend
the custom, especially among those absorbed in more
serious matters, as the usual contents were commonplace and
circumscribed by a monotonous student life, barren of historic
incidents and personages, yet this day had been so resourceful
and memorable that I concluded its last two hours should be
spent in summarizing my chief experiences, and in reducing
the same to writing in a small volume purchased several
months before for the purpose—a practice continued daily
until the following spring when studies so crowded my time
that thereafter its continuance was with great irregularity.
The strain of the first day in Virginia was far beyond the
usual, so that in spite of the narrow springless couch that carried
my outstretched aching form, sweet sleep soon came and
continued into the brightness of the morrow. The next day,
Sunday, was ushered in with dampness and fog, so while
dressing I concluded sorrowfully the outcome to be rain—
that in a strange place I was to be denied my only cheering
friend, sunshine, then, of all times, most needed and desired.
Happily I was a poor weather-prophet in mountainous districts,
as by noon the mist lifted and the sun shone forth with
more than usual power and brilliancy.

It was something after 7 o'ck, when, having made inquiry
of my room attendant concerning available places for table
board and direction thereto, I heard a rap at my door, which

upon opening I found to be a fellow student well and neatly
dressed bearing a pleasant word and smile. After friendly
salutations he inquired my plans for breakfast, and, finding
these undecided, at once suggested our going together, for said
he: "I have already made a happy selection—McKennie's—
in spite of me being right hard to please." Surely this kind
messenger was Godgiven and timely, as he dispelled foreboding
clouds and brought untold comfort to a callow youth
hundreds of miles from familiar scenes, faces and names—
for the first time in touch with the cold and austere world.
He was my next-door neighbor and the first student with
whom I exchanged a word—a fact causing me to hold him
ever since in grateful remembrance. His opportunities, advantages
and experiences had been far in advance of mine,
and he no longer possessed a youthful appearance, although
it was his initial year at the University. He was manly with
heavy moustache, had enjoyed extensive travel at home and
abroad; had been reared in a large city giving him pronounced
social characteristics distinctive of the "Smart Set," and able
to grace with perfect ease and confidence that phase of society
in which his life had been ordered. To approach a stranger
was absolutely to his liking, while to pilot and encourage the
inexperienced were pleasurable ambitions. Unfortunately in
one sense his department was medicine, which, having little
in common with my own, accounted for us gradually drifting
apart. But beyond that his social nature occasioned a neglect
of study—to enjoy functions more congenial, those in which
I was unable to join from a lack of time and inclination.
Sadly enough nature is prone to follow lines of least resistance,
or to accept in the daily walks of life that which affords
the most immediate comfort and pleasure, and to this
law of inheritance the University student finds himself no
exception. Often he falls victim of the tempter—self-indulgence—sometimes
to the utter disregard of class work, which
persisted in, usually brings its measure of sorrow, but corresponding
joy when desisted from, through solicitations of fellow
classmates or self-assertive power aroused by a conceived
duty to parents or others having in him bright hopes and cordial
interests. The beginning of a University course may be
thoroughly congenial and highly satisfactory in every respect,
since the amount of material covered by each lecture does not
seem for a while beyond reason and comprehension. To keep
up for a few months is not found overtaxing, but as the lectures
follow each other in quick succession month after month,
unless most of the available moments have been turned to
proper account, one is caught bewildered in the enormous
maze of the unknown, resulting often in discouragement, even
a disinclination to hold up his end of the line. It was, therefore,
no great surprise when I learned that my friend, in spite
of his creditable record early in the session, had given away
to positive indifference. But the going wrong of a companion,
beyond passing regret, figures little as a rule to those possessing
tenacious ambition and the quality of acquiring close
friendships, as it is a very brief spell at any institution wherein
an honest and capable worker has only one friend.

Indeed, I found that the first few weeks sufficed to develop
among the majority of us very cordial relations, since the
going together to and from classes, the promiscuous sitting
by one and then another, the class recitations with success
and failure (curl or cork), the commingling for a short while
after dinner at the postoffice, or just before each meal in front
of the boarding house, awaiting the door of the dining room
(mess hall) to be opened, the general table talk indulged
and enjoyed, all tended to break quickly the thin frigid film
so manifest at the start. Soon we were comparing notes and
thoughts, discussing lectures, taking afternoon walks into
the undulating country for exercise, or leisurely strolling
towards the town (city) to gaze upon beauty in the form of
lads and lassies out on dress parade—all simple within themselves,
yet sufficient to create mutual esteem, nay more, strong
attachment and love, attributes that sooner or later tended
towards fraternal propinquity, that when established assuring
much in harmony with a genial soul. It was true that the
satisfactory passing of the first days entailed most effort,
flavored as they were with a degree of "mal du pays," owing
to the utter strangeness and the absence of work, but happily
an abundance of the latter was soon forthcoming, giving food
for study and reflection, and establishing an interest to the
disappearance of all signs of unrest. Then again those glorious
autumnal days of bright sunshine, known alone to such
a clime, recurred with that regular periodicity of darkness
succeeding light—each with a cloudless sky, and tempered
with mildness so congenial to all nature, especially her human
beings. Surely did such an atmosphere contribute a stimulating
breath of life, that which created in one an ambition for
the higher ideals, manly virtues, and the evolution of the best

and rarer gifts—all that stood for improving and ennobling
character. It was a little but a busy world, apparently all to
ourselves, so that the thoughtful, reflective and strenuous
student found no cause or reason for homesickness. The
Rotunda bell pealed in accents loud each changing hour; professors
either in slow meditative mood or with quick elastic
step sought posts of duty in advance of schedule time; students
like martial soldiers were ever on the rapid tread; action was
everywhere as impelled by mechanical power—making time
most precious and not to exist for loitering on the wayside.
Towards the oneness of purpose all visible signs indicated
work, work, work, so for the thoughtless and indolent what
an unfortunate spot! A few were there poorly prepared, apparently
without energy, definite object or purpose—adrift
upon a fomenting sea of knowledge—but how fortunate that
such were rare, and that one session usually sufficed to see
their finish, thus preventing serious results from ingrafting
pernicious and desultory habits.

During the early part of the session when meeting students
by introduction several stereotyped questions invariably were
interchanged, as: Your State, studies and class, and if an old
student happened in the party he usually volunteered some real
or fancied knowledge of your tickets selected, as well as characteristics
of the professors having same in charge—the less
your informant really knew the more ominous of evil he portrayed
your future. Thus the "green ticket" (Latin, Greek,
Math.), that for which I was prepared best, evoked, as a rule,
a derisive smile from the more experienced, and in fact caused
me, after a few lectures, to postpone Greek until my second
year in favor of Natural Philosophy. It was, however, some
weeks before I realized the significance of their exclamations
and surprise—when I faced the thoroughness with which
everything was taught and had to be learned. Each language
carried not only an assigned tri-weekly task in translation with
syntactic interpretation—reasons for every construction and
why the author had not used other forms—but a knowledge of
its history, geography, literature, rhythm, meters, accents,
etc., while greater importance yet was centered in the weekly
exercise (composition), each consisting of about two hundred
English words, mostly in idiomatic forms, to be rendered correctly

into the respective tongues. In this one phase an average
throughout the session of more than three to five errors
was considered so ordinary as scarcely to justify an attempt at
graduation. Then again private reading, parallel, was assigned,
consisting of several hundred pages from various
styled authors, which was to be mastered by one's self in the
quietness of the room, since from it a portion of the examinations
were taken, the remainder coming from sources unknown
and presumably hitherto unseen. In mathematics beyond the
text problems quite a half dozen deductive or inferential corollaries,
riders, were given each day to be worked out by one's
self privately, and these mostly constituted the recitations.
Rarely, indeed, was a student called to the blackboard and
asked to demonstrate any problem explained fully in the text,
unless getting at the same time some possibility growing therefrom,
and on examinations he never encountered the direct
theorems as set in the books. Some of these riders at various
steps were susceptible of several solutions, adding not only
to the interest but demanding often many thoughtful efforts.

I had only been at the University three weeks when several
of us decided to take our usual afternoon walk—this time
westward along the Staunton pike—and in nearing the first
crossing with the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad we noticed
a man tacking to a large tree what turned out to be a campaign
poster. As he drove away rapidly we approached slowly and
read the announcement of a Grand Republican Mass Meeting,
to be held in the Court House, Charlottesville, Saturday,
October 26th, 3 o'ck, P. M., at which the Hon. Henry Wilson,
the Vice-Presidential candidate, was to be the attraction.

Thus far I had seen and met several governors, senators and
congressmen, but nothing of a stronger national character, and
at once decided to shape studies to attend the meeting. Upon
reaching the Court House shortly before the hour I found it
so filled as only to be entered by patient effort, but, gradually
maneuvering forward, I secured standing position in easy
range of the judge's rostrum, from which was to be the speaking.
The audience was largely colored (male and female), very
noisy, and enlivened now and then by threatened difficulties
and melees, owing to the wild hurrahing of a thoughtless few
in the background having political sentiments adverse to the

rank and file present. The characteristic African aroma
strongly asserted itself, which together with the personnel
made me feel decidedly ill at ease, but recognizing I was there
for a commendable purpose resolved that the discomforting
elements should have no deterring influence. During the waiting
stage quite a sprinkling of students, filled to overflowing
with youthful buoyancy and antagonistic political enthusiasm,
reinforced the already congested number, apparently delighting
in inflaming the assemblage "by word and act," thus keeping
it in a continued state of fever. A delay tended to make "hope
deferred," by prolonging the commotion, but about 3.30 o'ck,
word was passed that the speakers and accompanying dignitaries
were entering the building, so in the immediate expectancy
quietness reigned, only in a few moments to burst forth
in wildness at their veritable presence. Of course all eyes
seemed centered on Mr. Wilson, who for quite a while was
kept busy smiling and bowing in recognition of the frequent
loud calling of his name. When the initial éclat had subsided,
Mr. Lawton in a very happy mood, and with his characteristic
deep stentorian voice, affirmed great delight at the honor of
presenting Mr. Wilson to his Albemarle constituents, etc. As
Mr. Wilson arose and stood there he appeared six feet high and
to weigh two hundred pounds. He was dressed becomingly in
black—long frock coat, widely open standing collar, polished
silk hat, which he rested on the desk in front; face of the
roundish type, florid and smoothly shaven; hair blackish, of
more than ordinary length and quantity for his supposed years;
nature seemingly kind, paternal and magnetic—above that
represented then by the opposing party papers and speakers
throughout the land. He spoke an hour, saying some things
distasteful to the Democratic portion of his hearers, who had
not the slightest hesitation in showing disapproval by hisses,
groans, and other disrespectful audible punctuations. The
student element especially was antagonistic, going so far as to
plan giving him eggs—that which happily was averted by more
sober reflection—and disorder grew fierce whenever the colored
contingent showed signs of resentment by trying to reach
the rear, the incendiary spot of dissension. I was puzzled as
to the outcome, but, being well up towards the speaker and
tightly wedged in a sweltering mass of humanity, recognized
there to be no escape, let come what might, consequently resigned
myself to the dose. Fortunately for all present, Mr.
Wilson, although halted and interrupted several times in order
to restore quietness, brought his speech to a close without
serious trouble or bloodshed, for which I personally was very
thankful. As he took his seat the hall became partially cleared,
so I began edging myself towards the door encountering several
angered student acquaintances, whom I counseled to be charitable
for the opinions of others and to tolerate even those of
our opponents on occasions like this, only to become the
target of many uncomplimentary expressions. I certainly
was glad to make safe retreat to the University, with the firm
resolve, religiously kept, of never attending another Republican
mass meeting in Charlottesville. At the time I did not consider
Mr. Wilson as saying much deserving criticism, since
he began by stating he had come South to talk over calmly
and kindly that which the Administration proposed to do in
case of re-election; that the war being over it was his hope
and ambition to adjust satisfactorily all unsettled issues; that
we must look towards making our country's future brighter
and greater, forgetting as much as possible the bitterness of
the past. He extolled General Grant's magnanimity in the field,
his determination to see the Government live up to the Appomattox
surrender, verbal and written, his kindness manifested
towards the South in the past four years, which he faithfully
promised to continue if re-elected President, etc. As I now
revert to that occasion, despite the youthful curiosity to see
and hear such a loyal personage, it would have been equally
well had I remained at my post of duty out of harm's way,
leaving to a more favorable time, which afterwards came,
the realization of individual contact.